when u come home.

the sky is bright and cloudless as you finish up a routine sweep in one of linkon’s quieter parks. birds chatter overhead and the late afternoon sun filters through the leaves in soft gold ribbons. your hunter’s watch hums gently as it clears the last residual wanderer readings, the screen finally blinking green.

“area clear.” the watch chirps at you brightly. “no further residual energies detected.”

you let out a satisfied breath and stretch your arms over your head, joints popping pleasantly. the air smells like fresh cut grass mixed with something fried and savory drifting in from a nearby food stall. all you can think about now is clocking out, going home, and taking a nice, hot shower.

“hey, miss.” calls a small voice, small hands tugging at your sleeve, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“miss! miss hunter, please, you gotta help me. it’s an emergency!”

you spin around immediately, heart jumping. a young boy stands there grasping your sleeve, eyes red and glossy, cheeks streaked with drying tears. panic prickles up your spine as you drop to your knees in front of him, hands gentle but thorough as you check him over.

“hey, hey,” you say softly, turning him side to side. “are you okay? did someone hurt you? what happened?”

his bottom lip wobbles before bursting into tears again.

“waaah! it’s worse than that!” he sobs, clutching on to the front of you this time. “i was—hic—playing hide and seek with—hic—luna and she got curious and crawled into—hic—a tree! and i can’t get her down please, miss, please!”

you pause, hand coming to rest over his, which are still hanging on to your shirt. “uhh… luna?”

he nods furiously, pulling away to wipe at his face with the back of his sleeve in an attempt to pull himself together. “she’s my cat.”

“okay,” you say immediately, all hesitation gone. “okay, that’s fixable. c’mon, show me.”

gingerly, you take his hand, small and a little sweaty, and let him lead you across the grass to a tall, old tree near the edge of the park. and sure enough, perched high up on one of the upper branches, is a cute little bengal cat dozing lazily, sunlight hitting her fur coat, no doubt making her more drowsy.

you tilt your head back, squinting. “wow. yeah. you weren’t kidding.”

the boy sniffles harder. “she won’t come when i call her.”

“cats are like that. very strong independent thinkers.” you tell him lightheartedly to soothe his nerves, then bump your arm against his playfully, “hey, kinda like you and me!”

the boy's sniffles pause momentarily as he tries giving you a wobbly smile.

you bite your lip, eyeing the tree and mentally plotting. climbing it wouldn’t be elegant, but you’ve scaled worse in worse conditions. behind you, the boy’s breathing starts hitching again.

“you can’t get her, can you?” he asks, voice trembling, before dissolving into sobs once more.

“no, no,” you say quickly, turning back to him and patting his head. “hey, hey shhh. don’t panic, sweetie.”

you straighten and turn back around planting your feet with a newfound resolve. “don’t worry kid, miss hunter is here to save the day!”

that seems to do the trick. he watches wide eyed as you move to the base of the tree and jump swiftly, before latching onto the trunk. you grab on to the nearest branch and quickly hoist yourself up, climbing with practiced ease as your boots find purchase, pulling yourself higher and higher until you’re level with the top branch.

“hey there luna,” you whisper, clambering fully onto the branch and reaching out towards her carefully. “let’s go home, yeah?”

but just as your fingers are about to brush her fur, something strange happens.

luna slowly lifts off the branch. not jumping, not scrambling, but floating.

you freeze watching as her paws dangle slightly, her body rising into the air and blinking sleepily like this is the most normal thing in the world. then, as if guided by an invisible hand, she drifts downward in a smooth motion, touching down on the grass below with her paws flat in a soft, perfect landing.

then everything is still for a moment as she simply curls up again and resumes her nap. your mouth falls open. so does the boy’s.

“…what?” you breathe out, incredulous and horribly confused.

you scramble back down the tree clumsily, boots hitting the ground as your eyes sweep the park, hunter instincts snapping back into place. your evol hums under your skin scanning your surroundings, instantly alert and ready.

and then suddenly, strong arms wrap around you from behind, dragging you back against something warm and solid.

you react on instinct as energy crackles at your fingertips, twisting, ducking and pivoting in one fluid motion, effectively pinning the perpetrator’s arms behind their back. your chest presses into their back as you glare up, ready to unload every question and maybe a warning shot.

“and just what do you think you’re doing—”

you freeze in your tracks, taking in the familiar flight jacket and that stupidly recognizable scent.

“caleb?”

“easy, pipsqueak.” he laughs, warm and amused. “it’s just your ride.”

you let go instantly, opting to spin him around instead so quickly he almost stumbles over himself. the grin that breaks across your face is so wide it hurts as you tilt your head back to look at him.

his hair is windswept, like he came straight from a fleet mission, and his eyes sparkle with soft amusement in that way they only ever do for you. it slowly dawns on you, taking into account the slow, graceful descent of the cat. of course caleb had been the one who saved luna, most definitely using his evol. what a show off.

“caleb! what are you doing here?”

he shrugs casually, arms lifting to no doubt wrap around you before falling back to his side when he remembers the boy is still there, now barreling towards you both.

“got the next couple days off. figured my favorite hunter might appreciate a pickup.”

before you can respond, the boy, now in front of you with luna safely tucked in his arms, lets out a whoop of excitement, face glowing like you just personally saved the world.

“miss hunter!” he shouts excitedly, his eyes shining with admiration. “miss hunter’s boyfriend! thank you for saving luna!”

caleb turns towards the boy and laughs, crouching to ruffle his hair. “no problemo little man.”

the boy beams one last time, then runs off across the grass, laughter trailing behind him.

you turn back to caleb, trying and failing to hide your excited smile.

“so… lunch?”

he doesn’t even pretend to think about it, flashing that easy, dazzling smile. “obviously.”

twenty minutes later, you’re both tucked into a corner table at a cute little restaurant nearby, its outdoor patio strung with fairy lights that cast a soft, twinkling glow over everything. the afternoon air is still warm, carrying the faint hum of passing traffic and the clink of dishes from inside.

in front of you is pasta and between you two sits a ridiculous mountain of fries, already half gone. you’re trading sips from each other’s milkshakes, vanilla for you, chocolate for him, as he munches on a burger, laughing and joking with each other.

“you totally did that on purpose!” you say, shoving your shoulder into his as he takes an unapologetic bite of his food. “showing me up like that. you loser.”

“I have to admit,” he says around a mouthful of his burger, completely unashamed. judging by the way he was eating, he must have skipped a meal or two. “it was pretty funny watchin’ you struggle with that tree for a good five minutes.”

your jaw drops open, offended. “excuse you, my tree climbing skills have always been better than yours! even when we were kids.”

“mmph,” he makes a noncommittal sound through another bite before continuing. “debatable. guess we’ll have to test that sooner or later.”

“just don’t cry when i beat you.” you say, leaning over him to grab the salt. “how long were you even standing there anyway, huh? we spying on each other now?”

he freezes mid bite when your chest brushes his arm in the process of your leaning.

you catch the way he goes still, eyes flicking down for just a second. you have to purse your lips together to keep from laughing as you sit back in your seat.

you feign nonchalance as you brush at his sleeve and he gives you an inquisitive look. “you got crumbs on your jacket, colonel.”

he suddenly sets his burger down instead of answering, his gaze dragging slowly from your eyes to your mouth, something amused and unreadable settling there.

“something on my face?” you ask him, frowning and unexpectedly feeling self conscious as he continues to stare.

you reach for your phone, fumbling to flip the camera around as he leans forward on his elbows, close enough that you can smell the chocolate from his milkshake. it makes you feel a bit dizzy and light headed. had it always been this warm outside today?

“jus’ some ketchup.” he murmurs. “hold still.”

your breath catches when you look back and he holds your gaze for a moment before you quickly look away at the last second, setting your phone down and busying yourself with your fork like it was the most interesting thing in the world. he finally reaches out, his thumb brushing the corner of your mouth, warm and deliberate. then it stills and grazes at your lower lip.

“there. all gone.”

his hand lingers for what you both know is half a beat longer than necessary before he pulls back, smiling like he knows exactly what he’s doing. because of course he does.

then he immediately goes back to scarfing his food down like a goddamn whale.

by the time you leave the restaurant, the sun has dipped a bit lower as afternoon turns into evening, bathing the streets in it’s warm light.

caleb stretches as you step out onto the sidewalk, hands clasped over his head before leading them drop back down to his sides, looking so content after such a hearty meal.

“alright babe,” he then says goodnaturedly, glancing down at you as you take in the scenery. “home?”

you hum tentatively, eyes already drifting past him as you notice something else.

your gaze falls toward the nearby shopping district. the glass storefronts gleam at you invitingly, signs flickering on one by one as the afternoon turns into evening when an idea sparks.

before he can react, you grab his hand and tug.

“hey!” he laughs, stumbling half a step in your iron strong grip as you drag him off course. “where you draggin’ me to?”

“we’ve got time to kill before traffic gets bad.” you tell him, continuing to tug on his hand like it’s a leash. “c’mon. just a quick look around.”

“quick.” he repeats, doubtfully, but lets you drag him along anyway.

quick quickly turns into three hours.

the first boutique is a charming second hand store that smells like linen and perfume, racks and shelves crammed with different old trinkets, patterned shirts and interesting statement pieces.

caleb hovers near the entrance at first, arms crossed, watching you flit between displays like a child in a candy store with an inquisitive look on his face before hesitantly following you.

“i love coming here.” you’re telling him, once you get over your momentary bout of distraction, as you walk past the antiques section into the clothes. “if you look closely you might find some unique hidden gems. but it could take some time.”

“whatever you say, pips.” though his tone suggests he thinks otherwise.

still, it seems he decides to be a good sport about it. he’s pleasantly looking around at the clothes to oblige you, when you suddenly stop short as the both of you pass through the clearance aisle. he crashes right into your back.

you grab the shirt you’ve just spotted, an explosion of clashing colors in a galaxy-like design, turn around and hold it up against his chest, then step back to assess.

“yup.” you say seriously, nodding your head. “this is a hundred percent your look.”

he looks down at the fabric, then back at you, with a horrified expression. “this thing is your hidden gem? it looks like an assault.”

“no, no,” you insist, smoothing it flat against him softly, almost like you’re very fond of it. “you don’t understand. this design is very fashionable nowadays. ‘specially for young colonels.”

he snorts, shoving the colorful fabric away. “you’re banned from dressin’ me.”

“don’t stress champ.” you tell him, patting his arm and grinning as you take it off the hanger and sling the shirt around your arm. “you’re handsome enough to pull if off.”

“i’d look like a nebula.” but you don’t miss his little smirk at your comment.

you continue browsing through the aisles, picking out items for yourself as caleb loyally follows you around.

then a tap on your shoulder makes you spin around to face him again. he’s holding out a piece of worn cotton gauze in a mustard green shade.

“found your hidden gem.”

you take it from his hand, eyeing it suspiciously and unfurl it. it’s an old jumpsuit that looks like it belongs from at least eight decades ago.

you look up at him, craning your neck to give him a proper glare. “what is wrong with you?”

he bursts into laughter, doubling over. “now this is definitely your look.”

you stomp on his foot harshly, your heavy hunter boots causing his laughter to dissolve into a hiss. he clutches his foot in pain.

“owww, what was that for?”

“for insulting me.” you tell him simply, tossing the ugly thing somewhere behind you and turning around to walk away from him as he starts laughing again.

he quickly catches up to you, curse his long legs, and slings an arm around your shoulders. you shoot him another glare when the clothes slung around your arm shift, almost falling out of your grip.

“you gotta admit, pips,” he says, and at least has the decency to avert his eyes sheepishly for just a second, though nothing can hide that shit-eating smirk. “the way you act sometimes… your soul is probably older than that thing anyway.”

you huff in outrage and shove his arms off you, fee fi fo fum-ing away towards the fitting rooms. the worker hands you a number, and caleb follows all the way down the row to your designated door.

“and just for that, you’re not allowed to come into the changing room with me.”

“what? come onnnn pipsqueak, wait stop! don’t be mad, i’m sure your soul isn’t that old granny—”

“caleb!” you cut him off, incredulous and grab his arm when he tries following you inside the small room, giving you those puppy dog eyes. you shove him out harshly. “down, boy.” 

you slam the door and quickly lock it, laughing to yourself, before calling out from behind it. “now stay out, keep guard, and behave.”

twenty minutes later the two of you walk out the store with bags full of new old clothes, including a small one in his hand, only big enough for one suspiciously colorful shirt.

the tech store is technically his fault.

you barely make it three steps outside the clothing boutique before he lights up, practically bouncing on his heels as he tugs you along, pure, childlike glee bleeding through his usual composure. you’re fairly certain that if he had a tail it’d be wagging right about now.

“okay, look at this,” he says the moment you’re inside, already pointing toward a display of sleek new protocore gadgets. “they finally fixed the latency issue on these models.”

“latency?” you ask, confused, peering over his shoulder as he plucks one off the stand, not unlike the hunter’s watch already strapped to your wrist.

“yeah, like the reaction time.” he says, as if that clears everything up. he powers it on, the device giving a soft whirr, then turns back to you. “here. look at this.”

he catches your bare wrist and secures the watch in place, fingers warm and familiar. “the feedback loop’s tighter now. you actually get real time readings instead of…”

you nod along dutifully, pretending you understand, eyes tracking the way his hands move as he adjusts the device on your wrist, animated and precise. his voice shifts when he’s like this, faster and brighter and childlike, like he can’t help but spill everything he knows, and something about it makes your heart swell.

you catch the twinkle in his eyes under the bright store lights. then your focus drifts, unhelpfully, to the sweep of his lashes, before finally settling on his mouth as it keeps moving.

“...basically it means the responses don’t delay anymore mid-fight,” he finishes, lifting your wrist closer so you can see the phenomena for yourself. “pretty cool, right?”

he looks at you then, wearing that big, goofy smile, and it feels like the air gets knocked clean out your lungs.

you tear your gaze away from his lips and back down to the watch.

“umm… uh huh.” you say. super eloquently.

he continues talking about other specs and neat stuff like that, gently taking the watch off you before putting it back on the display.

when he’s done, he silently takes your hand again and walks you along with him all the way to the other end of the row, where all the latest phone and tablet models are situated.

“y’know,” you tell him, reaching out for one of the sleeker model phones. “it’s a good thing you dragged me here. i’ve been meaning to upgrade my phone ever since it fell two stories down during that mission last month in chansia city.”

he raises an eyebrow at you, absentmindedly grabbing one of the nearby tablets. “you did what?”

“yeah.” you sigh solemnly, unlocking the phone to inspect it further as he fiddles around with the tablet. “now my keyboard’s all messed up. it triple types all my s’s for me.”

“so that’s why you’ve been typin’ like that whenever you text me.” he places the tablet down in front of you both, now open to the camera app and sets a timer before clicking on the round ‘take photo’ button. “thought you’d just been into snakes lately. hissssss.”

you shove him playfully before grabbing his face between your hand, squishing his cheeks together, and sticking up bunny ears behind his head, dragging the both of you into frame before the timer went off.

“there we go.” he says once the picture had been saved to the device. “now our memory will live on forever in this tablet. or at least until they reset it again tomorrow morning.”

“lemme see.” you take the tablet from his hands to inspect the picture taken, before shutting the tablet off and turning to give it back to him, noticing that he was now crouched down on the floor beneath the display tables.

“...caleb?” you ask. but you quickly realize his attention isn’t on you. because there, tucked on a lower shelf, is a boxed model airplane.

“no fuckin’ way.” he murmurs, sticking his head even lower to pick it up delicately. “this is the T39 model variant. what’s this ‘lil bad boy doin’ in a small tech store like this?”

and suddenly he’s rambling, explaining the mechanics, the real plane’s wingspan, the engine specs, how he used to build other models as a kid, sprawled on the floor with glue on his fingers. you just watch, telling him you remember and leaning against the display, smiling without realizing it.

he catches you staring.

“what?” he asks, meeting your eyes, shy and sheepish.

“nothing.” you say, but then go on to admit. “you’re just cute when you nerd out.”

he groans and finally stands up, running a hand through his hair as his ears turn red. “don’t say that, pips.”

you reach up to pinch his cheeks before grabbing the box from him. “c’mon, let’s go checkout.”

by the time you hit the makeup store, caleb looks like a walking display, shopping bags dangling from both arms like he’s one sharp turn away from tipping over. he’d long since taken off his jacket, and you were now wearing it with the sleeves pushed up your arms.

somewhere between the bookstore (where you found one of caleb’s favorite old action books) and here, the two of you had wandered aimlessly through sporting goods, tried on goofy sunglasses in a tiny party store off the corner, and argued over whether a glittery top hat looked good on him or not. he’d lost that argument of course.

every time you glance back at him, he’s already watching you with that fond, amused look, like none of this was a burden. like he’d follow you into oncoming traffic on the highway with a tug of his sleeve and a smile.

so, naturally, you end up dragging him to the makeup store, assuring him this will be the last stop of the day.

“i swear on it.” you tell him as you wait in line to be let inside the store. “pinky promise!”

“you said the same thing before draggin’ me into that ridiculous hat store.”

the moment you step inside, you’re hit with the scent of powder, cream, and fragrance. the lights are bright, but gentle, reflecting off different colored displays. a buff, flamboyant man stationed near the line at the entrance clocks you immediately, beaming as he swoops in and hands you a basket.

“welcome in, sweetheart.” he says brightly. “take your time.”

you give him a thank you and wander off, caleb trailing behind you like your very own guard dog.

the two of you walk between aisles casually for a good ten minutes, testing out different perfume samples.

“okay,” you say, holding out another scent strip and spraying it with vanilla perfume you had just found, before waving it to let it settle and shoving it under caleb’s nose. “what do you think of this one?”

“smells exactly like the first two.” he tells you dutifully but the confusion is there in his eyes.

“good,” you say as you grab a new box of the perfume with a sense of victory and put it in your basket. “that’s the point.”

“i don’t get it.” he says as he hikes the bags up his arms where they’ve slipped, “the point is you want all of the same smellin’ perfume?”

you roll your eyes as you reach for the teetering skincare display, eyeing some face masks. “no, the point is i want the cheapest possible option between them. if you can’t tell the difference then that means i shouldn’t be wasting my money on the more expensive one.”

“ohh, very smart. except it wouldn’t be wasting anyone’s money, since i’m payin’. don’t touch that it’s about to fall over.” 

you stop just as you’re about to grab an avocado face mask and turn around to pout at him. “you’ve been paying for me all day. just let me treat myself here.”

“wrong.” he tells you, smiling as your pout grows bigger. “you paid at the bookstore.”

“because it’s a gift for you! why would you pay for your own gift? and it was just a paperback. it barely left a dent in my wallet, that’s for sure.”

it was at this moment a kid had run past the skincare display and sure enough, the flimsy thing came crashing down. you turn in surprise and watch as the kids mother comes rushing after him, probably to reprimand, before turning back to caleb who’s already sporting a smirk in a silent ‘i told you so’.

“uh huh, whatever you say pipsqueak. just keep fillin’ up that basket.”

you shove him, causing the bags to flail before walking into the next section.

you’re crouched down in one of the aisles a couple minutes later, eyeing a row of lip liners, debating between two nearly identical shades, when you feel a presence behind you.

“do you need any assistance today?” the same man from the entrance asks, voice polite but eyes sharp, lingering a second too long.

you straighten up, lip liner forgotten, and give him a polite smile. “no, thank you. i’m good.”

“alright,” he says, same tone, same smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “well, if you need anything, i’ll be right here.”

and with that, he drifts back toward the front of the store.

caleb, who had been watching the whole interaction, leans down toward you once the man is out of earshot. “that was weird, right?”

“don’t worry about it, ’leb.” you say, already crouching back down. “they’re always like this. you need to be focusing on helping me choose.”

“helping how?” he asks warily, lowering himself as much as he can with all the bags, knees protesting. “i already told you. you look good in everything.”

you roll your eyes again as you hold up two lip liners. “that is not helpful.”

“just saying’ pipsqueak.” he says before squinting at them. “the left one looks… red and angrier. hey, kinda like you.”

you shoot him a glare, ignoring the second comment. “that is not a thing.”

“it absolutely is.”

soon enough, you’ve migrated to the testers, swatching blush across the back of your hand, then gloss along your forearm. you hold your arm up under the lights, tilting it back and forth.

“okay, this one or this one?” you ask, pointing between two blushes on the back of your hand.

he leans in, studying your arm like it’s a tactical map. “the purpleish one makes you look like you punched someone.”

“sold.” you say immediately, dropping it into the basket.

you move on to lip glosses next, unscrewing one and sniffing it. “this one smells like apples.”

he gets a thoughtful look on his face as you hold it out for him to smell as well.

“your shampoo already makes you smell like apples.” he tells you decidedly.

you grin, toss the lip gloss into the basket, and pick up another at random, holding that one out for him as well. “what about this one?”

he hums, thoughtful. “smells like cherry cola.”

at his description, you quickly bring the lip gloss back to your eye level to read its packaging. “hey, i’ve actually been looking for this one. thanks ‘leb.”

you toss that one into the basket too, as he looks with a proud expression, chest puffed out.

in the next aisle, you hold up an eyelash curler. “should i replace mine? i lost the old one.”

he stares at it for a moment. “is that a torture device?”

“caleb. be serious.”

“i’m just sayin’.” he adds, eyeing it suspiciously. “if i saw that in an interrogation room, i’d crack immediately.”

“yeah, you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?”

eventually, your hands are full. basket abandoned somewhere behind you, arms loaded with products.

you pick up a sparkly berry pink gloss, admire it for a second, before turning your hand over to swatch it when you realize there’s no space left on your hands from the blush. you mischievously turn to caleb as an idea comes to mind.

“caleb,” you say. “hand.”

he pauses and looks down at his completely occupied arms, hands full of bags. then he looks back at you, hesitantly.

“i dunno if you’ve noticed pips… but my hands are kinda preoccupied right now.”

you just keep your hand jutted out, unwavering.

he holds the stare for exactly two seconds before it breaks, his mouth twitching into a small smile.

with an exaggerated sigh, he shifts all the bags to one arm, muscles flexing under his shirt as he offers you the other hand, palm up. “fine. but this is definitely goin’ on your tab.”

you turn his palm over and grab another wine red lip gloss and swatch the two shades, holding his hand this way and that, admiring the way it sparkled under the store's fluorescent light.

“those are two fundamentally different colors.” he tells you as you continue to twist his hand this way and that. “if you can’t decide just get ‘em both. now release me.”

“don’t tell me what to do.” you mutter, but you have to hide your playful smile as yet another light bulb goes off.

you start off careful, feigning thoughtfulness, as if you’re actually testing the colors properly, caleb grumbling to himself all the while. and pretty soon enough using a plethora of glosses, lipsticks, blushes, different color swatches bloom across his forearm, the back of his hand, his wrist.

you don’t even pretend to be serious after that.

you grab a wild purple eyeshadow and draw a tiny heart on his knuckle. a glittery gold one gets turned into little stars trailing along his wrist. red and pink and green is soon added, in the form of mini flowers. you giggle every time the shimmer catches the light and he tilts his arm like he’s admiring a masterpiece.

“you’re enjoyin’ this way too much.” he mutters, but doesn’t pull away even a fraction.

“hold still.” you scold, adding another star. “you’re ruining my vision.”

“i’m gonna have glitter on me for weeks, y’know.”

“a tragedy.” you say sarcastically, before drawing another heart. “you’ll survive, my big dorky canvas.”

you two are laughing and giggling like idiots when all of a sudden, the buff man reappears at your side, arms crossed now, eyes flicking between you and caleb’s increasingly decorated arm.

“everything alright over here?” he asks, his tone tight and almost accusatory, jaw ticking as he spares another glance towards caleb’s arm.

caleb gives you a secret smirk before it disappears just as quickly, slowly looking up.

“didn’t you hear her the first time?” he asks the man evenly, his cold colonel stare snapping into place like a switch flipped. “we’re good.”

the man blinks and swallows, before beginning to retreat. “right. of course, sir. ma’am.”

he gives a nod and the moment he’s gone, the two of you dissolve into giggles again, caleb ducking his head as you cling to his arm.

you finally head to the checkout, arguing with him at the register and when he doesn’t comply in letting you pay, you exercise an astonishing amount of restraint, removing items from the basket as he begs you not to. fifteen minutes later the two of you walk out the store as you pleasantly hold a small bag of favorites.

the walk home is pleasant enough, the two of you leisurely strolling and enjoying the cool evening air. the lamps and mostly empty streets adding a layer of intimacy between you two as you continue to laugh and joke around. you’d tried to take some of the bags from caleb to lessen his burden but he refused and instead offered to carry you on his back, when you then refused.

“don’t be crazy.” you had huffed at him.

back at your apartment, he drops the mountain of bags by the door with a dramatic groan, rolling his shoulders and grabs you both a glass of water.

you kick off your shoes, taking the water from him and setting it aside, before shoving him towards the couch. “sit.”

he raises an eyebrow but obeys, dropping onto the cushions. “payment time already?”

“mmhmm.”

“do i get a massage for behaving so well today?”

you ignore him, going back to grab the makeup bag until you find your favorite new gloss, the cherry cola caleb had found. you apply it carefully in the mirror by your door.

then you stride over and straddle his lap without hesitation. his hands lift instinctively to your hips.

“hold still.” you tell him, cupping his face. he looks up at you underneath his lashes and you’re hit with a wave of cuteness aggression at his expression.

the first kiss lands on his forehead. then you move on to his cheeks. then comes his nose, then the corner of his mouth. slowly, little marks bloom one by one as you work your way down, leaving a constellation of prints. his grip on you gradually becomes firmer.

“markin’ me up like a map.” he laughs softly, hand brushing yours gently.

“that’s ‘cause you’re my territory.” you reply, pressing another kiss to his eyebrow, grinning against his skin.

he’s laughing softly at first, head tipping back to give you better access.

then the laughter fades into quiet hums that make you feel lightheaded, coming from deep in the back of his throat as your kisses start to linger longer. along his jaw, his neck, his collarbone. his hands tighten at your waist, thumbs brushing slow circles at your hip bones, and it sends shivers up your spine.

when you finally pull back to admire your work, his face and neck are dotted with perfect red prints. his hair is mussed, eyes dark.

“you happy now?” he asks, voice low, his expression now heavy lidded.

you lean in and kiss him properly this time, slow and deep, gloss smudging between your mouths. you linger just a fraction longer before breaking it, tasting the faint hint of cherry cola now on his lips, and feeling the way his eyelashes brush against your cheek.

“very.” you whisper against his lips, once you had pulled away. he dives into your neck, peppering kisses all over as you continue. “best shopping buddy ever.”

his kisses stop and he suddenly flips you gently onto the couch beneath him, grinning as he bends to chase your mouth again.

you catch a glint of mischief in his eyes, that familiar spark that always makes you question who’s really in charge. you laugh, soft and helpless, and he takes it as permission.

“just a shoppin’ buddy huh?” he murmurs, hot and heavy against your mouth. “i’m gonna have to cash in the rest of this payment right now, pips.”

caleb's stares have always been intense. it's part of what makes him him. you two have always had this mix of playful childhood teasing and something deeper, plus the possessive protectiveness from his return means he can't help but drink you in whenever you're together, especially now that you guys are official. but you're so used to him being around, his presence a guaranteed constant in your life, you just... don't notice.

the bathroom is still thick with steam when you step out of the shower, the hot water having chased away the last remnants of sleep. you wrap the towel around yourself without much thought. it was the only clean one left, small and soft, but barely long enough to cover you properly. you don’t pay it any attention, though, as you bend over the sink, toothbrush in hand, humming some half remembered tune as you brush your teeth.

you were focused on the mirror, trying to see past the fog, and in the middle of drawing a cute little puppy in the condensation that suspiciously looked a lot like your boyfriend when a soft knock sounds at the already half-open door.

“morning.” caleb mumbles, voice thick with sleep as he pushes it fully open. he’s mid-yawn with one arm stretched overhead, running a hand through his dark hair which is sticking up wildly in every direction. he’s wearing nothing but sweatpants that ride low on his hips and a loose navy blue t-shirt.

the yawn dies in his throat the instant his eyes land on you.

you’re bent forward, leaning over the counter, the towel creeping up just enough to expose the soft undersides of your ass and a teasing glimpse of damp skin between your thighs. water beads cling to your skin, tracing the valley of your breasts as they disappear down the towel and trailing slow paths down your thighs all the way to your calves after reappearing.

caleb freezes in the doorway, hand still tangled in his hair, eyes widening a bit as they take in the sight in front of him.

you catch his reflection mid-draw in the clear patch of mirror and glance back, toothbrush pausing, white foam at the corner of your mouth, eyelashes still wet and face flush a gorgeous pink from no doubt the hot shower you’ve taken this early in the morning. only you could look ridiculously cute while doing something as mundane as brushing your teeth, caleb thinks to himself.

“hey sleepyhead.” you manage around the toothpaste, voice muffled. “sorry. gimme a minute, ’m almost finished.”

“yeah…” he tries to answer casually but the word comes out scraped, his throat still rough from sleep and maybe something more now. he clears his throat as his eyes drop back down to your ass. “ummm… take your time, pips.”

you turn back to the sink, oblivious, spitting and rinsing as you reach for your cleanser. caleb doesn’t move, just leans against the doorframe instead, one hand drifting under the hem of his shirt to peel the fabric away from his chest. he suddenly feels way too warm, skin prickling with sweat that has nothing to do with the steam. his shirt lifts and the waistband of his sweatpants reveal the sharp cut of his v-line and the faint trail of hair disappearing beneath.

his gaze stays fixed on you, however, a hint of helplessness in his eyes under the still lingering fragments of sleep.

every little motion you make subsequently seems specifically designed to torture him. the way you rise onto your toes to reach the top shelf, towel shifting higher. the casual bend to pick up a dropped cotton pad, giving him an even clearer view of soft curves and moist skin. the cute humming in your throat as you pat toner onto your cheeks. you were so comfortable here, in his space, around him. muscle memory from years of knowing each other.

it’s way too early in the morning for him to be feeling like this. and, a nagging thought reminds him at the back of his head, too early in the relationship as well.

you had only just arrived to skyhaven last night, a trip the two of you had been planning for the past two weeks, as soon as you had found out that you finally had some time off from work.

it’s only been a couple months since you two had started dating so despite sharing a living space he promised himself he’d go slow and keep his hands to himself. he wanted to let you set the pace, not scare you off with the intensity that’s been building inside him for far longer than you probably realized.

and although you guys had familiarized yourself with each other’s bodies in the time you’ve been together, you’ve also been pushing yourself way too hard at work for him to advance on you constantly and exhaust you even further.

that’s why last night was just a round of takeout and a cute movie, cuddling on the couch, talking about absolutely everything and making jokes, and falling asleep before the credits rolled.

but standing there, watching you move so effortlessly in next to nothing, every one of caleb’s good intentions felt like it was fraying at the edges.

after another minute or two, you cap your moisturizer, flash him a bright, earnest smile over your shoulder, and step past him towards the door.

“bathroom’s all yours now.” you say lightly, breezing by with the faint scent of the bodywash he bought (your favorite) clinging to your skin.

caleb stays rooted in place, staring at the empty space you left behind, pulse thudding hard in his ears. he drags a hand down his face and exhales unevenly.

catching his flushed reflection in the clearing mirror, he silently grabs his own toothbrush and starts scrubbing hard enough to scrape off enamel.

an hour later you’re both sprawled across the wide couch in caleb’s living room, morning light pouring in through the massive windows. his laptop balances on his thighs, open to a half-finished fleet log he’s supposed to be reviewing. your own hunter reports are scattered across the low coffee table in front of you. everything from printouts, sticky notes, and different colored pens were littered across, a tablet propped against a mug. there’s also a kettle that has been steeping a pot of tea for the last ten minutes.

you’re dressed for pure comfort in soft sweatpants that sit low on your hips and a thin white tank top that clings just enough to hint at the simple bra underneath. the neckline dips low, and every time you shift, the fabric pulls a little tighter, offering the occasional peek of cleavage.

you just look oh so cute, caleb thinks, as you bite your lower lip in concentration, brow furrowed, legs tucked up and crossed underneath you on the couch.

and caleb promises he’s not a pervert. but it’s just so hard to control oneself when your girlfriend is this effortlessly gorgeous and doesn’t even know it.

every few minutes you let out a small, frustrated puff of air, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear as you scribble notes in the margins of a page, and it takes everything in caleb not to press a kiss to the skin on the neck you’ve just exposed.

he really is trying to focus though, his fingers hovering over the keyboard, typing a word here and there, but his eyes keep betraying him as he finds them constantly drifting back and forth from the screen to you. to the way your tank top rides up when you lean forward and the soft curve of your waist where the sweatpants have slipped down just a fraction. to the absent little bounce of your leg when you unfold them and the sliver of skin exposed when you stretch your arms overhead. he catches himself staring at your lips every single time you chew down on them, biting them raw, and forces his gaze back to his report, only for it to wander again thirty seconds later.

you’re completely engrossed in your work and utterly oblivious to what you do to him.

eventually you lean toward the coffee table, reaching for the teapot without looking up from your notes. the movement pulls your neckline lower, thin straps sliding slightly on one shoulder as the smallest amount of extra skin is exposed, an unintentional display. but it’s enough to make caleb’s throat go dry.

“want some tea?” you ask casually, still focused on the page in your lap.

caleb swallows, willing away the dryness and when he speaks he notices his voice comes out a touch lower than usual.

“i got it.”

you glance up then, flashing him that bright, easy smile that reaches all the way to your eyes and always undoes him.

he sets his laptop aside and leans forward to pour out two cups of tea as you settle back against the cushions without a second thought, foot tucking and legs curling up again and diving right back into your work.

caleb hands you your mug, warm fingers brushing yours for the briefest second. you murmur a soft “thanks ‘leb” and wrap both hands around it, blowing gently across the surface before taking a sip, eyes still engrossed in your work.

he sits back and returns to his screen, but really, he’s just watching the steam curl up past your lips, the way your throat moves when you swallow, the little hum of appreciation you make because the tea is exactly how you like it. he can’t help but feel a little smug about that last part.

“what a waste.” he grumbles to himself half an hour later, once you had finally gotten up and wandered into another room, because he noticed his own untouched cup of tea left on the table, now too cold to drink or enjoy properly.

that afternoon, you roll out a yoga mat in the open space in front of the couch. caleb’s still parked in the same spot, laptop still open, finally making some progress on his work while you queue up a quick follow-along video on your tablet.

you’re in your favorite flared yoga pants and a thin, cropped define jacket zipped just low enough to show your collarbones with your hair tied up in what was a probably hastily thrown up ponytail. you hit play and sink into the first warm-up stretch, completely in your own world.

caleb glances up the second the soothing instructor's voice starts up. it was just supposed to be a quick look, out of genuine curiosity, but his eyes stay glued to your figure as you flow through the poses.

child’s pose came first, forehead to the mat, arms stretched forward, hips sinking back. then cat-cow, back arching and dipping slow and smooth. when you shift into downward dog with your legs straight, back beautifully arched, and ass tilted up toward the ceiling, he has to grip the edge of his laptop to keep from squeaking out loud. your clothes stretch tight across your body, outlining every curve, slope, and dip perfectly, ponytail swinging gently with each breath.

you start speaking, completely oblivious, like he’s not internally short-circuiting.

“so i was thinking,” you say mid pose, voice steady even as you hold a deep forward fold, hands flat on the mat, “we should try that new ramen place in linkon next time you come over. the one with the spicy miso?”

“mhm…” caleb nods, swallowing hard. “we’ll go wherever you want, pipsqueak.”

his voice miraculously comes out even and normal. years of pilot training keeping him composed apparently.

you straighten up, step one foot forward into a low lunge, hips sinking low, arms reaching overhead. the jacket rides up, a sliver more skin flashing at your waist.

“they’re open until pretty late too, so even if my shifts run long—”

“late hours are perfect baby.” he answers quickly, not really meaning to cut you off but his brain is moving 100mph, eyes tracking the stretch of your body before snapping back to his screen when you turn around to grab your water bottle. 

he’s not sure why he’s acting like he doesn’t want to be caught, but you’re still blissfully unaware, turning back to your tablet as the instructor gives the next pose.

you drop back into plank, then lower into cobra with your chest lifting and back arching again, throat exposed.

caleb’s fingers hover uselessly over the keyboard. he’s read the same line on his report four times now.

“also,” you continue, rolling up to a seated position, legs in butterfly and wide open, then stretching your arms out forward until your chest nearly touches the mat. “i was thinking we invite tara and simone so i can finally introduce you to them. they’ve been asking about you, y’know. been nagging me for ages.”

“i’m not complainin’.” he replies, voice surprisingly light and playful. “please show me off to your friends.”

you look back at him over your shoulder, meeting his gaze that’s already set on you, cheeks pink from the workout, your eyes bright as you stick your tongue out at him.

“as if!”

then you fold forward again with your ass lifted just slightly, back rounded, completely relaxed and the only thought that shoots through caleb’s mind is how badly he wants to take you on that mat right now, fleet report be damned.

instead he just lets out a soft laugh in response that sounds way more relaxed than how tense he actually feels.

by the time you roll up your mat twenty minutes later, barely a single line of the report is completed on his end. you stretch your arms overhead with a satisfied little sigh, and he accepts his fate. absolutely no work is being done like this.

you walk over, drop onto the couch beside him and nudge his shoulder with yours.

“hey, workaholic. time for a break.”

he closes the laptop, finally giving up the pretense, and bumps you back gently. “whatcha got in mind?”

you simply reach out to brush the fringe of hair in front of his eyes and press a sweet kiss to his lips. his arms immediately snake around you, pulling you flush to him.

it doesn’t go any deeper though when you pull away after a moment. caleb almost whines like a dog at the loss of contact, then immediately mentally slaps himself for it.

you pat his shoulder and get up. “back to work, colonel.”

“hey!” he makes to get up after you but you’re already gone.

he slumps back down in defeat, throwing a glare at his laptop.

later that evening, you’re in the small laundry nook across from the kitchen, the dryer humming its final spin as you pull open the door and start unloading warm clothes into the basket at your feet.

you’ve long since taken another shower after your yoga session, now donning tiny sleep shorts and one of caleb's faded old aerospace academy shirts. the fabric of his shirt rides up with every bend of your hips, grabbing at clothes from the machine, exposing the gentle curve of your thighs and the lower swell of your ass.

you’re completely focused on the task with your tongue stuck between your lips as you pair socks and toss them into the basket, fully zoned in.

caleb, who has finally finally finished his work, makes his way from the living room towards the kitchen, passing you on his way to grab water.

he’s mid-step when he catches the sight of you bent forward, back arched just a bit for balance, and shorts riding high, as you dig for a stray sock at the back of the dryer.

he stops dead. just… freezes in place, water completely forgotten, though his throat does go dry again.

you give him no acknowledgement as you take out the sock, so he assumes you have no idea he’s standing there behind you. not to mention no clue in the world how the overhead light hits the skin of your thighs and the curve of your ass.

caleb swallows hard, wetting his throat, then moves before his brain fully catches up. he steps up behind you quietly, hands settling on your waist. firm, warm, and a little possessive despite his best intentions.

you don’t even flinch at his touch, just continue to reach out, desperately looking for the sock’s pair. caleb doesn’t know whether to laugh or to be offended.

“move over, pips.” he murmurs, trying to get your attention. “i got you.”

you straighten up immediately, turning in the circle of his hands to face him. your neutral face melts into that easy, grateful smile when you realize it’s just him being his helpful self.

“thanks, babe!” you say brightly, popping onto your toes to press a quick, sweet kiss to his cheek and handing him the lone sock in your hand. “you’re the best.”

then you’re slipping past him, basket abandoned at his feet now, humming some tune as you wander back toward the living room like nothing happened.

caleb stands there for a second, hands still hovering where your waist had been, cheek tingling from your innocent kiss. he glances down at the dinosaur patterned sock in his hand, then at the empty doorway you disappeared through, and lets out a quiet sigh.

no pair turns up anywhere in the laundry for that goddamn sock.

later, after neatly folding the rest of it and flopping on to his back on his bed, he dangles the sock above his face. the little dinosaurs smile back at him all goofy and toothily.

“you lonely too buddy?” he asks it, before turning over and squishing his cheek against the pillow.

the dinosaurs don’t answer, continuing to grin at him mockingly.

he groans, tosses the sock somewhere behind him, and pulls the pillow over his head.

a couple of hours later, deep into the night, caleb jolts awake. the room is quiet save for the soft hum of probably the furnace running and the gentle rhythm of your breathing beside him.

moonlight spills through the wide window, painting everything in it’s wake. he looks over and there you are, curled on your side, almost on your stomach like a sleepy little kitten.

the blanket has twisted around your waist and your front, practically useless at it’s only job, which is to cover. your tiny sleep shorts are riding high, one cheek fully exposed, the curve of your ass catching the light perfectly. one leg is tucked up toward your chest, the other fallen slightly open, making everything jut out just a little more. your shirt is bunched up to your midriff, showing the soft dip of your spine and a sliver of stomach.

you’re drooling a tiny bit onto the pillow, one arm shoved underneath it, hair a messy halo. you’ve never looked more beautiful.

caleb stares for a long second, chest tightening. he lets out a quiet, helpless sigh and slides closer, fully rolling over to spoon you from behind. with his chest to your back, arm draping over your waist, and hand splaying possessively across your bare stomach.

“you’ve got no idea what you do to me, do you?” he mutters against the shell of your ear, voice hoarse with sleep.

you stir at the warmth and his words, blinking slowly awake. you twist your neck just enough to peer at him over your shoulder, eyes still heavy-lidded.

“mm… caleb?” you ask, letting out a sleepy yawn, voice raspy and slurred. “what time’ssit?”

“late.” he whispers back, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder. “go back to sleep.”

“mmmf—” you try to push up on an elbow, but his arm tightens gently, keeping you pinned. you slump back down with a dramatic little huff. “don’t wanna.”

he chuckles, lips brushing your skin again. “you were droolin’ on my pillow two seconds ago.”

“was not.” you mumble, and your pout can be heard in your voice. you wiggle back against him, getting comfier. “you’ve been weird all day, y’know.”

he stills for half a beat. “…weird how?”

“like… just jumping a lot. to help me… like a cute little puppy!” you yawn again and let out a laugh. “seriously though. you’ve been so jittery i thought you were coming down with something.”

caleb groans into your hair, half-laugh, half-mortification.

“’m not sick. i’m just… tryin’ real hard to be real good for you.”

you twist a little more so you can actually see his face. moonlight catches the flush on his cheeks.

“good at what? you’re already good for me.”

he meets your eyes, serious for once.

“at not draggin’ you to the nearest surface every five minutes.” he says, then his voice drops. “you’ve been killing me all day, pipsqueak.”

you blink, processing his word, then the corner of your mouth curves into a slow, mischievous smile. you poke his arm with one finger. “and who exactly is making you be good, colonel loser?”

he growls playfully, catching your hand and pinning it against your stomach. “you are. with your oblivious ‘lil self.”

you crane your neck further until your lips brush his.

“’m not that oblivious. plus i never asked you to be so good.”

the kiss starts lazy and sleepy, but it deepens fast. you open your mouth for him, tongue sliding against his, and he makes a low sound in his throat.

his hand slips under the hem of your shirt (his shirt), palm spreading over the soft skin of your stomach before sliding higher to cup one breast, thumb brushing over your nipple until it hardens under his touch. you arch into his hand, a moan falling from your lips as you break apart from the kiss.

he trails more kisses down your neck, nipping lightly at your collarbone.

“been wantin’ to do this since you walked outta that shower.” he murmurs against your skin. “since you walked into my place, actually.”

“then what are you waiting for?” you whisper back, pushing your hips back against him.

he doesn’t need any more invitation.

his fingers hook into the waistband of your shorts and tug them down slowly, easing them off your legs. you kick them away impatiently, making him laugh, and you suddenly find yourself thinking how sexy he sounds all sleepy and playful.

he kisses down your spine, over the curve of your ass, then as you fully turn on to your back for him, he settles between your thighs.

the first slow lick to your pussy has you reeling, gasping his name, fingers threading into his hair.

“oh, caleb—”

he hums against you, tongue circling and stroking and sucking your clit just the way he knows you like, fingers sliding inside to pump at your tight hole. you tug hard at his hair, hips rocking, breath coming in soft little whimpers.

“r-right there, nnngh—don't stop—please—”

and stop he doesn’t. not until you’re trembling, thighs clamping around his head, coming with a loud cry that echoes in his bedroom.

he crawls back up your body, kissing your sternum, pushing the shirt higher until it’s bunched under your arms.

you’re still catching your breath when he settles between your legs again. he pulls his sweatpants down just enough to free his aching dick and slaps it one, two, three times against your clit, smearing the precum already dribbling out of the tip and sending jolts up your spine.

he wastes no more time then, sliding into you slow and deep, mouth falling open as he sheathes himself inside you completely. you both groan when he’s fully bottomed out.

“god you always—hahh—take me so perfectly.” he breathes, starting a steady rhythm, thumb finding your swollen clit. he fucks into you with fast, even strokes while flicking at it, making you mewl.

you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, nails digging into his back as he continues to thrust.

“harder.” you whimper after a minute, voice needy. “please caleb, please—uhnn— i need it—”

he hooks your legs over his shoulders without hesitation, folding you nearly in half, placing his palms on either side of your head, and gives you exactly what you asked for, plunging as deep as he can go, his hips slamming into you with vigor.

the headboard taps loudly against the wall, your moans mixing with his low grunts and groans.

“come for me again baby.” he pants against your lips, before kissing you open mouthed, hot and desperate.

and that’s all it takes for you to squeeze and release around him, his name on your tongue, pulling him over the edge right after. his dick jerks and spurts inside of you, as he lets out a groan, filling you up and leaving you completely satiated.

afterwards, he collapses half on top of you, completely spent and face burying in your neck, both of you breathless and sweaty. you stroke his hair lazily, grinning into the darkness.

“hey,” you say, after a moment, voice still husky. “did you seriously think i did all that yoga in front of you then left you hanging and expected you to do nothing about it?”

he lifts his head, mock-offended, before going back down to bite at your collarbone.

“you ‘lil menace.”

you arrived with only a year of experience under your belt and were placed directly into the same laboratory he worked in. word traveled fast, as it always did in law enforcement. and boy, did people talk. about your work ethic, your clearance rate, your attention to detail. always followed by the same line, delivered with impressed disbelief.

especially at your young age, they’d say. though caleb never quite understood that part, seeing as you were only a year younger than him. if anything, he thought, someone should be praising him for his own quick rise into the lab directly under the chief, a thirty something, fiery, sharp tongued woman named jenna who ran the place like they were going to war with rome. but of course, he didn’t expect that from anybody. caleb was never one to boast. he liked his job and that was enough.

still, caleb expected someone nerdy and bookish. a quiet overachiever. the type who graduated top of their year on the dean’s list and kept their head down, happy to double check results and make his job easier. the kind of person you wanted to be paired with for a group project. not that he didn’t love what he did, he just didn’t love complications.

and what a complication you turned out to be.

his first real interaction with you happened on a monday morning.

caleb had been elbow deep in a backlog report, headphones in, vibing to a playlist gideon had made him titled ‘Most nostalgic bangers OAT’, when someone cleared their throat directly beside him. and it wasn’t polite, no, it was done loudly. and definitely on purpose.

interrupting someone just as they entered flow state had to be criminal, in caleb’s professional, completely unbiased opinion.

he glanced up anyway, already annoyed.

you stood there with an iced coffee in hand, condensation dripping down the plastic cup, your lab coat unbuttoned. there was a faint scent to you, something sweet and warm and faintly of vanilla that absolutely did not belong in a forensics lab. your eyes flicked down to the desk, letting your eyelashes hang in a way that made his stomach flip. then, just as quickly, they flicked back up to him, and caleb suddenly felt an inexplicable heat crawling up his neck.

“is this yours?” you asked, already setting the coffee down.

right. on top. of his report.

caleb yanked his headphones off. “do you mind?”

you blinked, then simply offered a smile, and coincidentally, caleb’s heart rate quickened.

the smile wasn’t even an apologetic one. you almost looked amused. irritation flashed through caleb’s field of vision. no wonder he felt tachycardic.

“relax, lab rat. it’s sealed.”

caleb grit his teeth, watching the condensation from the cup bleed into his margins. his eyes met yours again before replying, “that’s not the point.”

you just ignored him, opting to instead lean over his desk and read the header, hair slipping over your shoulder, causing it to brush against his forearm for half a second too long. caleb felt his mouth go dry until you glanced down at his nametag and finally spoke again after a beat.

“caleb, right?”

he frowned, confused and kind of dazed. “yeah?”

“cool.” you offered him your name, and that was as far as the introduction went. “i’m taking the elysium scene.”

“what?”

“i already called it.” you finally lifted your stupid coffee in a mock salute. “jenna said it’s first come, first serve.”

caleb was sure his ears were tinged red by now from irritation as the heat continued to make its way up the back of his head.

“i was jus’ about to call it.”

you simply shrugged. “skill issue.”

then you walked away, lab coat billowing behind you effortlessly.

caleb silently seethed at your back profile like a kettle whistling on high as you slid into conversation with nero like you’d known him for years.

and that set the tone for the foreseeable future. because the two of you disagreed about absolutely everything.

you came waltzing into the lab like you owned the place. not loudly or obnoxiously, no. it was worse, almost with grace. like you were completely and devastatingly comfortable. you stole his field assignments with a casual flick of your hand and a simple, smug “you snooze, you lose.” you leaned over desks that weren’t yours. you borrowed gloves and pens and took up space without even asking, like it was all communal property and not something he had earned inch by inch. and somehow, without trying, you folded yourself into conversations he’d been orbiting for months, laughing with people like the lab had been waiting for you to show up all along.

caleb was convinced you had placed everyone else under a spell and he somehow hadn’t been caught in it. because he was seemingly the only person in the entire unit who had not been bewitched by your fake charm.

he had been grumbling to himself, three weeks after your transfer, clearing out the dry pens you’d forgotten to cap and the fifty something sticky notes you’d stuck over one of the shared monitors, when nero snuck up behind him.

“what’s got you so tight?” nero asked him, placing an arm on caleb's shoulder. caleb flinched but quickly recovered, turning his neck to mutter in response.

“she leaves her stuff everywhere. ‘n then i’m the one left to clean it up.”

nero just shrugged, passing him the coffee he’d usually grab for the both of them from the cafeteria. “i dunno man. she seems to have her own system.”

“well it’s a shit system then.”

“eh.” nero paused to take a sip of coffee and caleb mirrored him. “last i checked, she was the one who pieced together those dna and residue samples found in the no hunt zone case the other night. not you.”

caleb stopped mid sip, the taste of his coffee influenced by the bitter jab. though he knew nero probably didn’t mean it that way, it still prickled at his skin, his cheeks flushing red.

he placed the cup down. “never said she wasn’t smart. all i’m sayin’ is i’m not her goddamn janitor.”

“never said you were.” nero shot back simply. “all i’m saying is to keep an open mind. trust her process.”

eventually, nero started bringing 3 cups of coffee from the cafe.

all of that happened within the first month of your transfer. it had been a little over a year since then.

and what started off as mild annoyance, had blossomed into a venus fly trap, fully baring its teeth. it festered and hardened into something with jagged edges and the feeling was definitely mutual.

caleb wouldn’t say he hated you, no. but there were a lot of things he hated about you.

he hated how you always needed the last word in the lab, how you reran his tests just to prove you could do them faster. he hated the way you stood over his shoulder in those tight button down shirts and straight legged lounge slacks underneath your lab coat and nitpicked every line of his reports like you were the only person in the building who understood chain of custody. he hated how you signed your name on evidence logs in that neat, infuriating cursive. how you gave that smug little smile when jenna praised your work, eyes flicking toward him like you were daring him to object.

he didn't hate that you were more brilliant than him. but he did hate how you thought you were simply better than him for it, no room for disagreement or debate.

a deeper, far more inconvenient part of him hated something else entirely, though. the way your plump, glossy lips looked when you bit them in concentration. the way your lashes framed your wide, doe-like eyes when you finally hit a breakthrough. that sometimes, when you leaned over the microscope or stretched to reach a shelf late into a shift, having long since taken off your lab coat, he had to physically wrench his eyes away from the curve of your ass or the slope where your waist met your chest like some teenage boy who had never seen an adult magazine before.

whenever that itch crawled up his spine and lodged itself in his chest, he buried it deep. he blamed it on exhaustion when it happened late at night. delusion when it happened during long shifts. it was just too much proximity and too many hours and too much you absolutely everywhere stamping your annoying presence in the logs, the notes, the findings, the reports, hell even the trash. at least, that’s what he told himself.

work consumed most of his life anyway. if he wasn’t at the precinct, he was at the gym, or grabbing a drink with gideon and the rest of their friend group. once a month, without fail, he drove out to linkon to visit grandma josephine. his schedule left little room for anything else. besides, his priorities were his career and making sure his gran was taken care of.

it wasn’t that caleb was lonely, no. far from it. he was well liked enough at work. he kept in touch with friends from college. and caleb was sure, if he tried, he wouldn’t have trouble finding someone to spend the night with, or even eventually settle down with. he just didn't feel the need to.

while all his old friends, gideon included (though he seemed to pick up a new girl every couple weeks) found themselves girlfriends and partners and travelled the world, with constant new stories, new experiences, and meeting new people, caleb found that his company was enough to keep him satisfied. he was fine being the lone wolf, though he’d never say that out loud. it sounded corny.

and that was his foolproof explanation as to why he found himself overly thinking about you late into the night, on the drive home, in the shower, when his mind wandered while wrapping up a last minute case. that it came from frustration, and maybe even from being touch starved. but there was absolutely no deeper meaning to it.

tonight, however, was testing his resolve.

it’s nearly eleven and jenna wants the finalized report on the first phase of the EVER case first thing in the morning. paper copy with everyone’s signature in ink and everything, the whole archaic ritual.

and caleb's piece of shit printer chooses that exact moment to die. the godforsaken little screen above the paper cavity blinking ‘Ink Cartridge Error’. how could it betray him when he needed it most?

he tries everything short of threatening it with a firearm.

he tears through every cabinet in his home office, then the living room, the media console under the tv, the kitchen pantry, even the back of his closet. the only thing he manages to unearth is his old high school basketball jersey, which had been missing for months after suspiciously disappearing in a load of laundry.

then he does the next most logical thing.

he texts gideon with complete urgency and a perfectly reasonable number of threatening emojis, begging him to please, if you have printer ink, if you have any at all, bring it over now.

gideon’s reply comes a few minutes later.

Not home.

caleb replies within seconds, which he might have been more embarrassed about had he not been desperate.

if u can’t come over i will send u the documents bro js print them out for me plz 😭😭😭😭😭😭😢😢 i’ll pick them up tmr morning thx

after another couple minutes comes gideon’s reply.

Spending the night at my girls i thought u broke up w her? That was Jules I’m with Tara now Didn’t I introduce you to her at Viper’s party last wk? dude viper does not fw me why would i come to his party 😭✌️

caleb conveniently decides to leave out the fact that he hadn’t even known there was a party, let alone been invited.

Oh Well you can meet her on Friday We still on for Friday right? 👀

caleb just groans and fights the overwhelming urge to repeatedly slam his head on the wall.

which he then proceeds to do anyway, really loudly, ten times in succession.

he immediately regrets it afterwards, staring at the angry red mark forming at the center of his forehead in his bathroom mirror as he rummages through the medicine cabinet for something to dull the sting.

finally locating the cream, he smears it over the blemish with one hand while scrolling through store listings on his phone with the other.

closed.

closed.

closing in ten minutes. twenty minutes away. 

closed.

everything practically closes at ten and the only one that’s open until midnight was in the next city over. even if caleb floored the gas pedal in his modest little sports car (which he invested in recently, thanks to late nights of overtime with you), by the time he’d reach there it would have closed as well.

which leaves him with no other option

the one thing he had secretly sworn to himself he would never do since the day you punched your number into his phone. for work emergencies only, you told him. don’t even think about sending me those unfunny videos you and nero are always laughing at instead of helping me close a case.

his thumb hovers over your contact name. your default contact photo stares back at him almost menacingly, though the actual picture suggests otherwise. it’s a simple, bare faced selfie. you in all your natural glory with your hair loose around your shoulders like a halo, and a soft smile that reaches the sparkle in your eyes. your cat was peeking into the frame from the bottom.

he grits his teeth, ignoring the sudden quickening of his pulse and blaming it on pure irritation and nothing more. after what feels like an eternity, he taps the message icon next to your name, his heart rate increasing unsteadily.

he types out several versions of the same message, each becoming increasingly more hostile, before swallowing his initial irritation and settling on something neutral.

finish the report and bring it here

before adding:

jenna wants a hard copy.

your response comes faster than he expects.

It’s lit done and signed on my end. I’ll email it and u just print it out my printer’s dead Then buy a new one? 😭 just bring it i’ll owe you You alr owe me for the last 3 times “your” findings were actually mine It’s late and I’m in my pajamas now bro idc if ur in a goddamn trash bag bring the report

the typing bubble vanishes. three minutes pass. then ten.

twenty-three stressful minutes later, caleb’s seriously considering asking simone or andrew or somebody for your address, weirdo stalker allegations be damned, when his phone buzzes three times in quick succession.

Fine But ur making me coffee Drop the addy

he regrets it the second he hits send on his address.

now he’s pacing his apartment shirtless, skin still damp from the shower he took in haste (to soothe the pounding on his forehead, he told himself. not because you were coming over or anything). the dog tag he usually wore feels cool against his bare chest, but he barely notices it. he’s too busy trying to pretend his heart isn’t hammering for reasons that have nothing to do with caffeine.

he tells himself he’s just pissed. that’s all. just pissed that you’re making him wait, that you’re probably going to show up looking smug, that you’ve probably rewritten half his conclusions again.

it’s not like his brain is glitching out over the idea of you invading his personal space, or how he'll have to deal with you up close without a lab full of distractions. nope. just work stress that’s festered into dread, he tells himself.

the doorbell to his condo finally rings. he glances at the time.

eleven thirty-two. of fucking course.

he yanks the door open way too hard, expecting your smug expression. what he gets instead makes his brain short circuit.

you stand there in the hallway light wearing a thin white baby tee that clings like it has a personal vendetta, the hem ending just below your navel, and a pair of grey sweatpants slung criminally low on your hips. the fabric is soft, worn and lived in. a lilac bra peeks at the soft square neckline of your top, lace delicate and completely useless at hiding how snug your chest sits beneath it. your hair’s damp and loose, smelling faintly like coconut and that same warm smell and it’s absolutely something that does not belong this close to him.

caleb feels his jaw go slack and something that feels like pure heat coils low in his stomach, sharp and immediate.

damn, if this isn’t the universe's way of testing him. because that’s definitely not a trash bag.

you hold the manila folder out lazily, no pretense of politeness. “your stupid report.”

he doesn’t take it right away. he can’t because he’s too busy recalibrating every thought he’s ever had about you in approximately half a second.

“you’re late, pipsqueak,” he says dumbly, brain running on autopilot. smooth, caleb. real smooth.

you huff out a laugh. “i told you not to call me that. you’re lucky i even came at all... what happened to your face?”

caleb ignores your question and lets out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, trying to will away every frustration. if he wasn't careful around you, he’d end up boiling over again, just as it happened every time, like a stupid fucking kettle.

at least kettles whistle before they explode.

“get in here,” he says, voice coming out surprisingly rough. “before the neighbors think i ordered a stripper.”

great. way to sound like a caveman.

your eyebrows shoot up for half a beat before quickly recovering. you scoff and brush past him.

“don’t get used to this,” you say, slippers padding softly against the wood floor. the scent follows you, curling into his space like smoke. he shuts the door harder than necessary. 

caleb stares at the closed door for a full second before remembering how to move his feet. he quickly turns to follow behind you.

his apartment smells faintly of burnt paper, printer ink and laundry sheets. you wrinkle your nose at the strong smell, then glance at the printer on his desk as he leads you into the office, its error message still blinking like it was mocking him personally.

you turn to him, probably ready to say something stupid. but he wordlessly snatches the report from you before you have the chance to, causing your fingers to brush. 

electricity instantly snaps up his arm. he brushes it off as he turns to leave the report at his desk. you don’t seem to notice though, just padding toward his printer like you owned the fucking place. this was clearly a pattern and someone needed to knock you down a peg or two before… why’s his stomach doing that dumb flipping thing again?

“wow,” you say, leaning down towards the offender to get a better look and let out a patronizing laugh. “she really gave up on you.”

“don’t humanize it,” caleb mutters, the usual irritation building again. “hurts my feelings.”

you turn towards him as he opens the folder and let out a hum to catch his attention. he looks your way, eyes glazed over.

“coffee first. bring the report. we can review it together.”

“nice batcave, by the way,” you say as he leads you out of his office, taking in the dark furniture, the single lit lamp, the painting of a fruit bowl above the fireplace. “very brooding, nerdy loner.”

caleb has to physically bite his tongue. so what if he wanted to go for some dark minimalistic chic? he definitely knew what that meant and did not steal the term from the catalogue that came with it when he panic-bought half his furniture post-grad, right before gran visited his new place. he assured her that everything was set up while sleeping on a mattress on the floor for two months straight. desperate times called for desperate measures. caleb feels his temperature rise at the memory of his subsequent bank statement, annoyance prickling at his ears.

you pause by the mirror between the living room and kitchen, catching his eye through the glass. he quickly breaks eye contact, only to be met with his own scowl as he looks up.

“do you practice that glare too or does it come naturally?”

you’re already moving towards the kitchen before he can even think of a response.

“coffee,” you remind him, hopping up onto his counter, legs swinging. the movement makes your shirt ride higher and your sweatpants dip lower. lilac straps flash at your hips.

he turns away before his traitorous brain gives in to delirium. 

focus caleb.

“you rewrote my fibre transfer conclusions,” he says, voice flat, flipping through the report while the machine warmed up.

“‘cause they were wrong.”

“they were preliminary!” caleb shoots back, heat crawling up his neck as he opens his cupboard and reaches for two mugs.

“they were sloppy.” you tilt your head in his peripheral. “i know your mindset, caleb. you rushed the secondary locus analysis ‘cause you wanted to leave early for the gym. if I hadn’t caught it, andrew would’ve ripped you a new one tomorrow morning.”

how could you act as if he didn’t take his job seriously? he’s spent way too many nights putting in extra hours and overtime, and practically his entire being into his work, to be disrespected like this.

he sets the mug down harder than intended and meets your gaze with his own leveled one.

“maybe if you didn’t spend every waking minute tryin’ to prove you’re smarter than me—”

“i don’t have to try, caleb.” you cut him off calmly. “i just am.”

the air in the kitchen goes razor-sharp. caleb glowers at you while you just smile, his brain going 100mph.

he steps towards you without thinking. he opens his mouth quickly, a comeback on the tip of his tongue, but you’re quicker.

“caleb.” you stop him, your smug-ass smile growing bigger. “do you wanna sit here and argue all night?… or do you wanna sign the report?”

he shuts his mouth, momentarily distracted by the curve of your lips.

silence settles between you. caleb resigns himself to grabbing a pen from his office, and signing where he needs to, the scratch of pen against paper suddenly very loud. he’s acutely aware of you sitting there, observing over his shoulder, close enough that he can feel your warmth, close enough that the faint scent from earlier is back, sweet and distracting and absolutely illegal. what an unfair advantage.

“now,” you start, once he’s capped the pen, seemingly lost in thought. you cross your arms under your breasts. “you gonna stand there shirtless all night or give me that coffee you promised?”

he’s pulled out of his thoughts and quickly moves back to reestablish space between you. the movement of your arms had pushed your chest higher than necessary and the lace had shifted. he catches the faint outline of your nipples through the thin white fabric.

jesus fuckin' christ. eyes up, soldier. this is not a drill.

caleb busies himself with the coffee maker like it might explode if neglected, very aware of how small his kitchen suddenly feels.

“so,” you continue, voice overly casual. “you live alone, huh? figured there’d be a trail of broken hearts leading to the bedroom.”

he pours your coffee and slides it across the counter. your fingers brush again. but this time, you don’t pull away fast enough. the touch lingers half a second too long, and caleb feels that spark shoot straight up his arm like a live wire.

“careful, pipsqueak,” he says, voice coming out lower than he means, suddenly feeling very charged up. “keep talkin’ like that and i might think you’re jealous.”

you snort, but it sounds a little breathier than usual. “jealous of what?”

he doesn’t answer right away. instead, he steps forward, slow and deliberate, until he’s standing between your swinging legs. your thighs brush his hips, and the heat radiating off you hits him like a punch to the gut.

his brain is officially offline. his common sense screams at him to abort mission. this was you. the same person who’s been driving him insane for the past year. the same person he swears he can’t stand. one wrong move and the next morning at work would be nuclear. he’s sure you’ll discover some new silent torture method to create living hell in the lab.

but for once, the snarky part of him that always has a comeback wins out over the part screaming retreat.

“you’ve been ridin’ my ass for more than a year,” he murmurs, hands coming to rest on the counter on either side of your hips, caging you in without quite touching you yet.

“someone has to keep you honest.” you shoot back. he doesn’t miss the hitch in your voice.

“orrr…” he leans in just a fraction, close enough to see the way your pupils dilate. “you just like gettin’ a rise outta me.”

your breath catches. just barely, but he catches it. and that tiny sound is the match to the gasoline, going straight to his already stirring dick. all the late nights pretending he didn’t like you, all the arguments he replayed in his head on the drive home, all the times he jerked off and dreamt of shutting that smart mouth of yours. it all crashes into him at once.

you tilt your chin up, defiant as ever, oblivious to the fire waging in his mind. though he’s sure if you looked close enough, you’d see it smoldering in his eyes. “i do not like you, caleb. like, at all.”

“yeah?” his hand reaches up to brush his thumb at the edge of your jaw, light at first, almost testing. when you don’t pull away, he lets his hand settle there, fingers curling gently but firmly under your chin.

his heart hammers so hard he’s almost sure you can hear it. completely forgetting his own initiation of the situation, he tells himself that this is his last chance to back out. he should say something mean and defuse this. he should take the folder and send you home.

“i don’t like you.” you repeat, but your voice is surprisingly soft, missing its usual defiance.

and despite your words, you don’t move. your eyes flick to his mouth and rest there for a moment before flicking back up, pupils still blown and eyelashes framing them beautifully.

that alone is enough to crumble what little was left of his resolve. he feels the corner of his own mouth twitch up into a small smile.

“tell me to stop,” he says quietly, leaning in until his lips are a whisper from your ear. his voice once more, comes out rougher than he wants, but he honestly doesn’t care anymore.

you shiver with your whole body and the soft little sound you make is half scoff, half something else entirely.

but you don’t tell him to stop. instead, your palms come up and grab at his bare skin, trying to tug him closer. eventually they settle and find purchase at the conjunction between his collar bone and the chain of his necklace.

“just shut up,” you mutter against his mouth.

and then you pull on the chain harshly and kiss him.

it isn’t gentle. it’s a years worth of stolen glances and petty arguments and pretending he doesn’t want to bend you over the nearest lab bench and fuck the attitude out of you exploding all at once. you taste like coffee and cherry lip gloss and every single bad decision he’s ever talked himself out of. he groans into it, hands finally leaving the counter to snake into your hair.

his lips move against your mouth in earnest, pouring everything, every emotion, he has to give you, reverently sliding his hands down to grip at your thighs, pulling you flush against him. he grips hard enough to leave a bruise through the soft fabric of your sweatpants. you bite his lower lip sharply and he growls before his chest grumbles with a chuckle in response.

if you still had it in you to act so irritably, who was he to complain?

trying to regain more control, he catches your wrists and pins them behind your back with one hand. the movement makes you arch, tits pressing against his bare chest, lace scratching at his skin. your nipples are hard enough that he can feel them through the thin fabric of your shirt. he rolls his hips against your core experimentally, once, twice, three times, before stilling. you whine into his mouth in response.

you look absolutely ruined once you two break apart, gasping for air. your hair’s a mess, your clothes askew, lips kissed perfectly swollen and red. the sight alone is probably enough to make him come in his pants. how can he be sure this isn’t some kind of sick and twisted wet dream? he glances at the clock to confirm his suspicions.

“caleb—” you start, still breathing hard, your chest rising and falling.

he cuts you off by biting the spot just below your ear. hard. then he flicks his tongue over the mark he just left, soothing it. it makes you moan, which is a cute, high pitched, breathy little thing, caleb notes.

he yanks you off the counter, spins you around, and bends you over the kitchen island so fast your palms slap the marble to steady your balance. the top rides up completely. he drags your sweatpants down in one rough pull, taking your thong with it until they pool at your thighs.

you are fucking drenched.

lilac lace dark at the centre, a string of arousal clinging to your pussy like it’s painted on, the entire thing absolutely flush and swollen from need.

“fuck, look at you” he rasps, kicking your feet wider. “walkin’ in here dressed like this, you desperate ‘lil thing. actin’ like you didn’t plan this.” he watches as your pussy flutters and clenches around nothing in response.

he pushes his chest against your back, groping at your tits from behind and pulling at your bra.

“who were you wearing this for exactly?” he asks softly, as you arch into his touch. “really pretty matchin’ set you got there pips. this all for me?”

you try to push up against him in indignation, pretty little mouth falling open as you suck air in, getting ready to deny his bold accusations, but he just slams you back down with a hand between your shoulder blades.

“stay.”

he drops to his knees behind you, spreading you open with his thumbs. you’re glistening, clit swollen, and absolutely fucking perfect. he drags his tongue through your folds in one long, filthy stroke.

you cry out, back bowing.

he does it again and again, setting a relentless rhythm. sucking your clit into his mouth until your legs shake, until you’re pushing back against his face, his nose, his tongue, practically riding it, chasing it.

“god pipsqueak,” he groans against you, your pussy muffling his voice, “you taste even better than i imagined.”

“t-told you—nngh—not to call me that!” you say through your hushed moans and gritted teeth.

caleb just hums against your pussy in response, the vibrations of it sending a shockwave up your spine.

he breaks away momentarily, rubbing his middle and ring finger against your slick and then bringing them to his own mouth, tongue swirling around his digits. he brings them back down and sinks only his middle finger in, mouth latching on again, effectively stretching you out. if you feel this tight against one finger, caleb couldn’t even begin to imagine what you’d feel like wrapped around his dick.

he can tell you’re still biting your lip in earnest, trying to stop the whining and moans threatening to fall from your mouth.

“don’t hide those pretty sounds from me.” caleb growls, plunging his finger in harder, thrusting deeper and faster.

“c-caleb—fuck—”

he slides another finger into you without warning, curling them both just right. you clench around them instantly, more arousal gushing out and dripping.

“soaked,” he mutters against you. “you’re tight as fuck pips. gonna need more than this to take me baby.”

you whine unabashedly now, high and desperate, trying to fuck yourself on his fingers. “please ‘leb—promise i can take it—”

he sucks your clit hard, causing you to gasp, then gives it tiny kitten licks as if to soothe it. your moans became gradually louder and more open.

“you’ll take it when i say you can take it. got it?”

you look down at him through heavy, wet lashes, biting your bottom lip, and nod lightly, as if only half listening. the sight is downright erotic.

caleb quickly gets back to it and continues working you open, tongue lapping up and down your slit, in and out of your hole, while his fingers thrust at you just right until you come hard, clenching around them and gasping his name as if it were oxygen. your thighs shake as he keeps lapping at you through it, only slowing once he’s sure the feeling has passed through you entirely.

he stands wordlessly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and keeps eyes locked on yours as you turn your neck to look back at him with a fucked out expression.

he quickly grabs and lifts you with one hand around your shoulders and the other under your knees, your arms reaching out to wrap around his neck. stopping at the couch, he faintly notices your slippers have fallen off somewhere on the way but doesn’t pay it any more attention, instead opting to drop down on the leather with you straddling his lap.

you shove his sweatpants and boxers down just enough to free his dick, which is already leaking at the tip. your mouth drops open a bit in shock at seeing his sheer size. your tits are spilling out the neckline of your top at this point and your own sweatpants are still hung loosely around your thighs. he feels his dick grow harder (if that was even possible) as you gingerly take him into your hands, smearing the precum all over it.

he reaches out and pulls your top down to fully free your pretty tits, groping until your nipples pebble again and watching as the flush from your neck reaches all the way down. he watches as you eagerly try to work your fingers around his fat dick and chuckles. “that bad, pips?”

you glare at him and stop your ministrations, thumb pressing down meanly into the slit at his tip, making him groan. “do you ever shut up?”

he quickly rolls you onto your back and hooks your knees over his elbows, effectively folding you in half. he grabs his cock and slides it up and down your slit, catching on to your clit. “do you?”

you whine impatiently and grind up against him.

he just clicks his tongue at you, which earns him another glare.

laughing, he grabs his cock and aligns himself with your entrance. slowly he inches himself forward, your pussy sucking him in like a vice. you both moan lowly at the stretch.

he gives you a moment to adjust, silently watching as you bite your lip and look down to where you two are joined. the sight is absolutely lewd, your tight pussy taking his huge dick so perfectly, the tiny thing stretching around it to accommodate his size. your swollen clit practically looks at him first, begging to be flicked again and it takes everything in him to not bottom out completely, in fear of hurting you as you so sweetly took him in.

when he can feel you clamping your pussy down around him repeatedly, your breath quickening and your nails dragging down his arms, rocking your hips against him trying to chase friction, he finally draws out. and slams right back in with vigor, as deep as he could go, placing his hands on either side of your head.

quickly, he sets a brutal pace. he grabs on to your pants, treating them like an anchor, pressing you down, and fucks into you with deep and hard punishing strokes that practically shake the couch, if not the entire living room itself. his dog tag dangles back and forth and your tits spill out of your neckline completely, bouncing with every slam of his hips, as he bends his neck down to kiss you and suck on them.

the angle has him hitting all the right spots. you take every inch, eyes rolling back and mouth hanging open. he’s sure you can feel him in your stomach right now, the way he’s able to reach and feel such depth. his suspicions are confirmed when he looks down once more and sees the faint outline of his dick poking in and out at your lower abdomen. you notice it after looking down as well, moans getting increasingly more louder, and try reaching between your bodies but caleb swiftly gathers your wrists and pins them above your head.

“eyes on me.” he says gruffly.

you moan obscenely but follow his instructions, gaze locking with his as he reaches between to rub at your clit in your stead. “fuck, ‘leb—harder, haaa—please harder!”

and who was he to deny you when you begged so sweetly? he stops and draws out and you hum in confusion, dazed. he quickly flips you over and presses your head into the couch making you arch in response, ass high up in the air, eagerly awaiting.

he thrusts back into you, setting the same brutal pace as before, but with more force every time. he wraps your hair around his fist and yanks your head back.

“shoulda known.” he breathes against the shell of your ear, and he doesn’t miss the way it raises goosebumps on your neck before pressing his cheek to yours. “shoulda—haaa—known this was all it’d take to get you to shut that pretty lil mouth of yours.”

he continues to fuck into you, deep and unrelenting, feeling your pussy squeeze and gush around him at his words as he continues.

“this what you wanted all along pips? have me—mmmfh—get all fired up so i could fuck you dumb until you’re pleading for me—nngh—beggin’ for me, squeezin’ around my dick?”

“mhmmm nnngh,” you hum in response, bouncing your ass back and meeting his increasingly more erratic thrusts eagerly.

he suddenly stills, letting go of your hair, and pulls out, leaving only the tip inside. he presses your hips down firmly when you try to chase it.

“say it.”

“y-yeah. fuck, yes, i got on your nerves ‘cause I wanted you to fuck me stupid—please cal—”

he thrusts back into you so hard your knees become airborne for a good second, and the surprised half gasp, half moan that leaves your mouth is probably the most angelic thing caleb’s heard in his entire life.

it only takes a couple more thrusts until you come hard, pussy creaming around his dick, whimpering as it rolls through your entire body in waves. you’re sure you can feel it all the way in your pinky toe, thighs shuddering as he helps you ride it out.

the fluttering is enough to send him over the edge as well. “fuck baby, i’m—haa“, he pulls out and spills all over your back, spurts of cum landing on your top as he moans your name, his cock jerking and twitching.

exhausted and absolutely spent, he slumps down on top of you, moving your hair out of the way to press a kiss to your neck, faintly noticing all the hickeys he's left. he barely has time to mull over how you'd hide them at work the next morning before his eyes flutter shut, arms snaking around you securely.

you let him stay like that for a bit but after a moment the weight of him becomes too heavy.

“caleb,” you squirm underneath him, trying to free yourself from his embrace, “caleb, get off.”

he just hums and nuzzles his cheek against yours, wordlessly rolling the two of you over so that you can rest against his bare chest.

you lift your head in the direction of the counter to check the time, but your eye catches sight of something else.

your voice is still hoarse when you call his name again.

“caleb.”

you have to admit, he looks almost angelic with his eyes closed, blissfully unaware. a stark contrast to his usually stinky attitude. 

you poke at his cheek. “caleb.”

no response.

you shake his arms. “caleb.”

still no response.

“caleb!”

“mmm” comes the infuriatingly sexy grumble, somewhere low in his chest. but still his eyes stay shut.

“caleb, the report is trashed.”

he instantly opens his eyes and lifts his head in the same direction. and sure enough, there it is. the stapled pages ripped apart and askew, and the folder itself nowhere to be found.

you both look at each other for a beat, before bursting into laughter. genuine and earnest laughter.

you get up, and he adjusts your clothes and hair for you, apologizing softly about the mess on the back of your top, saying he'll get you a glass of water as you find your slippers. “come on big boy. let’s get you a new one printed.”

and he lets you lead the whole way.