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supermyeon22 · 13 days ago

Text

for research purposes

pairing: caleb x reader

summary: how on earth were you supposed to write a good sex scene with almost zero experience? good thing your best friend was always willing to lend you a helping hand.

themes: childhood best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, friends with benefits, college! au, slowburn, humour, fluff, angst, petnames, profanity, alcohol consumption, sexual tension, explicit sexual content (oral fem receiving, fingering, nipple play, protected + unprotected sex, clothed sex), porn with so much plot, they're both down bad asf

word count: 25k

lyns notes: its been so long since i've written a full length fic like this, and it ended up being so much longer than I anticipated but please don't get scared by the wc 😭 its so self indulgent because i love caleb and I had way too much fun writing this so I hope you enjoy! <3

This was utterly insane, even for you.

The idea started small, though you supposed you couldn’t ever classify it as innocent. At the time, it had been just a flicker, a fleeting thought that slipped through the cracks of your composure. You were in your best friend's dorm, lounging on his bed like it was your own as you complained.

“I’ve been stuck for weeks now. It’s like I’ve lost the ability to write.”

Caleb glanced over at you from his desk, leaning back in his plush chair as the movement of his fingers over the laptop keyboard stilled for a moment. The expression you received was familiar, you had been on the receiving end of it for years now. One of his lips quirked up, deep lavender eyes alight with amusement, and one eyebrow raised as he took in your anguished state.

“You haven’t lost the ability to write, Pipsqueak, it's just writer's block. You’ve had writer's block before.”

“Not like this.” You shook your head, pulling your knees to your chest and resting your chin on them. “I usually manage to overcome it in a week or so. It’s been like, three months.” Your annoyance with yourself was obvious to him, so clear in the slight pout on your mouth paired with that indignant expression.

It was true, you had been writing ever since you were little. Your imagination ran wild as a child, even before you could physically write, you would spin tales and make up stories to entertain yourself with, frequently getting lost in your own little world. You prided yourself on this talent of yours that helped you breeze through English essays and writing assignments, even going so far as to major in English at university. Writing was your bread and butter. It was more than just being good at it, it was the passion and fulfilment you felt when you did it.

Passion and fulfillment your ass, you couldn’t feel any of that right now.

You were writing a book, your very first one that you started penning in the summer before your sophomore year. The idea had come to you out of nowhere, and once you spent hours outlining all the details, you were certain it was something you wanted to bring to life. The need to finish it burned through you as you spent most of that break stuck at your desk, hunched over your laptop. Caleb had to quite literally drag you out of your room most days, muttering some nonsense about vitamin D and too much screen time.

He had always been like that ever since you were kids – protective, caring, attentive. It was built into his very being, you supposed, ever since he saw you cry outside the first-grade classrooms as a seven-year-old and promised to help you find your way to the correct one. Even now, as he hummed in thought, offering silent support for your frustration.

“You’ve gotten through a large chunk of it, right?”

“Yep.”

A slow, bargaining smile stretched out on his face. “Hey, you know, maybe if you let me read it–”

“Hell no.” You shook your head stubbornly. “I told you, I’m only letting you read it once it's finished, and I think it’s good enough.”

Caleb snorted, “So you mean never?”

You promptly threw one of the plushies on his bed at him. He deftly caught it, laughter slipping from him as he threw it back. The plushy was a grumpy apple one that he had won you back home at the arcade, but the pile of plushies on your bed was so huge that you graciously suggested that he keep it for you. Partial custody, you had joked, I have visitation rights.

“You’ll be the first to read it. I just….need to get through this one bit.”

Ah yes, the bit. The part that you seemed to be cursed to never finish. Everything before it had gone so smoothly, the words flowing and pouring out of you so perfectly. A fun romance novel full of twists and humour was what you aimed to achieve, and it seemed like you were succeeding.

That was, until you reached a part of the story that you truly had no idea how to write. The technicalities of it were.…..unknown at best, to you, who had almost no experience in the matter.

“You know, maybe you could tell me about it. Maybe I could help.” You knew the offer was genuine. Caleb had always been someone you could fall back upon for any assistance. Being two years older than you, in your eyes, he always knew what to do when you were in a pickle. He was the type of friend who placed bandages on your scrapes and offered you candy so you’d stop crying. He carried a hair tie around for when you wanted to tie your hair and helped you study for tests, and explained the concepts that you didn’t understand. Every time you had a problem, he never hesitated to help you in any way he possibly could.

But this….this was something you’d rather die than ask him about.

Immediately, you shook your head a little too quickly, shooting him a tight smile. “Nope, it's fine. Just something I gotta figure out myself.

He stared at you skeptically but shrugged. “Alright. Let me know if you change your mind, okay?”

You wouldn’t.

Would you?

Absolutely not. Even thinking about it felt like a betrayal. It was like opening a can of worms that held snakes. Deadly venomous ones.

And yet here you were, your teeth digging into the plush of your lower lip as he turned back to his laptop screen, continuing to work on whatever assignment he had due. He was in his final year and was infinitely busy, though he somehow still managed to make time for you.

Shamelessly, your eyes studied him. His arms, so well defined and firm-looking, were basically on display for you when he wore that white, sleeveless tee. Dark hair, unruly and messy, no matter how many times you ran your fingers through it in an attempt to fix it. A defined jawline that could probably cut you if you dared touch it. He had grown up unfairly well, no longer the lanky young boy you once knew, now a man. A hot man you had incredible chemistry with.

A very hot man who was completely off-limits.

Still. You supposed that his help couldn’t be the worst thing in the world–

A sex scene. That was what you were struggling to right. In terms of the story, it was a very natural next move for your characters, and it made sense, and while you could simply artistically describe the ordeal and fade to black, you felt it was a necessary addition. You wanted to showcase the desperation the two characters felt for each other, just how deep their feelings ran through something more primal. You wanted it to feel right, to feel magical.

The issue? You hadn’t the faintest idea of how to go about it. In all your nineteen years of life, you had only had sex once, and it had been far from magical. It had been uncomfortable and rushed, the result of a very stupid, drunken one-night stand in your first year. The guy very evidently didn’t know how a woman's body worked, and even thinking back on it made you cringe and fold in on yourself. If it were possible to manually pluck the memory out and destroy it, you would have done it in a heartbeat.

So how on earth were you supposed to write the perfect sex scene when your one sole experience in the matter had been so terrible?

And you couldn’t ask Caleb for help. Even considering doing so made you feel as if you would spontaneously combust. He was your best friend, for crying out loud, and this crossed so many lines. You knew very well that he wasn’t a virgin by any means, having caught glimpses of the occasional hickey on his neck despite his best efforts to hide it from you. He was twenty-one, experienced and could probably talk you through it–

Nope. Not going here.

The idea of Caleb explaining sex to you was mortifying. You didn’t want to hear about any of his conquests, even just the thought of him talking about it made you want to throw up. The notion of him having sex only made your cheeks warm and your throat go uncomfortably dry.

Against your will, the thought festered. It burrowed its way into your mind and settled there as if it belonged, despite its having no business being there. This was completely unethical, but before you could stop yourself, your gaze zeroed in on his tongue darting out of his mouth, licking his lips in concentration as he typed out something. For a second, you wondered how it would feel if he dragged that tongue across the skin of your neck.

Oh my god. What if he simply showed you?

The moment that depraved idea popped into your head, you shot up, getting to your feet with urgency. Startled, he looked over at you, frowning at the alarmed look on your face.

“Are you good?”

“I’m great!” Your voice sounded funny, like you were trying to digest a rock. “I just– er– remembered I have some homework to finish for tomorrow. So I should get back to my room.” You padded over to his door, slipping into your shoes and waving at him. “See ya.”

“....Bye.” He watched your awkward, rushed movements with a puzzled look on his (very nice) face.. You nodded curtly before opening the door and escaping the confines of his dorm, out of his scrutinising gaze that could read you annoyingly well. Another minute in there and you knew he would be grilling you for your odd behaviour.

Jesus Christ. You were so screwed.

“Y/n? Girl, you gotta get your head in the game.”

Tara’s voice cut through your reverie, causing you to snap out of it. One glance up at her would reveal an unimpressed look directed at you, her hands on her hips. “Our darling editor wants to know why your article isn’t on her desk yet.”

Tara was your closest friend after Caleb, and you had met her when you joined the university paper as a student journalist. She was smart, pretty and always had your back no matter what. Blinking rapidly, you sighed, waving your hand.

“Tell Jenna I’ll have it there by the end of the day.”

“You better. You know how she is about deadlines.” Tara pulled one of the chairs from the desk beside yours closer and sat on it, resting her elbows on the armrests. “Seriously, though, why are you spaced out today?”

Well, there was no way you could tell her the truth about that. So you resorted to using a half-truth as an answer. “Writer's block.”

“Ah.”

You turned back to the screen of your computer, staring at the article you had been writing. It was almost finished, thank god. At least here, you had the facts to write around, having done your research. Very different to the situation you found yourself in regarding your stupid book.

Ugh.

“By the way, your boyfriend’s here.”

Your head snapped up at her words, already ready to argue, knowing exactly who she was talking about. Walking into the newsroom holding two coffees was Caleb, wearing that blue-orange jacket that you had bought him for one of his birthdays. He did this pretty often, sauntering in like he owned the place even though he was technically not allowed to be there. Jenna had repeatedly reminded him of this, but he brushed it off, and after a while, she simply stopped bothering. Thus, despite not being on the paper, he spent a lot of time in the newsroom.

This was another problem you faced daily: people mistaking him for your boyfriend. The number of times you had to rehash the fact that he was simply your best friend was astounding, and back when you were a freshman, the constant whistles about you dating an upperclassman– and none other than Caleb Xia– drove you mad. You chalked it down to none of them being fortunate enough to experience a friendship as fulfilling and real as the one you had with him.

“He’s not my boyfriend.” You dropped your voice, keeping it just loud enough for her to hear your rebuttal that held a hint of venom, plastering a smile on your face as he closed in. Tara snickered.

“Sure, and I’m the queen of England.”

“Hey,” Caleb grinned down at you, his eyes momentarily flitting to your friend. “And what?”

“Nothing,” you said brightly, shooting her a murderous look that silently told her to zip it. She smiled innocently and shook her head, slipping back to her desk without another word.

“She’s an odd one,” he quipped, handing you one of the coffees and then shrugging off the jacket, dumping it on the free space on your desk. You already knew it was your regular order, something he had memorised years ago. You sipped the drink, letting the hot liquid calm you down, grateful for the caffeine. You hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before, spending it tossing and turning in your bed.

And why was that?

Caleb leaned against your desk. “Are you free later today?”

A dejected sigh escaped you. “Unfortunately, no. I need to finish this article by the end of the day, and it seems like my writer's block has infected every aspect of my life.” It was ironic, just how true that statement ran.

“Damn.” You could hear the tinge of disappointment in his voice. “I was hoping we would have movie night. I stocked up on your favourite candy.” He reached over, his fingers brushing against the skin of your forehead as he pushed some of your hair that fell in front of your eyes away from your face, neatly tucking it behind your ear like it was second nature. It was, you supposed, considering he had done so about a hundred times.

But something was different this time, or perhaps you were paying far too much attention to every little thing. To how he pulled back and the way the muscles in his forearm shifted subtly, making you wish he had kept the jacket on. The brief touch lingered on your skin, burned into it.

Fucking hell, you were a mess. A tragic, down-atrocious mess.

Your eyes lingered on his fingers for a moment. Heat crept up your neck, and you coughed, rubbing it absent-mindedly, hoping to push down the flush you felt taking over your body. It had been like this ever since the day in his dorm when your brain had decided to work against you and infect you with the thought of sex with your best friend.

What better way was there to describe your state than calling it an infection? It certainly felt like some sort of sickness with the way it plagued you against your will. Somehow, it was worse than the doomed crush you had harboured for him back when you were in high school, because at least that had been innocent. That was born out of pure admiration, and you were sixteen. A lot of things done at sixteen could be brushed off under the excuse of being young and naive. You had quickly gotten over it.

You were evidently no longer so naive. In fact, you knew too much.

“Maybe next time.” You managed to choke out finally after a silence that had stretched a beat too long. Part of you hoped he’d leave you alone now so that you could calm down and refocus your attention to the article.

But of course, he didn’t. Instead, he occupied the chair Tara previously had, complaining about one of his classes as you nodded along, sipping your coffee and glancing between him and your screen. The smooth cadence of his voice usually soothed you and calmed you down, but now it only put you on edge, flowing over scrambled thoughts like honey. Had his arms always been this nice?

You were going to hell.

All things considered, you held yourself to certain standards. You were a woman with morals and integrity, and you were not in the habit of staring at shirtless men.

Except when it was Caleb, apparently.

“Why are you half-naked?” You blurted out gracelessly, heat viciously curling up your body as your eyes dropped down to his torso. You gripped the Chinese takeout you had gotten on your way back from your evening class a little tighter as you took in his figure. A silver chain with a tag and apple pendant (something you had given him before he left for university while you were still struggling in high school) on his bare chest and perfect sculpted abs, running shorts hanging low on his hips.

“I was working out.” He said casually, taking the bag of takeout from your hands and walking back into his dorm, leaving you to follow him. You bit down on your tongue hard, almost hoping you’d draw blood.

This was ridiculous. You had seen him shirtless several times before and had never reacted like this. The other times hadn’t caused you to flush and definitely didn’t cause your heart rate to spike. It didn’t have you furiously fighting off thoughts that had threatened to consume you for over a week now, pushing them back into the furthest parts of your mind and locking them there.

“I’m almost done, could you grab sodas from the fridge?” Caleb placed the food on the table beside his bed. You wordlessly complied, picking the apple-flavoured sodas that both of you liked. Turning back to the main area of his dorm, you walked over, only to stop dead in your tracks.

Caleb was on the floor. Doing push-ups.

There was nothing inherently sexual about it in the slightest. You knew he liked to stay in shape, hitting the gym at least thrice a week to maintain his physique– a very nice physique that seemed to be your current undoing. His hair fell across his forehead, a little matted from sweat. You watched as he pressed down and back up, and in a moment of weakness, you wondered how it would be if you were under him instead of standing to the side and ogling like an idiot. Would his necklace dangle above you, swinging back and forth in your face?

Dear god. You needed to be sedated. Put down, even.

Finally, he seemed to be done, lowering himself down and then rolling onto his back. He sucked in a breath of hair, running his hands through his hair and messing it up even further. Finally, he sat up and looked up at you, a singular eyebrow raised.

“Why are you just standing there?”

Brilliant question. If only you could answer it.

Choosing to skillfully evade instead, you tossed him his soda can and grabbed his laptop from his desk, settling down next to him on the floor. Tonight, the two of you had decided to have dinner together and catch up on an anime you had started together a couple of weeks ago. It had been a while since you had properly hung out, and you knew damn well that it was all your fault.

You were avoiding him. Mentally and physically, especially physically. Caleb, however, being the understanding, saint of a man that he was, chalked it up to you being busy. He made sure to check in on you, shooting you texts or sending you funny videos he knew you’d like.

“We should try and finish all the episodes up until the latest one,” You said, opening up his laptop and logging into the anime site. “They released a new one on Wednesday.”

Caleb hummed, stretching his arms as he shuffled closer. Immediately, you froze, the close contact inciting pure panic within you. Jerking away from him, you glared, holding a hand out to keep an arm's distance between the two of you, much to his confusion.

“Put on a shirt.”

He frowned. “Why? It’s really hot.”

Indeed, it was. “Exactly. You’re all sweaty and gross.”

You really shouldn’t have said that. The moment the words left your mouth, his mouth curled into a smirk– one so disgustingly attractive that you were sure your knees would have probably buckled if you weren’t already sitting down– and his eyes lit up with a mischievous glint that told you he was up to no good. Carefully, he wrapped a hand around your wrist, and the contact has your brain short-circuiting and going into overdrive.

“I think that means you want a hug.”

“Wait– don’t you dare– Caleb!” You yelped as he tugged you harshly, forcing you to fall into his lap, his laughter resounding through the small dorm room. Awkwardly, you shoot your other hand out to steady yourself, placing it on his shoulder as you tumble into him, knee slotting in between his legs and body so dangerously close to his that you wanted to scream. Smoothly, he wrapped his other arm around your waist, circling it and somehow tugging you even closer, until you were flush against him.

“What are you gonna do now, Pips?” He taunted, voice just above a whisper right against your ear.

Unicorns, you bleakly thought to yourself. Puppies. Cupcakes. Sprinkles.

“You’re so annoying,” You hissed, throwing as much irritation into your voice as you possibly could in the hopes that it would drown out the shakiness you felt. His skin under your fingertips was warm, and you could feel that warmth through the fabric of your tank top. “Go fuck yourself.”

He laughed harder, the sound so contagious it broke you out of your downright sinful thoughts. You gripped his shoulder a little harder, mentally chastising yourself for the situation you found yourself in, knowing that there was no good reason for you to be this riled up. Playfighting with him was something you were used to; it was natural. It should not have had your blood pressure rising and heart slamming in your chest so violently.

Swallowing thickly, you barely processed how he let go of your wrist, his other arm also coming to rest around your waist as he pulled you further into his lap so that you were now sitting on top of him. Before you even had the chance to react to that, he buried his face in the crook of your neck and inhaled.

“Missed you this week,” He mumbled softly against your rapidly heating skin. You froze for a split second at the contact, hopelessly blaming the flush spread over your cheeks on the humid weather.

And then you softened.

Instinctively, your arms wrapped around his neck as you hugged him back. “I missed you too,” You whispered, following up with a lie to keep him off your trail. “Just had a lot of work.”

“I know,” he said so patiently that you instantly felt guilty. He lifted his face from your neck so that he could stare at you, and it hit you just how intimate the position the two of you were in was. Although reserved with others, Caleb had always been pretty openly affectionate with you. His hand on the small of your back, fingers intertwined with yours, a light kiss to your temple in encouragement– he had been doing stuff like that to you since you were ten.

So why did it suddenly affect you so much? Why did something so normal for you make you feel so different now?

“Just….tell me about it,” he continued, those mesmerising purple eyes of his locked onto yours. “Shoot me a text. Let me know what's up with you. Don’t you remember the last time you shut everyone out because you were stressed?”

You did remember. It was during your finals last year, when the workload you had overwhelmed you so badly that you simply pushed everyone away until they were over. Caleb had to practically storm his way back into your life and demand that you take a break and slow down before you worked yourself to the bone. The fact that he remembered this only made your guilt worse because your distance this time had nothing to do with your classwork.

It had everything to do with him, though.

“Yeah, yeah,” you mumbled, slowly slipping out of his embrace and settling down next to him once again. You had to remind yourself of what he was to you, and all this thirsting for him was neither healthy nor something a good best friend would do. “I’m not gonna do that again.”

“I’m just saying. And what the hell am I supposed to do with my free time if you’re not here to bother me?” He flashed you that shit-eating grin of his that you were starting to think was more devastating than mischievous.

You had to resist strangling him.

There was only one possible conclusion: something was deeply wrong with you.

How else were you supposed to explain your borderline insane behaviour? It had gotten even worse lately, causing you to daydream at the most inconvenient times, like when you were trying to get an assignment done or even in the middle of class. It was a wonder your professors hadn’t called you out for it yet.

Some level of restraint seemed to remain, though, with you stopping your thoughts from crossing any lines. The moment you caught your mind straying into dangerous territory, you forced yourself to stop, desperately searching for another distraction.

But there was only so much you could do. Thinking was proving to be a dangerous activity.

You pressed your palms into your eyes, hard. It was almost three in the morning, and you hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep. Earlier, you had tried to write around the damned scene, but emerged fruitless. It was like an obstacle you had to clear before you could get to the next level of a game, taunting you with its incompletion.

Something else taunted you, simmering underneath the expanse of your skin. Things that hadn’t even happened yet, but you had already dreamed of them– his mouth on yours, his hands tracing your body with a feather touch.

You were even wearing one of his shirts right now, the oversized tee reaching down to your mid-thighs. Several, just like the one you currently wore, sat neatly in your closet, having been stolen from him over the years. You could faintly smell his cologne; cidery and comforting, enveloping you in what felt like it could be his embrace. Turning onto your side, you pulled the blanket over your body and stared at the wall blankly.

Caleb had been your safe space for so long, and perhaps that was why you gravitated so easily to thinking about him like this. If there was anyone you trusted in such an intimate sense, it was him.

Even if it shouldn’t have been.

God knows you needed to get laid. Unfortunately, you didn’t want just anyone.

You swore you had never been this horny before, least of all for your best friend. Thinking about him in such a salacious way was strictly a new development that was quickly ruining your life, haunting you day and night. Even now, lying in your bed, heat that was impossible to ignore bloomed between your legs.

Maybe if you just indulged once, this madness would stop. Maybe you just needed an orgasm, and then you’d stop going insane over every single interaction you had with Caleb. It didn’t even have to be about him, and this was normal; everyone needed a release now and then.

Your fingers slipped between your legs, pushing the fabric of his shirt up, tracing the outline of your cotton underwear. Your eyes fluttered shut as you let your fingertips gently graze against where you needed them most, letting your legs fall apart just a little bit–

Deep purple eyes flashed behind your closed eyes.

Gasping, you retracted your hand like you had been burned. There was no way in hell you could touch yourself with him in mind; that was everything you had been avoiding for the past three weeks, ever since the notion had first sprouted. Groaning, you buried your face into the pillow.

This had to have been the stupidest cause of insomnia ever.

Caleb 🍎 [15:32 pm] : i better see u at the party tonight :D

Caleb 🍎 [15:32 pm] : will pick u up at 9

Caleb 🍎 [15:32 pm] : no buts.

Caleb supposed that this was technically his fault.

Mentally, he had already prepared for this outcome. It was why he had barely drunk the entire night, barely finishing two drinks and opting out of playing beer pong with the rest of his friends, despite Gideon's need for another member on his team.

“Come on, Pipsqueak.” He had an arm around your waist to help steady you, ensuring you wouldn’t fall flat on your face. You stumbled into the elevator, and he jammed the number of your dorm floor as you wrapped your arms around his torso weakly, leaning into him. Right now, he was the only thing keeping you upright.

You were drunk, slurring your words and unable to walk in a straight line without any assistance type of drunk. And yes, this was his fault.

Probably. Definitely.

One of the frat houses had thrown a party, and he had insisted that you come with him. He had always been great at reading you, and for the last couple of weeks, you had seemed tense over something, though you hadn’t told him what exactly it was yet. That was fine, he knew that eventually you’d spill, but for now, all he wanted to do was help you let loose.

That was exactly what he told you to do when both of you arrived at the party, even pouring you your first drink. Halfway through the party, you seemed more relaxed than you had in the last couple of days, swaying along to the music by his side. He made sure not to drink too much, wanting to be sober enough to safely get you back to your dorm just in case you overdid it.

His intuition always ended up being right when it came to you.

You whined as the elevator dinged, the doors opening. “Everything is spinning.”

“I know, honey, we’re almost there.” He helped you walk into the hallway, smoothly taking your handbag from you and extracting your keys. Holding you tighter, he opened the door and pulled you through, carefully seating you down on your bed and taking your boots off.

Like clockwork, he grabbed a bottle of water from your bedside table, unscrewed it and held it to your cherry-tinted lips. You only used that specific lip-tint when you were going out, and each time you did, he found himself wondering if it tasted like cherry as well. Even now, as he gently propped his index finger under your chin and tilted your face upwards, he entertained the idea of tasting it for himself.

But he wouldn’t.

“Drink up,” He said softly, “You’re gonna have a nasty hangover tomorrow.”

Obediently, you parted your lips, drinking with his help. Your cheeks were flushed due to the alcohol, hair a little frizzy from the heat, but still maintaining the styling you had done before the party. To him, you looked stunning at all times, but he could see the effort you had put in to look nice tonight, from your outfit (a black halter top and jeans) to your makeup, which he knew he’d have to help you take off now.

Once he deemed the amount of water you had drunk enough, he put the bottle back and went into your bathroom, knowing exactly where to find your makeup wipes. He had taken care of you like this once before, so his body moved like clockwork. There was no point in trying to get you to the bathroom– you’d probably just sit down on the floor and stay there for the rest of the night– so he took the wipes with him and crouched down in front of where you sat on your bed.

Smiling, he held your face again, this time a little firmer. “You’d hate yourself if you went to sleep before you took your makeup off,” he whispered, pulling one of the wipes out and dragging it over the apples of your face. Then, he glanced up and into your eyes, noting how you stared at him so keenly, even through a half-lidded gaze, lips slightly parted.

If Caleb could’ve kept your attention on him like this for the rest of his life, he would have.

“What's going through that head of yours?” He cocked his head to the side, studying your intent expression. Immediately, you looked away, but he wasn’t going to back down. Something had been troubling you, and he was determined to find out what. If you wouldn’t tell him outright, he would simply have to guess. “Is it your book, again?”

Your inebriated state made it hard for you to hide things from him. You stiffened in his touch, and he chuckled. “Bingo. You know, if you just told me what you were struggling with, I’d help.” He pressed your chin lightly, angling your face downwards. “Close your eyes.” He gently wiped over your eye makeup, making sure it was all off before continuing. “I know I’m not a writer, but I’m sure I'll be of some value.”

Finally done, he neatly folded the dirty wipe and placed it to the side. “Want some more water? Alcohol is dehydrating.”

And then, out of nowhere, you spoke.

“Sex.”

Well, blurting would probably be a better way to describe how you said the word. Caleb blinked rapidly, wondering if he had heard you correctly as his face snapped back to yours, eyes wide.

“What?”

“Sex.” You slurred a little bit as you leaned closer to him, jutting your lower lip out in a pout and repeating it once more for good measure. “Sex.”

“I heard you the first time,” Caleb could hear how strangled his voice was, unable to think straight at your sudden declaration. Oblivious to his mental distress, you thrust out your hand and pointed at the laptop that sat on your desk with drunken animosity.

“I can’t write a stupid sex scene.”

You sounded so crestfallen, and he would have totally started sympathising with you if not for the reason. A sex scene? What on earth were you writing?

“I–” He swallowed, “Well–”

“I mean, how am I supposed to write a good sex scene if I don’t know what good sex feels like? Or what even like, happens?” Alcohol had certainly loosened you up, and perhaps a bit too much, having erased any filter that you had. This resulted in you rambling on about everything you would have usually kept to yourself, and for good reason. “The sex I’ve had has been shitty.”

The sex you’ve had? Caleb almost bit his tongue off in shock, staring at you incredulously at the information you had dumped on him. He hadn’t even known you had been having sex, and thank every god for that, because he would have probably jumped off a cliff if you ever talked about your sex life with him. Surely, this was some sort of twisted fever dream he had found himself in. This could not have been real life.

“Christ,” He choked out, “I–okay, maybe I can’t help you–”

“Yeah, you can.” Your eyes cut to his, a little too intense for his sanity. “If you fucked me, I’d probably be able to write the scene.”

He gaped at you, about a dozen inappropriate thoughts running through his head before he could stop it. “What did you just say?”

Teenage Caleb would have died if he had heard you say that. Adult Caleb nearly did.

You sighed heavily, and it only succeeded in causing him to spiral even more. “I thought about it. I’m sure it would be good, y’know. You’d know what you were doing, you even look like you’re good at it.”

“You’re so drunk.” He tried to reason with himself out loud, but could hardly recognise his voice with how strained he sounded. Looked like he was good at it? What alternate dimension had he just fallen into?

“Oh, come on, Caleb. I need some hands-on learning, and you–” you slurred the words as you leaned close and wrapped your hands around his bicep, peering up at him through your lashes. “–have very nice hands. They’re hot.”

You, his best friend, his pipsqueak, had thought about sleeping with him. You thought his hands were hot. The news nearly killed him, and he had to force himself to look away from you, his mind running at a mile a minute. Heat prickled at his face and neck, impossible to ignore as he cleared his throat and stood to his feet, pulling away from your touch.

“You should sleep.” He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans, stepping away from you. “I–I’ll see you tomorrow.” It was as if he were going through puberty all over again, with the way his voice cracked embarrassingly as he spoke. He left your room hurriedly, barely getting his shoes back on as he closed the door behind him and leaned against it.

Caleb exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose as the back of his head hit your door. All these years of barely keeping it together around you, carefully tiptoeing between right and wrong, only for you to come and crash into whatever self-restraint he had left.

Right and wrong.

All of a sudden, he wasn’t sure if he was going to choose correctly anymore.

Death had to have been more merciful than the pounding in your head. Grabbing the covers, you pulled them over yourself like a cocoon, trying your hardest to block out all noises and sink even further into your mattress.

Unfortunately, your hangover-induced headache made it nearly impossible for you to go back to sleep. Cursing, you forced yourself out of bed and into the bathroom to freshen up and change out of your clothes and into something more comfortable. Naturally, you gravitated towards an oversized shirt and a pair of shorts, pulling them on after a quick shower.

Then, you went right back to your bed, not wanting to face the day in the slightest. You had managed to resist throwing up so far, and even the thought of having to function like a normal human being made you recoil into your blanket and stay there for the rest of the week. Just as you began to genuinely entertain that notion, a sharp knock at your door caught your attention.

You would have ignored it if you didn’t know the pattern of this knock by heart. No one but Caleb knocked twice in sequence.

Cursing under your breath, you scrambled to the door and opened it, squinting as the bright light of the hallway outside nearly blinded you. There he stood, grinning down at you as he held up a paper bag.

“Aspirin.”

“Thank god,” you immediately let him in, taking the medicine from him and pouring yourself a glass of water. He stood right behind you as you took the pill, ruffling your already messy hair and staring for just a second too long.

“Bad morning, huh?”

“You have no idea.” You winced at the whiny nature of your voice. “It feels like my head is trying to stab itself.”

Caleb chuckled dryly, sitting down on your bed and watching as you settled at your desk and ran your fingers through your hair, trying to smooth out the knots. Something was different about the way he was looking at you, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

“You’ll be fine,” He muttered, shifting his gaze to the ceiling. You frowned, taking in the way his jaw ticked, and placed your glass of water down.

“Are you okay?”

“Me? Yeah, I’m fine.” He said it a little too brightly, glancing down at your desk. Something flickered in his eyes. “Made any progress on that book of yours?”

A frustrated sound left you buried your face in your hands, elbows on your desk. The reminder of your stagnant writing somehow worsened your headache, as if that was even possible. Of course he’d bring that up. “As usual, no.”

For a while, you had hoped that inspiration would strike you eventually, but it seemed like you were well and truly stuck. It had only taken a turn for the worse, with you suddenly despising everything you had already written, unable to even skim any of it without cringing and wanting to hit delete. Your inability to write had morphed into impostor syndrome, which was a development you didn’t appreciate in the slightest.

“It’s okay,” he said, and you would have mistaken his tone for reassuring if not for the way his lips twitched slightly. “I’m sure you’ll be able to write eventually. After you fuck me, apparently.”

Silence.

Razor-sharp silence.

Slowly, you turned your head to face him, eyes wide as saucers. “What….did you just say?”

“Only what you said last night. You said you were sure it would be good, which I beg to differ. It would be amazing, thank you very much.” He dared to smile oh-so innocently, as if he hadn’t just upgraded the superlative of what sex with him would potentially be like.

If you thought you were going to throw up before, you were sure you were going to now. You almost choked on your spit, waves of unadulterated shock crashing through your system as you gawked at your best friend, who appeared much too pleased with himself at the moment. If you weren’t so utterly horrified, you would have tried to slap the smug expression right off of his face.

“No.” The singular word comes out breathless, much to your mortification, your gut churning at the implications of that statement. “No, no, no–”

“Oh yes,” He grinned wickedly, leaning back on the palms of his hands.

“What–what the fuck did I drink last night.” You tried your levity, but your embarrassment ran too deep. Reaching up, you covered your face with your hands in a pathetic attempt to hide away from him. Never, in a million years, had you ever accounted for having this conversation with him, of all people, and you were almost certain there was something in your drinks that had made you say what you did.

His velvety laugh echoed through your dorm, and you wanted nothing more than to fold in on yourself. This had to have been the worst moment of your life.

“I guess you don’t remember, huh?” There was an amused lilt to his tone that made you want to jump out of the window. “I can refresh you, if you’d like.”

“NO!”

The shriek that left you was nothing short of abashed. He leaned forward now, smirking at you conspiratorially. “What's wrong? I thought you needed,” he paused, as if recollecting the exact words you had said to humiliate you even further. “Hands-on learning?”

You pointed to the door, biting back a scream. “Get out.”

The smirk only grew. “Aw, but if sleeping with me is gonna help you write again–”

“OUT!” You glared, cheeks flaming. Your anxiety had prepared you for at least a hundred outright ridiculous situations that had no chance of ever occurring, but none of them accounted for the possibility of your best friend talking about sleeping with you. You couldn’t fathom how he seemed so unaffected by it, as if he were speaking about something as mundane as the damn weather.

Caleb tongued his cheek, evidently fighting off another bout of laughter. He raised his hands to his sides in a placating gesture, but it did nothing to soothe your frazzled nerves. If anything, it only distracted you further, your eyes betraying you and straying to glance at his hands. A suppressed memory from last night resurfaced in your mind's eye, much to your displeasure.

You have very nice hands. They’re hot.

That was it. You were never going to touch alcohol again. Sobriety was your way of life now, seeing that you couldn’t keep your mouth shut when under the influence. The next time you need to let off some steam, you’d have an iced coffee.

“Alright, alright, I’ll go.” He moved towards your door, hiding his teasing smile behind his fist, disguising his chuckle with an exaggerated cough. “But Y/n?”

He didn’t use his beloved pet name. You straightened slightly, momentarily pushing away your embarrassment at the sudden serious shift of his voice. He opened the door and paused, hesitating for a single second. Then, he looked back at you, all-consuming, violent eyes locking onto yours.

“I would do it if you asked.”

You sighed heavily as you walked out of your last class of the day, rubbing the back of your neck and peering up into the darkening sky. Thursdays were the one day of the week when you had longer classes one after the other, which always resulted in you feeling exhausted by the end of it. You barely had the energy to even think about putting together dinner, which your best friend knew, always swinging by once your class ended with enough take-out for both of you and to walk you back to your dorm.

Which meant…

“I hope you’re in the mood for Thai food.”

Caleb slid into your view with that easy-going smile of his, though lately and much to your annoyance, there seemed to be a knowing glint in his gaze every time it settled on you.

“I’m in the mood for anything edible.” You sighed as you began walking back to your dorm. He easily fell into step beside you, as always, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. You supposed it was, considering how long your friendship had lasted. It would be almost twelve years soon, and honestly, you could hardly remember a time when he wasn’t around.

He hummed, knowing how cranky you got when you were hangry. “So easy to please.” It was the way he said it, knowing and with a tone so low that it almost resembled a purr. It had goosebumps rising on the surface of your skin. A little outraged at the way you reacted, you glanced over at him, only to find him already looking at you.

It was how he always looked at you, with conviction and every ounce of his attention. Yet, it felt different, more intense. Or maybe that was just your brain playing tricks on itself.

I would do it if you asked.

Those seven words had haunted you from the moment he had spoken them. The serious expression on his face mixed with the quiet way he had said it– it had undoubtedly fucked you up a little more than you would have liked to admit. You were beyond infuriated and in complete disbelief over how he had simply offered to sleep with you. Like it wasn’t a big deal or a very major, clear boundary that existed in friendships. In your friendship.

If you asked. Like it was that fucking simple. He left your dorm since you demanded it of him, but left you to deal with the aftermath of that absolutely criminal statement of his.

And then there was the teasing.

Relentless and unsteadying. Caleb would say something a little too suggestive or downright sexual before retreating and pretending like nothing had happened. He’d hold your gaze a little longer, or let his touch linger, before looking away with a satisfied smirk. He knew damn well what he was doing, and although you did too, it didn’t stop you from flushing or freezing up. It certainly didn’t stop scenarios from writing themselves in your head.

He was torturing you for your little slip-up. He found it hilarious, and now you were the punchline for every joke that blossomed from it.

He cocked his head to the side now, a small, tilted smile on his lips as he spoke. “What's going on in at head of yours?”

You realised you had stopped walking, and so had he, instead standing right in front of you and occupying every part of your vision. “Nothing.”

Caleb quirked an eyebrow, taking a step closer. “You sure about that? You’re obviously thinking about something.” The cadence of his voice had always been nice, but now the velvety smoothness of it put you on edge in more ways than one. “Are you maybe thinking about–”

“I am not thinking about that.” The statement tumbled out of you before you could bite your tongue. His eyes lit up mischievously.

“Oh, so you’re thinking about something after all, are you?”

Your mouth opened and closed like a fish, struggling to findd to find a comeback to that. Somehow, he was even closer now.

“Mind telling me what exactly that is?”

“Stop it,” You almost snarled, shooting him a withering look as you pushed him away in order to reclaim your personal space. This teasing streak of his was getting unbearable, especially since it was anything but innocent and was driving you up the wall. “Or I’m gonna take the Thai food and leave you with nothing.”

An offended gasp. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would.”

He laughed at your threat and finally let up on you, going back to being the Caleb you knew. He spoke of his classes and the group project he had due at the end of the week, for which he had terrible teammates to work with. It was jarring, how easily he could shift back into acting like he hadn’t just insinuated something so….

Maybe it was just your dirty mind.

Unbeknownst to you, it definitely wasn’t just your dirty mind. Caleb was mentally punching himself.

Caleb had had years of practising self-control when it came to you. Years of holding back and hiding the feelings he had for his best friend, shying away from every opportunity to divulge them. He knew how to keep his hands to himself, his mind from straying and his tongue from running into dangerous territory. He hadn’t meant to do it, but your drunken confession had flipped a switch inside of him. The lines had gotten a little blurry, but he would never, in a million years, ever actually cross them.

So what the hell was wrong with him?

You still hadn’t written a word. Unfortunately for you, you couldn’t even complain about it in peace anymore. Not if you wanted to maintain even a modicum of your sanity.

The reason for said dwindling sanity was sitting beside you right now on his bed, his arm slung around your shoulder, fingers tracing abstract patterns on the top of your shoulder. Usually, this would have calmed you down and even made you sleepy, but it achieved the complete opposite right then. You were painfully awake, his feathery touch like electricity against your skin.

God, you were so fucked. You had hoped that Caleb’s incessant teasing would have put a damper on your sudden, strong attraction towards him, but nothing of the sort had happened. It seemed to have only gotten worse, with you ending up being jumpy whenever he was around, and considering the amount you hung out with him, you were starting to resemble a kangaroo.

Around him, you were constantly tense and always on the precipice of being turned on. To say it was hellish would be an understatement.

“You’re distracted,” he murmured as the credits of the movie you were watching played. Finally, the two of you had managed to find the time to have that movie night you had passed on weeks ago. You shook your head, glancing up at the clock that hung on his wall. It was a little past midnight.

“Just frustrated,” you said finally, because it was the truth in more ways than one. Your frustration with your writing, or lack of, ran deep, but now it was intertwined with another very persistent reason. Being sexually frustrated wasn’t something you were used to dealing with.

He seemed to have caught on, though, his hand falling from your shoulder to your waist, curling around it. “Why are you frustrated, Pipsqueak?” He drawled, turning his head so that he faced you now. Of course, he’d pick this moment to torment you, when you were already frazzled.

“No reason,” you said quickly, voice clipped. A slow, languid smile stretched out on his lips.

“No?” He asked, the side of his mouth tilting. “Could it be….”

“Stop talking.” You despised how hoarse your voice sounded. You wanted– no, needed him to stop doing this before it became unbearable. He was your best friend, for fucks sake. The smile on his annoyingly perfect face melted into a smirk that would have had your knees weak if you weren’t already sitting down.

“I don’t think I will.” He whispered, pulling you even closer as he dipped his head down until his lips brushed against your ear. It was like he wanted you to break, and god, you were so close to doing so. His hand slid up your waist just a little bit. A shiver ran through you, one you couldn’t have suppressed if you tried.

“Tell me,” He mumbled, the words sounding much too loud even though he was still whispering. “Do your frustrations have anything to do with a certain sex scene you’re trying to write?”

You inhaled sharply.

Rationality was a funny thing. Every bit of it seemed to disappear whenever you truly needed it. Things you had no business thinking rushed through your head, courtesy of your bright imagination that chose the most inconvenient moments to work. Thoughts you had suppressed and pushed aside every time they had the nerve to pop up swirled around.

The spark that you had been trying so hard to put out crackled to life in your core, its flames spreading all across your body like wildfire. You were painfully aware of every part of you that was in contact with him, his hand just above your waist, sitting there so possessively, his breath fanning across your neck– fuck. It was too much, but somehow not enough all at once, and immediately you knew what you wanted.

More.

You snapped.

Something possessed you as you turned to look at him, a surge of confidence appearing out of nowhere as you drew closer to him. “Yeah.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What?”

Right then and there, three things became very clear to you. One: You wanted to write. Desperately and preferably sometime soon, because you did want to finish the first draft before you could go in and edit. Two: For some reason, you needed to have sex in order to get over the mental block you had when it came to writing it. Lastly, three: You only wanted to have sex with one person, and it was the man right beside you.

“My frustration has everything to do with the sex scene.” You said, surprising yourself with how steady your voice was. “But you can help with that, right?”

Without waiting for his response, you got to your knees, swinging a leg over him and settling down on top. Surprise flickered in his eyes for a second as your hands found his shoulders to maintain your balance, before he spoke again.

“Pipsqueak,” he started, voice low and careful, attempting to keep the teasing lilt in his voice but royally failing. “What– exactly– are you doing?”

“You told me to ask.” You muttered, dropping your gaze to his lips for a moment before letting it travel back up. “You said you’d do it if I asked. I’m asking right now.”

Caleb couldn’t respond, still staring up at you, eyes wide and ears a little redder than they normally were. Good. It was about time he had a taste of his own medicine. His hands found your waist again, and he blinked twice, slowly, and you prayed he wasn’t all bark and no bite.

You wanted him to bite.

“Y/n,” he muttered, “I….I know what I said.”

You raised an eyebrow, your hands slipping up his shoulders simultaneously until they were cradling his neck, playing with his hair at the nape of it. Was he shy? Now? After everything he had said and insinuated, he had the audacity to be all bashful? “So then you know what I’m asking for.”

“Well–”

“Caleb,” You cut him off, shifting so that you were closer. “I’m asking.”

Conviction laced those words. You could tell he was reasoning with himself, god knows you could read him well enough to know when he was conflicted, when he bit the inside of his cheek before exhaling shakily.

“Pips,” He rasped out your nickname. “You– you’re sure?”

You didn’t recognise the look in his eyes right then as he looked up at you, but it had you unravelling all the same. You leaned in subconsciously, but he quickly moved one of his hands from your waist to your mouth, covering it as his jaw clenched, still studying you. “I need you to tell me you’re sure, Y/n.”

Oh, so this was actually happening. You could feel the heat of your breath recoil against your face because of his hand. The ticking of the clock in his room filled the charged silence between him and you, his fingers brushing against your chapped lips. You swallowed.

“I’m sure.”

Whatever had shifted in you five minutes ago seemed to shift in him as well now. He let his hand drop from your mouth, shamelessly staring at it. “We shouldn’t.” But he pulled you closer, his arms circling your waist and palms splayed out on the small of your back.

“It’s for research purposes,” You breathed out, doing your best to justify how badly you needed him. “Please, Caleb, I need–”

He didn’t let you finish.

You gasped as he crushed his mouth to yours, effectively shutting you up. The pressure of his lips against your own was dizzying, especially with the way they moved; slowly and precisely, as if he was committing the feel of your lips to his memory. You were hyperaware of his touch on your back, the warmth from his hands permeating through the thin fabric of the T-shirt you were wearing.

Pulling him closer, you tilted your head so you could kiss him better. For the number of times you had mentally chided yourself for even thinking about this, it felt remarkably natural to kiss him, your instincts taking over. Your fingers slipped into his hair, entangling in the dark strands and tugging lightly.

Caleb groaned, and you were on fire.

“God, Y/n.” There was nothing playful about the way he mumbled your name into the kiss, and the unfamiliarity of it sent a shiver down your spine. His lips, soft and just a little hesitant, moved in tandem against your own, slotting in between them perfectly like you were pieces of the same puzzle, meant to be pushed together like so. He nipped at your lower lip before swiping his tongue over it to soothe the sting, and the intoxicating sensation drew out a needy whimper from you.

The second that sound escaped you, all indecision disappeared from his end, and the temperature in the room seemed to increase, growing hotter with every smack of his lips against yours. Kissing him was addictive, it felt as if neither of you could bear to pull away from each other.

Without warning, Caleb lifted you off of him and pressed you into the mattress, swiftly climbing on top of you. For a moment, he hovered, looking down at you, taking in the flush on your cheeks and heavy breathing, proud to have been the cause of your breathlessness despite barely doing a thing. Going in once again, he brushed his lips against yours teasingly, before giving you what you truly wanted, the intensity of the kiss taking a turn for feverish.

A hand of his slid up your side until he cupped your jaw oh-so gently, turning your face to the side to give him better access to your neck, upon which he pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses that had heat rush right to your core. The ache between your legs grew, slowly becoming unbearable, and you rubbed your thighs together with a whine, chasing any sliver of friction.

“Shit,” he muttered against you, his other hand slipping underneath your shirt and coming into contact with your stomach, causing goosebumps to rise on the skin. Spreading his fingers and pressing lightly, he kept you from squirming. “Pips, you gotta tell me to stop.”

“Don’t you dare,” you almost snapped at him, impatient and so painfully aroused it was embarrassing. He couldn’t hold back the breathless chuckle that escaped him as he moved lower, teeth grazing your collarbone.

“If, at any point, you want to stop, tell me,” he gritted out, trying to hold onto any semblance of self-control he still possessed. “I don’t wanna do anything you’re uncomfortable with.”

You nodded quickly. “I trust you.”

That was all he needed. Lifting his head slightly, he fumbled with the buttons of your shorts as he leaned back, all his weight on his knees. Once he managed to undo them, you lifted your hips slightly to help him tug them off your body. He settled between your legs, spreading them until the pretty cotton panties you wore were exposed.

Caleb swallowed, his breathing growing erratic and heavy. The wet patch on your panties was his undoing; everything about this situation was bound to be the death of him, but he was too far gone now. He let his hand trace up to your hips, hooking his finger through the waistband of your panties, toying with it.

“Is this ok?” The column of his throat bobbed as he stared up at you from between your legs. When you whispered a needy yes, he pulled the panties down your legs, his eyes darkening the moment they settled back on your core.

“Y/n,” He said your name like he was drunk, a certain sense of reverence infused in his tone that had your cheeks kissed rouge. “You’re even prettier than I thought.”

Than he thought? You would have to take the time to dissect that statement later, much too distracted to do so at the moment when he began peppering kisses along your inner thigh, starting from your knee and working his way upwards. The sensation of his mouth tantalisingly close to where you wanted it so badly was almost too much. Just the sight of him there was so erotic that it had your head swimming. You had never felt more vulnerable than you did right then, exposed and willing.

And then finally– finally– his breath fanned out over your soaked cunt, driving you insane. Liquid fire thrummed in your veins beneath the surface of your skin as your anticipation spilled over. He pressed a light, teasing kiss against your clit.

Caleb dragged his tongue over your slit, licking up it all the way to your clit, which he wrapped his lips around and sucked, knocking all the air out of your lungs. You gasped, bucking your hips up against him, and he chuckled, the sound sending vibrations up your body, from your toes to the top of your head.

“Impatient,” he chided. “Let me take my time with you, princess.”

The new pet name sounded so natural coming from him, and immediately, you knew you wanted to hear him call you that again. He flicked his tongue against the throbbing bud that had been aching for his attention this entire time, positioning your legs to rest over his shoulders. The sounds that left you were shamefully loud, and you had never been more grateful that he lived in a single dorm.

“Cal- oh fuck,” You mewled when he swiped two of his fingers through your wetness, rubbing your folds.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he all but groaned against you, and you could feel more slick gush out of you at that. “Is this all for me?”

Your back arched off the bed when he pressed a finger to your dripping entrance, nodding with a sense of desperation you had never experienced before. “Yes,” you exhaled the word as he pushed his finger inside your pussy slowly, your jaw falling open at the pleasurable intrusion.

Slowly, he began pumping it in and out of you as he continued to give your clit the sweet attention it deserved, basking in the noises that you made. The pads of the fingers of his other hand dug into the flesh of your thigh, keeping you nice and spread out despite all your attempts to shut your legs around him.

When he introduced a second finger to your cunt, your hands found purchace in his hair, gripping and tugging as you panted, unable to focus on anything else. Your eyes fluttered shut as the tips of his fingers brushed against a spot that had you seeing stars, crooking inside you so perfectly. It was as if he knew exactly how to push you to the edge.

Your best friend was eating you out like a starved man and you were enjoying every fucking second of it. He could feel your legs begin to tremble, your impending orgasm building. Shamelessly, you bucked your hips against his face, and the moment he realised what you were doing, he increased the pace of his fingers.

“Come on baby,” he encouraged you, flattening his tongue against your clit and pulling you closer, spurring you on even further. You ground against his mouth desperately, feeling the coil in your core draw tight, so, so close.

“Caleb,” you stuttered his name helplessly, but he somehow understood, knowing just what you needed. “I–I’m gonna–”

He scissored his fingers inside of you, hooking them just right as he gave your clit little kitten licks, determined to have you fall apart on his tongue. Your sweet gasps sent blood rushing straight to his cock, which was already painfully hard, confined in his jeans. Taking your mound into his mouth, he sucked harshly, thrusting his fingers knuckle deep in your sex.

A broken moan escaped you when your climax hit you, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as waves of pleasure washed over you. Your legs shook, but he didn’t let up, grinning proudly against you as he drove his fingers back into your gushing entrance, helping you ride out your high and prolonging it. Once he was satisfied, he lapped at you, refusing to waste even a single drop of your essence.

Caleb pulled away, and the sight of you nearly did him in. Eyes screwed shut in ecstacy and hair fanned out on his pillow, undoubtedly tangled from all your writhing. You looked like the picture of sin, and it was the hottest thing he had ever seen. He climbed back, hovering over you again as he licked his lips.

Your eyes fluttered open, pupils blown out and dark due to the sheer level of desire that coursed through you. You were stunning, and he was destroyed, knowing that he’d never be able to forget the way you were looking at him right then. The way you tasted.

When he kissed you again, it was different. It was a heady mix of heat and tongue and want, messier than the kisses he gave you earlier, the control he had before nowhere to be seen anymore. You could taste yourself on his tongue and moaned, reaching out to touch him.

You started at his collar, dragging your hands down, down, down until you reached the hem of his shirt, whining against his mouth as you tugged at it.

“Take it off.”

Who was he to deny you? He stopped kissing you, sitting up so that he could pull the shirt off, exposing his torso for you. The way your eyes raked over him hungrily was more than gratifying, especially when they caught on the silver chain that hung from his neck, the pendant sitting on his chest. Tossing his shirt to the side, he pushed your own up your body, exposing the skin of your stomach.

“Your turn.”

You let him take off your shirt, tossing it to the side and slipping his hands slip behind your back. He silently asked for your permission, which you gave to him in the form of an impatient nod to which he smirked, unhooking your bra and peeling it off of you, letting the discarded garment join the rest of them on the floor.

One look at you and he was a goner.

“Fuck,” he could feel himself straining his jeans as he took in the sight of your breasts, so perfect and plush. He allowed himself a moment to appreciate you in all your naked glory, before leaning back down, his mouth back on your overheated skin. He dragged his tongue down your neck, sucking and biting like there was no tomorrow.

His lips trailed downwards, kissing the swell of your breast before wrapping around your already hard nipple, stroking his tongue against the aching peak. He palmed the other breast, giving that nipple equal amounts of attention and rolling it under his thumb. You hissed in pleasure, breathless as you arched into his addictive touch.

You could barely think straight; everything he was doing to you sent you into complete overdrive. Every touch was criminally good, the simplest of them causing your arousal to increase tenfold. Perhaps it was because it had been so long since you had last had sex, but you had never before felt so frenzied.

Hooking your legs around his waist, you could feel the outline of him pressing against your thighs. Angling your hips, you pressed your bare pussy against his bulge, the roughness of the denim rubbing you just right. He looked up at you from your chest through hooded eyes, earning another whimper as he pinched your nipple.

“You sound so good.” His words went straight to your head. “Tell me what you want.”

He said it like it was a command, and who were you to disobey, especially when you knew exactly what you wanted?

“I want you inside me,” you whimpered, voice heated with lust.

How could he ever refuse you? Caleb gave you one last kiss before reaching over to his bedside table, grabbing something from the drawer and sitting up and unzipping his pants. You couldn’t help but stare as he impatiently kicked off his jeans and boxers, eyes widening when you finally saw his cock.

Fuck, it was big. Long and painfully hard, you could hardly believe he was hard because of you, but the proof was in front of your very eyes. Your lower lip caught between your teeth as you drank in the sight of him, hyperaware of the wetness that coated your thighs.

He tore open the condom packet, smoothly sliding it onto himself before settling between your legs once.

“W-will it even fit?” You squeaked, a spike of fear cutting through the lust-filled haze of your mind. He grabbed one of your hands, bringing it to his lips and pressing your fingers to them, kissing your knuckles soothingly as he bit back a smile.

“It’ll fit.”

“But– there's no way,” You spluttered, “It’s gonna hurt.” Not that the prospect of being in a little pain deterred you by any means, you were way too horny to stop now. Complaining was probably the least sexy thing you could have done in the moment, but he seemed unbothered, the dark, hungry glint in his eyes never fading. The amused look on his face, however, was not lost on you, nor was the way he bit the inside of his cheek, fighting a smile. You glared weakly.

“Are you laughing at me?” You asked, incredulous. “I swear to god, Caleb, you’re going to split me in half, and you’re laughing?”

“Baby,” He breathed, “You’ll be fine.”

“Easy for you to say!”

You wouldn’t even blame him if he decided he was done with you and pulled his pants back on, but nothing of the sort happened. Instead, he gripped your hips, grounding you to the moment.

Both of you were completely nude, and despite this, you had never felt more comfortable. Not when he looked at you like that, like you were something sacred.

“Relax, Pips, I’ve got you,” He whispered, sensing your apprehension. You exhaled shakily as he pressed his hard-on against your folds, groaning at just how wet you were. “Eyes on me.”

The way he took control so naturally was alarmingly attractive. You looked up, locking your eyes with his, unable to stay silent when the head of his cock rubbed against your swollen clit. “O-oh.”

He shuddered at the feeling, dropping a little so that he was keeping himself up on his elbows. His necklace swung above you just like you had imagined as he ground against you, but it still wasn’t enough. “Ready?”

You didn’t think you’d ever be ready, but you wanted it so badly you didn’t even care. Nodding eagerly, you intertwined your fingers with his, letting him press the back of your hands into the mattress. When his tip caught at your entrance, you whined. “Please.”

Having you beg him like that was dangerous. He squeezed your hands, and then slowly, carefully, sank into your wet heat, inch by devastating inch. Your jaw slackened, loudly moaning his name as he filled you up and stretched you out so pleasurably. His eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he pushed into you until he bottomed out, going breathless himself. One glance down to where the two of you were connected had him actively having to fight off coming right then and there.

Caleb was in heaven, and he was fucking delirious. He forced himself to stay still, moaning lowly when he felt your walls flutter around him, adjusting to his size. “You’re doing so well, princess.” He praised, lowering his head to your neck and burying his face in the crook of it, inhaling deeply in an attempt to calm himself down.

There was so much wrong with this, so why did it feel so right? You felt so perfect, like you were made for him.

“Caleb,” You whimpered once the sting faded, letting go of his hands and looping your arms around his neck, “Move. I need you to move.”

He pulled out until only his tip remained inside of you, before sheathing himself again, causing you to curve off the bed, nails digging into his skin. He did it again and again, nearly growling when he felt you grow even wetter, coating the length of his cock in your slick. Wet sounds that had your cheeks burning filled the room repeatedly.

“Fuck baby, you’re so tight,” He practically growled, contrasting the tender pace he set, telling you he was holding back for your sake. You could feel every inch of him as he dragged against your walls, reminding you how big he was with every thrust.

Your friendship was potentially ruined, but it felt too good for you to care. With your legs locked behind his back, you gripped his biceps, a wanton moan escaping you as your eyes fluttered shut, the pleasure overriding every other sensation.

“So good,” words were hard to put together, and he understood and nodded, holding your hips so tight you were sure there would be marks, just like the marks that blossomed all over your neck and chest from his earlier ministrations. Right now, though, you didn’t care about that, consumed by the waves of euphoria rushing through you.

Slowly, the frequency of his thrusts increased, rendering you completely winded and unable to do anything but gasp for air. You felt another orgasm steadily build up inside you.

Then he tipped his hips a certain way, the tip of his cock brushing against a spot that made you cry out his name, throwing your head back into his pillows. The look on your face was something he wanted to imprint in his memory; the desire lacing your voice was beyond exhilarating.

Caleb could feel his own impending high, so tightly wound because of just how long he had waited for something like this. When you clenched around him, he knew you were close as well, but the act nearly did him in.

“Don’t do that.” his voice was all scratchy and strained, but you promptly did it once again, high off the notion that you were affecting him just as much as he was affecting you. His hips stuttered against yours as his violet eyes flashed. “Fucking hell.”

“Oh my god,” you moaned, “I can’t–”

“Look at me,” he demanded, “I want you to look at me when you come all over my cock.”

Never in a million years would you have thought your best friend would be so good at dirty talk, but the shock quickly melted into obedience as you managed to hold his heated gaze. Reaching between the two of you, his index finger found your engorged clit and rubbed circles against it.

You squealed, overly sensitive. “Shit–I’m gonna– Cal-!”

“Come for me.”

Caleb would never forget how you looked: at his mercy, crying out his name over and over like it was a prayer as you came, spilling over his cock with a euphoric sob. He snapped his hips to yours with renewed urgency, drawing out your second climax and prolonging the feeling. When he saw the fucked out look on your face, it hit him at once.

With one final thrust, he buried himself inside you, coming with a moan, burying his face in your neck once again. His body was damp against yours, his hair tickling you as you breathed heavily. He stayed like that for a couple of seconds, recovering from the intensity of what had just happened.

Wordlessly, he pulled out of you gently, the sudden emptiness you felt having you whimper softly. Peeling the condom off, he tossed it in the bin next to his bed before climbing off of you, muttering something about being back. Seconds later, you felt a warm, wet cloth drag over your core. He cleaned you up, pressing little kisses to the inner side of your thighs.

Once he was done, he gathered you in his arms and pulled you close, kissing your temple.

“Are you okay?” He asked, pulling away just enough so he could try and gauge how you felt, rubbing his thumb over your cheekbone as he cupped your face tenderly. “I didn’t hurt you, right?”

You shook your head and leaned into his touch, completely spent. “No, it was perfect.”

He sighed in relief. You curled into him, and he wrapped his arms around you. “You did so well,” he murmured into your hair, massaging your scalp gently. “You were amazing, actually.” Another kiss to your forehead made you simper as your eyes closed, exhaustion settling into you now that the adrenaline had faded. “Tired?”

“Yeah,” You mumbled. Your legs entangled with his, and he stopped talking, tracing shapes on your back while you drifted off to sleep. He watched you for a bit, savouring the skin-on-skin contact, his mind reeling from what had just happened.

This was strangely normal, no awkwardness or post-nut clarity hitting either of you. Your body lay against his with all of you pressed up against him like that was exactly where you belonged. He could feel the beating of your heart, strong and steady in your slumber, whereas his remained erratic and fast. This was more than just a taste that he had had of you; it was the entire deal, and the knowledge of it all had his morals scattered and all over the place, because now that he knew what he knew, well.

Caleb wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop.

It was supposed to be a one-time thing.

At the time, you had justified sleeping with Caleb as research, something you needed to do in order to get it out of your system. You had assumed, albeit foolishly, that once it was over, you’d be able to go back to normal and continue with your life.

But research was an activity that required constant revisiting. Most of it had to be repeated over and over, especially if it included gathering data from an experiment. There was always a control, and then variations of the experiment would be conducted to record the differences in the outcomes.

At least, that was what you were telling yourself right now as you straddled him, his cock buried inside you.

Truthfully, you didn’t know how this had happened. After that day, everything seemed to be normal, until he showed up at your dorm to help you study for a class he had also taken when he was in his sophomore year. One thing led to another, or rather, one heated touch later, you found yourself under him once again.

And then it happened again, and kept happening. Whispers of it being just for research mixed in with both of your moans became a melody you were more than used to. This was all for your book, after all. For the sake of accuracy and your integrity as a writer.

Definitely not because of how mindblowing sex with Caleb was.

And it absolutely was.

He had made you completely insatiable for him, and almost every time the two of you hung out in one of your dorms, it ended up with both of you in bed. Every other aspect of your friendship remained exactly the same, though, which left you considerably confused. He didn’t look at or treat you any differently, poking fun and driving you up the wall, staying his usual reliable self.

Caleb’s hand cradled the back of your head as he kissed you now, fingers entangled in your hair and pulling slightly. You moaned softly against his lips, grinding on him.

You were in one of his shirts, panties tugged to the side since he hadn’t had the patience to take them off, needing to be inside of you as quickly as possible. Despite his earlier hurriedness, the pace the two of you settled on now was almost teasing, slowly rocking against him as you lazily chased the delicious high that you had gotten so used to experiencing these past two weeks.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he muttered, more to himself than you, hand slipping under your shirt and cupping your breast, squeezing. When he caught you biting your lip, he tutted, letting go of your hair and using his thumb to release it from your teeth. “Ah, ah, don’t do that, you’ll hurt yourself, pretty girl.”

“Too good,” you complained in that whiney, desperate tone he had gotten so addicted to. Pinching your nipple for good measure, he smirked up at you when you squealed.

Caleb quickly learned that he loved having you on top of him. Getting you all to himself like this was a privilege in itself, but fucking you while you wore his shirt? He was on cloud nine. He could feel himself throb in your sweet pussy that welcomed him so eagerly, in turn pulsing around him.

He cursed under his breath when you started to bounce, eager to get to the finish line with him. He sounded so good when he swore, you’d never understand it, just like how you wouldn’t get how he looked so pretty with a flush decorating his face and sex-mussed hair.

Gripping his shoulders, you tipped your head back, giving him access to your neck. He had taken to marking you up as and when he pleased, new hickeys surprising you every time you glanced in the mirror. Despite his tendency to leave them in places everyone could very easily spot them, you didn’t tell him to stop simply it just felt so good.

Everything with Caleb felt good, and not only did it feel good, but you felt completely safe. He was so attentive, doing the most to make sure you were never in any pain, often times focusing more on getting you off rather than himself.

He thrust up into you suddenly, his earlier impatience returning, and you cried out, falling into his chest. He held you, working you through it and dragging you closer and closer to release. One of your hands fell to his torso, tracing the hard lines of his abs and trailing downwards before your fingers found your clit and rubbed.

Shit. If having you ride him was good, being able to watch you touch yourself as you did was unbelievable. When you came, you came hard, and the feeling of it tipped him over the edge.

You were a dream he never wanted to wake up from.

You didn’t bother moving, clinging to him even tighter like you couldn’t bear to not be touching him in some way as you came down from your high. He smelled like sex, sweat, and that cologne of his that you loved. It was the reason you stole his clothes so much and why you were wearing his shirt even now.

Your first time with Caleb was the getaway drug, and now you were addicted to him, to having his hands caressing you all over and him whispering praises in your ear.

“Hey there,” He chuckled, rubbing your back. “All good?”

“Great even,” You mumbled, sitting up properly before finally lifting yourself off of him. You failed to register how jelly-like your legs felt, promptly losing your balance. He caught you before you fell, grinning.

“Can’t walk?” You could hear how smug he was without even having to look at him. It was then that you registered the burn in your thighs and huffed.

“Don’t sound so proud about it.”

“You’re no fun,” he pouted, leaving you to scoff as he helped you to your feet, following suit. “I’ll help you clean up. Do you wanna watch the new episode after?”

Ah yes. Of course, he’d start talking about anime after taking away your ability to stand. That had been the reason he had shown up at your dorm in the first place, but the moment he saw you wearing his shirt, it had quickly become an afterthought.

The whiplash you felt was indescribable, and you could only nod, letting him pick you up and carry you to the bathroom. After a quick shower and change of clothes, the two of you settled down with your laptop like nothing had happened, your head resting on his shoulder as you focused on the show.

Neither of you bothered to talk about your redefined friendship despite having sex regularly. It was just….a new addition. A benefit that you were both taking advantage of, nothing more and nothing less.

But even as you reminded yourself of that now, you found yourself doubting it.

There was something to be said about formal events.

You enjoyed getting dolled up as much as the next girl, but that was where the fun ended. Having to sit through the event was boring and not the way you liked to spend your Friday evenings. You would have much preferred staying in and catching up on some much-needed sleep.

The editor of your university’s paper, Jenna, had organised an affair that was being held in one of the college halls. She had worked very hard on it, inviting several alumni who were all successful in the fields of journalism and writing back so that the current batch of students had the chance to make connections. It was open to the entire student body, but she had made it clear that everyone on the paper was obligated to attend.

Connections were what helped people get further in life. You were grateful for the opportunity to interact with industry professionals, but didn’t understand why she had insisted on keeping it a black tie affair. That probably had something to do with keeping up appearances.

You stood off to the side, sipping on your cranberry juice from a cup that was made for something much more refined. So far, you had spoken to a couple of the guests, but seeing that you had been here for over an hour already, your social battery was slowly dying out. The dress you wore was a black number, floor length, form-fitting and plain except for the slit that reached up to a little above your knee. Perfect for an event like this, not too much and on power with what everyone else was wearing.

Still, it was a little overstimulating. You guzzled down the rest of your juice and placed the empty glass down on one of the tables.

“You’re welcome, by the way.”

You spun on your heels immediately at that voice, eyes widening and settling on the culprit who stood two, maybe three steps away from you.

“Caleb?” You asked in disbelief, taking in his presence. He was wearing a suit.

“The one and only,” he grinned, his hands stuffed in his pockets. “Here to rescue you from your boredom.”

“What are you even doing here?” To say this wasn’t his scene would be an understatement. He didn’t like wearing the whole suit getup, much preferring casual clothing. Hell, Caleb hadn’t even attended his high school prom (though when you asked why, he would never give you a straight answer), opting to spend the night in with you instead.

He looked unfairly good. The collar of his shirt hid those lovely collarbones of his and reminded you of how you had bit down on them the other day, the bottom of it tucked into black slacks. He had even worn dress shoes, instead of the sneakers he so loved and a tie around his neck. The entire getup.

“I literally just told you why. To get you out of here. Are you hard of hearing now?”

You returned his jibe with an exasperated sound. “I meant here, at this thing.”

“Oh. Well, you did mention it was open to anyone yesterday,” he shrugged, grabbing a glass of juice and sipping on it. “So that editor of yours technically can’t complain about me being here.”

That was true. Still, you found yourself bewildered as you stared at him. He was here. For some reason, even though he was allowed to be here, it didn’t make sense to you. You pressed your lips together and cocked your head to the side, studying him.

“So you dressed up and came here.…only to convince me to leave?” The notion sounded strange even to you. Why on earth would he do that? He finished up his drink and put it down next to your empty glass, taking a step closer to you. The simple movement had butterflies erupt in the pits of your stomach.

What the hell?

“Stop thinking so much. Do you want to stay?”

You considered it. “Not really, no.”

“Do you enjoy arguing with me for no reason, woman?” he muttered dryly under his breath, his eyes catching on something over your head. “On second thought, I think you should stay a little longer.”

Now you were just plain confused. One moment he was talking about saving you from boredom, and the next he was insisting you stay? Before you could undoubtedly start another argument just to spite him, he took you by your shoulders and spun you around, pointing in a certain direction. When you figured out what, or rather, who he was gesturing to, you couldn’t hide your gasp.

“Isn’t that the author you like?”

You could only nod dumbly. “Raymond.” Last year, you had a phase where you only read his books day in and day out, absorbing the stories he spun like a sponge. His books were the reason you had decided to start writing your own in the first place, inspired by his storytelling skills.

Caleb nudged your side gently, “Go.”

“How–” you cut yourself off, looking up at him. “How do you even remember that?” You weren’t sure why this entire interaction with him was throwing you off so much, but you felt completely unbalanced. You hadn’t spoken about Raymond or his work in a long time, so how did he know? He shrugged noncommittally.

“I know you.” He said it so plainly, like it was something trivial and basic, but his eyes bored into yours.

Had Caleb always looked at you with such quiet intensity?

He nudged your side gently, reminding you to move. Forcing yourself out of your stupor, you promised him you wouldn’t take too much time and walked over, buzzing with excitement.

The conversation itself wasn’t long, but it was insightful. He answered all your questions about the industry, and you even had the chance to share for appreciation for Raymond's work as well as ask him questions that you had about his novels. You gave him your utmost attention when he gave you advice, but when he started talking about his characters, your eyes and mind wandered.

Back to your best friend, who was waiting for you on the other end of the hall, leaning against one of the walls and scrolling through his phone. He didn’t give a flying fuck about this event, but had still come here for your sake, even when you hadn’t asked him to. He glanced up, his eyes meeting yours, and flashing you a small smile.

Oh.

You looked away and back at Raymond, nodding politely and tuning yourself back into the conversation. Internally, however, you were freaking out. Something was very wrong; that was the only reason you could conjure up at the moment for what was happening to you. How else could you explain the sudden sweatiness of your palms, or the odd, fluttery feeling in your stomach? Maybe it was the excitement you felt from meeting the author you loved so much, but even as you considered this possibility, you knew it wasn’t the answer you were looking for.

Oh.

Oh fuck.

This could not be happening. You plastered a smile on your face as you tried to pay attention to whatever Raymond was talking about, but the damage was done. Your brain had never been one to let go of a single thought you had, especially ones that had to do with Caleb. He had a hold on you that no one else did, and why was that?

Because you liked Caleb.

The horrifying realisation hit you, startling you out of your rapidly spiralling thought process. Blinking, you realised Raymond was done speaking.

“Thank you so much for your time,” You said, trying not to sound as troubled as you felt. The author smiled at you before turning to another student.

Swallowing the newfound lump in your throat, you turned around and walked back to Caleb. This was bad. Having sex with him was already vaguely immoral and probably something that shouldn’t have happened– and shouldn’t keep happening like it did– but having feelings for him? That was out of the question.

“Good talk?” He asked, slipping his phone into his pocket. The genuine interest he had in your excitement made the entire situation worse. Why were you noticing all this now, of all times? It wasn’t like he had suddenly turned into someone considerate. He had always been this way; it was written into his DNA.

You realised he had even tried to tame his hair for today. “It was great.”

“I’m glad. Now I can steal you away from this place.” His eyes were lit up with mischief, just like they did when the two of you were younger and he did something he wasn’t supposed to. Ever the rebel, this one.

You felt a little guilty. All this effort for you? It seemed completely useless. “Okay, but Caleb, seriously, you didn’t have to do this.”

He frowned. “Didn’t have to do what?”

“This!” You waved in his general direction and then gestured around. “I mean, you don’t even like wearing a suit, but here you are. It’s not like it's compulsory for you like it is for me. You could be doing anything else.” You were rambling, you knew, but it was hard to stop. He rolled his eyes.

“Has that stopped me before?”

You paused. “What do you mean?”

“I show up to your newsroom even though I’m sure Jenna wants to castrate me for breaking the rules so much.” He raised an eyebrow. “I attended that lecture of yours when you had a presentation. You know I’m here because I want to be.” You knew he said stuff like this all the time, you always were the recipient of his support. This was normal.

But it didn’t feel normal. For fucks sake, this was the boy you had grown up with. He had seen you fall off your bike, fail tests and puke your guts out when drunk. In each of those situations, he had also been the one to pick you up and bandage your wounds, help you study and hold your hair back for you.

Did he think it was an obligation now?

“You….you shouldn’t feel like you have to do that.” You said slowly, but he didn’t let you continue.

“Oh, please. Everyone knows that where you go, I go too.” He flicked your forehead, immediately receiving a glare in return. “We’re like…….” He stopped for a moment, eyebrows furrowing and lips pursing like they always did when he was thinking hard about something. Then he snapped his fingers. “We’re like those yoghurt-granola snack packs!”

You stared at him blankly. “What?”

“You know.” He decided to explain his stupid analogy, as if your head wasn’t muddled enough. “Those things you can buy at the grocery store. The small yoghurt tubs that have a container filled with granola on top of them? Like, they’re both okay separately, but much better when together. People buy those packs for a reason.” He slipped his phone back into his pockets and beamed at you. “We’re like that.”

Oh my god. That barely made any sense. You weren’t sure if you were mortified because of that terrible explanation or because it hadn’t put a damper on your newfound feelings for him. “You’re such a fucking dork.”

He feigned offence, holding his hand over his heart. “Excuse me? You mean cute, right?”

Right. Wait, no, you didn’t. Ugh. “I thinkx ridiculous.”

“Are you coming with me or not, Pips?”

“But Jenna insisted-”

He rubbed a hand over his face in annoyance before fixing you with a droll look. “Would you rather be here or be with me?”

Be with you.

You ignored the way your stomach flipped. You didn’t have the time or the mental stability to process everything that was happening to you right now. The logical part of your brain swooped in, telling you that you were just confused because of the sex. Yes, that was it. You did not have feelings for Caleb Xia.

Sighing, you relented. “You.” Saying that didn’t mean anything, after all. Nothing about the two of you meant anything, so there was no reason for you to be freaking out, even if it sounded like you had just confessed. A wide grin made a show on his face when he realised he had won, and he tilted his head towards the exit.

“Finally. Wanna get out of here?”

“Just to be clear, this is not what I meant when I asked if you wanted to get out of there.”

You huffed out a soft laugh, fingers curling around his tie as you tugged him closer. “No? Could have sworn you planned for us to end up in a janitor's closet.”

Caleb bit back a laugh of his own, knowing that making too much noise would get both of you in trouble. After leaving the event, somehow, his guiding hand on your hip had turned into the two of you making out in the hallway. You blamed the mess that your head was in for not realising what a bad idea that was immediately, but once you did, you did the most responsible thing you could think of.

And dragged him into the janitor's closet that was close by.

Naturally.

He braced a hand over your head on the cabinet that you were leaning against, essentially caging you in as he dipped his head to kiss you again. “Pretty sure that was you’re doing.”

“Excuse me? You’re the one who kissed me first!” You protested against his mouth, but could hardly complain when he kissed you like it was a relief to do so. Honestly, he was probably the best kisser you had ever experienced.

That must have been the reason for your spiralling thoughts. That and the amazing sex that you were so weak to.

Yep. That’s all. Anyone could be susceptible to such things.

“Can you blame me? Have you seen yourself in this dress?” His free hand slipped into the slit at your knee, slowly dragging the rest of the dress up until it was bunched up around your waist. “You’re stunning.”

He couldn’t stop kissing you. He knew he shouldn’t have kissed you out there like he had the right to, because he was well aware of the unspoken rules of this arrangement, but he couldn’t help it. If getting too comfortable with whatever you had going on with him was a crime, a sin, then he was a criminal of the highest order. The worst part? He didn’t feel a shred of guilt.

But you were wearing that fucking cherry lip gloss, and god knnows he had waited long enough to taste it.

Warmth spread over your chest first before it rushed to the apex between your legs. The control he seemed to have over your body was truly astounding. In his hands, you were putty.

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” You whispered back, loosening the knot of his tie and pulling it off completely, dropping it to the side. “This suits you.”

His lips twitched. “The suit suits me?”

“Shut up and kiss me, loser.”

He complied, grinning against your mouth as he pulled you into another earth-shattering kiss that did positively nothing to soothe your frayed nerves. Stubbornly, you pushed down the feelings bubbling around the confines of your heart, refusing to give them any attention if you could help it.

You gripped the front of his suit jacket, helping him peel it off his shoulders and letting it join his tie on the floor. Without warning, he pressed a knee in between your legs, and you nearly melted against him.

Sex was great. Sex with him was phenomenal. This was just the lust getting to you.

Caleb gripped the leg that your slit now exposed and lifted it, propping it up against his waist. He trailed his fingers against your inner thigh, his touch feather-light yet scorching at the same time. When his index and middle finger pressed against your clothed cunt, you were glad for the hot he had on you, pressed up against the cabinet, because you would have surely buckled if not.

“Wow,” he mumbled amusedly, pushing your panties to the side and teasing your wetness. “You really like the suit, huh?”

The fact that this type of interaction was now commonplace should have been the first sign that things had gone too far.

Usually, you couldn’t think straight when he touched you like this, but today it was all a mix of feeling way too much and dangerous, fleeting thoughts that made you want to tear your hair out.

“Maybe,” You peppered kisses along the column of his throat, determined to get out of your head and focus only on how good he could make you feel. Pleasure and person were entirely separate entities, and you would make sure it stayed that way.

“Suit kink.”

“Never say that again.”

He only smirked, plunging his fingers into you. All you could do was cry out as you gripped the front of his shirt, momentarily forgetting that you were supposed to be quiet. Quickly, his palm covered your mouth, muffling any further sounds you could make. “Can’t have you being loud here, princess. What if someone catches us?”

The way you practically gushed the moment he suggested someone catch you in such a compromising position was downright embarrassing. Raising an eyebrow, he leaned even lower and whispered. “Oh? You like that?”

You whined against his hand, cheeks flushing furiously. You began fiddling with the top buttons of his shirt, and he chuckled lowly.

“For someone who likes my suit so much, you sure are trying to get rid of it quickly.”

“For someone who was dying to kiss me two minutes ago, you talk too much.” You rocked your hips against his hand even as you sassed him back. He moved his hand from your mouth into your hair, carding it through gently, tugging slightly to tilt your head back for him so he could kiss you again, swallowing every sound you made.

No one could sue you for being attracted to a hot man. That was just biology.

You could feel the familiar tightening of your core, signalling your impending crash. You broke away from the kiss, licked your lips and palmed him over his pants, earning a hiss of pleasure in return.

“Don’t– don’t do that,” He choked out, and you smirked triumphantly, refusing to relent on your movements. Batting your eyelashes, you stared up at him through them in faux innocence, unaware that it affected him so much more than you thought.

“Just fuck me already.” You whined, half out of desperation for him and party because now you needed him to fuck you to prove to yourself that this was just sex. To be able to brush away all the compliments he dropped that seemed to go straight to your head, to get the intoxicaing fucking way he kissed you out of your head and away from further dissection. To stop the slow-burning feeling of yearning that was growing inside of you for the boy you had grown up with.

Because you couldn’t possibly have feelings for him. You shouldn’t.

“Fuck, okay,” He slipped his fingers out of you and unbuttoned his pants, releasing his cock. You would never get used to the sight of it, precum already leaking out of the tip; the image itself sending shivers down your spine in anticipation of him.

He pressed back against you, grinding it against your fluttering pussy, going right back to making out with you. It was like he was devouring you whole, claiming every part of you like it had always belonged to him. You could feel yourself get carried away again, forgetting that this was just something he and you did now.

And then he froze.

“Shit,” he muttered. “I don’t have a condom.”

You were too far gone to even care anymore. Cupping his face, you pulled him into another messy kiss, beyond delighted when he moaned, still rubbing his length through your slick folds with a want that rivalled your own. “Put it in.”

Caleb gritted his teeth. “Pips, thats–”

“I’m on birth control,” you kissed his jaw. “And I trust you. I’ve always trusted you.”

That was undeniably the truth. He was the one person in the world that you didn’t have to think twice about when it came to anything, no matter what the situation. He blinked down at you, pupils blown wide with desire but somehow still so focused on you, holding your sides so gently as he hesitated, silently dealing with the conflict in his head.

“I…..are you sure?”

Oh, this sweet, considerate boy. How could you not love him? The thought was instantly forced to be a passing one as you push it away, refusing to acknowledge it.

“Caleb, if you don’t stick your dick inside of me right now, I will cut it off.” The threat earned you a winded chuckle from his end, the strain in his face from holding back so painfully evident. Realising he needed another push, you looked into his eyes, bucking your hips against him and licking your lips as you purred. “Now, fuck me.”

There was a reason you phrased it like that. Crude and so filthy, the words set out a challenge for him. If there was one thing you knew about Caleb, it was that he could never back down from a challenge. His eyes darkened as he grabbed both your wrists and pinned them together above your head with one hand, positioning his cock at your entrance.

Without another warning, he slammed into you, once again covering your mouth to soften the obscenely loud broken moan that left you. He pressed his fingers against your lips, smirking mischievously.

“This is what you wanted, hmm?” He groaned in your ear as he fucked you hard, making it increasingly difficult for you to stay silent. You knew he was doing it on purpose, remembering how he had briefly confessed that he liked it when you were vocal, but here? Here it was risky and stupid, and you couldn’t believe how into it you were.

“Yes,” You gasped, biting his hand at a particularly hard thrust, doing your utmost best to keep all your noises to a minimum. He was just so good, and the feeling of him bare inside of you was almost too much for you.

“God baby, you feel incredible,” he panted, never relenting on his pace for even a second. His breathing was heavy in your ear, almost pained, along with soft grunts that only succeeded in making you even wetter.

“So b-big,” you could only whimper, too caught up in it all to speak properly.

He had well and truly ruined you for anyone else. Your heart and mind were at war with each other, but your body was perfectly content with how he held you like this. With nothing between you, he fucked you raw, and it felt so much more intimate than you thought it would have. You could feel everything, hyperaware of every touch and kiss and overwhelming drag of his cock in your sobbing cunt.

For a moment, you almost wished it wasn’t this good. If only you had never succumbed to your desires that day, maybe you wouldn’t have found yourself in this position, fighting so desperately against feelings that felt so wrong and right at the same time. All this was supposed to have been a temporary fix, a means to an end. Not the start of something you could never see through.

When both of you came, it was intense and devastating, holding onto each other like nothing else mattered. You could feel him fill you up with his cum and as you went limp, one last terrifying realisation making itself known to you.

It wasn’t just sex.

A shattered breath escaped you at the revelation, and you shut your eyes, trying to reason with yourself one last time, but to no avail. Caleb surrounded you completely, holding you up upright with so much care, so deliberately, that it made total sense why you felt this way. With unending affection, he pulled you against him and kissed the crown of your head.

“Thats my girl.”

Except you weren’t. And it would be better for everyone if you remembered that.

You were writing.

It had been so long since you had been able to write like this, but the ability had come rushing back to you all of a sudden. Your fingers flew across your keyboard as you steadily typed, focused and satisfied at the work you were producing for the first time in months.

It was two in the morning when you finally snapped out of your concentrated state, yawning as you shut your laptop. Stretching, you quietly padded to your bathroom to get ready for the night and go to bed. You couldn’t believe you had written almost half of the sex scene when even the prospect of starting it had sounded so unachievable not too long ago.

Courtesy of Caleb, you had plenty of material to pull from.

You splashed water on your face, hoping the cool temperature of it would help you stop thinking about him. To say you were frustrated with your feelings was an understatement; you outright despised them.

This was your fault, you knew damn well it was. If you were going to get a fuckbuddy, it should have been someone who you weren’t so close to, someone you had no personal connections with. Anyone but the best friend you've had since you were seven years old, who you knew like the back of your hand, who knew you like it was second nature to do so.

Gripping the sides of the sink, you shut your eyes, grounding yourself to the moment. Part of you wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all. How on earth did you let yourself get in such a predicament?

You needed it to stop. For these confusing feelings to leave before things got even more complicated than they already were. Somehow, you needed to forget about them.

But how could you possibly do that? How were you supposed to forget the deliberate way he kissed you, or how good he made you feel when he looked at you that way? How were you supposed to get the scent of his cologne out of your sheets and closet, or pretend like you didn’t know what it was like to be touched by him?

How on earth were you supposed to get over being in love with him?

You didn’t even notice him walking in.

Writing for your book again meant that you had fallen behind quite a bit when it came to the work you had due for the paper. As a result, you had to stay behind and work late on the articles you had to present to Jenna, stuck at your desk in the newsroom when it was almost nine-thirty at night.

“Thought I’d find you here.”

Your eyes flickered up to find Caleb standing in front of your desk, one hand stuffed in his pockets and the other holding a bag of takeout from a diner that both of you liked. He gave you a soft, knowing smile that made your mouth go dry.

“Hey,” you straightened up in your seat, knowing that your posture tended to get worse the longer you wrote for. “You were looking for me?”

“Not exactly.” He grabbed a chair and parked it next to yours, sitting down. “I just figured you’d be working and forget to have dinner.”

“Oh.”

He was right, and you would have been embarrassed if this hadn’t happened before. Wordlessly, he began unpacking the takeout he had gotten. “Take a break for ten minutes and eat, okay?”

This was just like him. Knowing exactly when you needed to be taken care of while being well aware you could do just fine by yourself. You bit the inside of your cheek as you watched him, apprehensively nodding slowly.

“Okay.”

You grabbed a fry and began to chew, turning to face him and away from the computer. He looked the same as always, unkempt hair and all. It was like he knew you were tired and a little out of it today without you even having to tell him, falling into a comfortable silence as he ate with you.

There wasn’t another soul in this world that knew you so intimately. In the past, this wouldn’t have scared you, because you were so used to him and the ways he fit into your life so perfectly. Now, it frightened you to no end, reminding you of how much you had to lose when it came to Caleb. He was the most precious person in your life, which made it so much easier to fear losing him.

If there were rules when it came to having a best friend, you were certain you had broken all of them. Number one: Don’t sleep with your best friend. Already off to a rough start with that one, it seemed, but there was nothing you could do about it anymore. Number two: Don’t fall for your best friend. You doubted you even needed to go over the rest of the rules. Breaking those two had caused you enough damage.

Finishing up his food, he took a sip of his soda, noticing you were watching him intently. For the first time in a long time, he couldn’t quite decipher the look in your eyes. It almost felt as if you were hiding it from him on purpose.

He tilted the soda cup to you, silently asking if you wanted some of his. You leaned closer and took the straw in your mouth, taking a couple of sips before looking away.

Something was off. “Is everything okay?”

You pressed your lips together and gave him a half smile. “Yeah, everything's fine.”

Caleb narrowed his eyes at you, reaching out and propping a finger under your chin, lifting your face so you were forced to look at him.

“Pipsqueak,” He mumbled, dropping his gaze to your mouth for a split second, but it was enough to make you feel like you were set on fire. Like you were made of porcelain, he swiped his thumb next to your lower lip, rubbing away a stray crumb that had stuck there from your food. Then he looked at your mouth again, subconsciously leaning towards you as if he was about to kiss you.

Immediately, you jerked out of his touch. Guilt ate away at you when you noticed how he reacted to this, the flash of hurt that passed over his face as he frowned. As much as you hated being the cause of it, the way he was looking at you has started to inexplicably hurt. You were unable to stop the tenderness that unfolded in your chest anymore. It was potent, too real to fight against.

“We should stop.”

The words were out of your mouth before you could think about them any further, inciting confusion. He retracted his hand, the corners of his furrowed eyebrows tilting upwards. “Dinner? Because we’re pretty much done with that anyway.”

You could have taken advantage of his confusion and put this conversation off for a while, but you knew that letting this go on any longer would end up being torturous.

“No, Caleb,” You looked away, trying to ignore the way your throat seemed to close in on itself. “I’m not talking about dinner.”

“Then what are you talking about?” His voice took on that impossibly soft tone it did when he was trying to understand how you were feeling to properly help or sympathise with you. It was something he did when you were younger and got hurt, and he wanted to make sure you knew you weren’t dealing with it alone.

Sucking in a breath of air, you looked down at your hands in your lap, playing with your fingers. “I think we should stop having sex.”

A beat passed. You could feel the weight of his stare on you. “Okay.”

You weren’t sure where to go from there, your heart pounding within your ribcage like it was trying to escape. The light from your computer felt too harsh and the ticking of the clock hands was unnaturally loud in the stiff silence that settled over the two of you. Clearing his throat, he spoke again.

“Did…Did I do something?”

“No,” the caution yet dejected way he said it made you blurt that out quickly, refusing to let him think something was completely wrong. “You didn’t. At all. It’s just…..” You trailed off, biting your tongue and regretting bringing this up already. “I….I wrote the scene.”

“The scene?”

“The sex scene. In my book.” The awkwardness in your cadence is foreign to your ears and his. You had never been so apprehensive around him because you had never had a reason to. This was a first you despised vehemently, scorning the way you had to phrase everything so delicately, as if you didn’t, the damage caused would be irreparable.

“Right.” Now he had an unreadable look in his eyes too, matching yours.

“Right,” you echoed softly. “So there's no reason for anymore…...research.” Because research had spiralled into forgetting your regular roles when it came to each other. Research had made you aware of feelings that had been dormant your entire life and should have stayed that way.

In an ironic twist of fate, you had literally fucked around and found out.

“I see.”

You didn’t know what possessed you to keep talking when it was so obvious that both him and you wanted nothing more than to move on from this conversation. You risked a glance at him to find him aimlessly tracing the edge of his soda cup, eyes trained on the straw. “So we can go back to being just friends. Regular friends.”

The clarification made you wince. When his eyes met yours again, you were surprised to find something different in the way he looked at you– those dark purple depths swirling with an intensity that superseded their usual levels, startling you.

“We’ll always be friends, Y/n.”

Caleb didn’t call you pipsqueak. A minute detail that shouldn’t have shaken you at all, and yet here you were stuck on it in spite of the fact that he had just agreed to being friends again. Or rather, the normal definition of friends, because you weren’t ever anything more than that. You swallowed, turning back to your computer.

“Okay. I should get back to working on this article.”

Your dismissal of him was quiet but obvious. The air had started to get suffocating and you needed as much space from him as you could get until you sorted out the mess in your head, one that was your cross to bear. Your fault.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him nod and get to his feet, turning to leave, but hesitating for just a moment.

It was only when he exited the newsroom that you realised it wasn’t any easier to breathe without him there. It felt even harder now, like someone had their foot over your chest and was putting all their weight on it, letting gravity do the rest of the work. You pushed yourself away from your desk, the wheels under your chair smoothly rolling away until the back of it hit the wall behind you.

Even the impact of that wasn’t enough to shock you out of your misery. Surely, love wasn’t supposed to feel as cruel as it did right now, like claws sinking into your skin and making you bleed. It shouldn’t have felt wrong, but you knew that it was. Perhaps this was retribution for allowing yourself to indulge in something that was so clearly off-limits to you.

A familiar pressure built up behind your eyes as you turned resentful. The sting of your sorrow manifested as tears welled up and caught in your lower lashes. You shut your eyes, but not before those tears slid down your face, cementing the bitter, indisputable reality of your heartbreak.

Caleb stayed away.

He had known damn well that whatever was between the two of you wasn’t forever. It wasn’t even real, solely for the sake of your writing and the book you were so proud of. It was his fault for getting caught up in it all and expecting you to never call it off, to stay in that limbo with him forever.

Saying no to you was something he wasn't capable of. Not when he was ten and you were eight, and you wanted the last piece of cake even though it was his favourite flavour. Not when he was fifteen and you used to beg him to let you wear his shirts because you liked how oversized they were on you. Not when you would give him puppy eyes and sweetly ask him to cook those braised chicken wings you loved so much.

And not when you needed help with writing about sex.

Even if it went against all his morals and everything he had forced himself to believe for the past twelve years he had known you. He had held himself together around you for as long as he could remember, hands to himself and thoughts strictly friendly. Caleb was used to the best friend role. He was good at playing it, even when the script pained him to recite, he did so anyway with a smile on his face.

Because smiling back at him was you. It was always you, with your bright eyes and angelic laughter.

Caleb had accepted this role when he was only nine years old and had stuck to it ever since. He let it consume him, living in ignorant bliss as he silenced the pleas of his heart and what it wanted, no, begged for.

How was he supposed to know where to go from here? The script had deviated too much for him to return to its safety. He knew how your lip gloss tasted, sweet and inviting and maddening, just like everything else about you.

So he stayed away from you and your cherry lip gloss, hoping the marks it had left all over him would fade.

It had been almost two weeks since Caleb last set foot in the newsroom.

Jenna was overjoyed and Tara was suspicious. The latter asked you where your ‘boyfriend’ was, to which you refused to look at her as you muttered the reminder: he’s not my boyfriend. It felt like you were reminding yourself more than her, lacking any of your usual annoyance.

You supposed this was your fault as well. It wasn’t like you had made any effort to reach out either, stuck in your pathetic little cycle of self-pity and fear. You felt his absence, though, cutting deep into you and leaving you with a Caleb-sized hole in your life. The last time you experienced something like this was when he left for university for the first time and you were finishing up your senior year, suddenly having to deal with not having him around for months on end.

At least he was calling you back then, and when you joined him at university, it never happened again. You hadn’t realised what a big part of your life he was until he was missing from it.

God, you missed him.

You missed that stupid, smug chuckle of his when he knew you were getting riled up because of something he said, and his terrible sense of humour. The smirk on his face when you were losing an argument, and how he’d stick his tongue out when he was concentrating on something. Hell, you missed the sound of his voice and the comfort it brought you.

After you finished your work for the day, you walked out of the newsroom and down the hallways of the university building. The cool evening air swept around you, making you think of one of Caleb's jackets that was still in your dorm from the last time he had been, draped over your desk chair. You almost wished you had it with you right now.

Your feet carried you to the dining hall, reminding you of your need to eat through the wall of your troubled thoughts. It was not so much hunger as it was a necessity. Your appetite had been less than robust these past few days, your emotions weighing you down in more ways than one. You didn’t have him to remind you to eat or sleep, or run like a normal human being.

Grabbing an apple to appease your stomach, you bit into it and looked around, mentally going over everything else you had to do that day. Start an essay you had due the next week, beg the members of your group to do their parts of the presentation that was worth a whopping thirty percent of your grade and polish the last scene you had written for your book.

It turned out that your turbulent emotional state had translated into you being more productive than ever, throwing yourself into your studies and writing like you had never before. Anything to avoid thinking about him and what you felt. An unhealthy coping mechanism for sure, but it worked for you.

Kind of.

Unable to stomach anything else, you tossed the core of the apple into a nearby dustbin and left the dining hall, eager to make it back to your room. You hadn’t slept very well lately, and you wanted to get all your work out of the way before crashing. Sleeping, you discovered, was another excellent course of action to take when you wanted to avoid facing something, and at least it wasn’t downright unhealthy. The dark circles under your eyes would certainly thank you.

When you turned the corner, he was there.

Caleb stood there, just a few paces away from you in all his six-two glory. His back was turned to you, but you knew it was him, deep in conversation with his friend, Gideon. You were unable to do anything but stare, your pulse picking up in speed at the sight of him. You wondered if the chasm he had created between the two of you had affected him as much as it had you.

When he bid farewell to Gideon and turned, you panicked. When he saw you, you remained rooted to the spot, watching as his steps faltered and came to a stop. He looked almost as tired as you felt, dawdling briefly before speaking.

“Hey.”

Hey. Hey? Was that all he could say after refusing to look your way for over a week? Your apprehension flared up into anger, and you took three furious steps towards him, your docile stare melting into a glare.

“You sure talk a lot of shit about keeping you informed for someone who has been avoiding me.”

He winced. “I wasn’t….avoiding you.”

“Oh really? Could have fooled me.” You scowled at him as you took another step forward. You were pissed, and rightly so, but it stemmed more from how hurt you felt rather than any genuine anger.

Caleb didn’t bother to meet your eyes, opting to look off to the side instead. That stung a little more than you cared to admit. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, shifting his weight from one foot to another. “Have you eaten yet?’ Barely five minutes around you, and he had already jumped into trying to take care of you. It was so infuriatingly like him.

Every time he didn’t want to face something, he would deflect and redirect the conversation. Your years together had taught you well, making it impossible for him to sidestep you even if he tried. You could tell he was avoiding you even when you were right in front of him.

“Stop changing the subject.”

You watched as his jaw tightened and relaxed, something he did when he was conflicted. All his tells were so laughably obvious to you, and yet you couldn’t make heads or tails of how he was acting right now, so forcibly distant and detached, like being close to you was painful. Your eyes burned.

“Do you hate me?” You asked, hating how your voice suddenly sounded so feeble. His eyes snapped back to yours, wide and defiant.

“I could never hate you.” The finality in the way he said it told you he was telling the truth, and yet, you couldn’t help but fall victim to the doubt creeping into your mind. He was looking right at you now– except he wasn’t really. It was more like he was looking through you.

“Then…then why?” You whispered, taking another tentative step forward. The space that both of you created, consciously or not, was unbearable. You just wanted things to go back to normal, was that so much to ask for?

“I don’t hate you. You just don’t understand.”

“Then make me understand!” You threw your hands up in the air in exasperation, wondering what the hell you had to do to make this conversation go somewhere, because right now it just felt like you were running in circles. “Caleb, please, just tell me why you’re avoiding me, because you are.”

He knew he was and hadn’t a single excuse, other than the reason he swore you never burdened you with. You were looking at him so pleadingly, grasping at straws to figure him out, but for the first time in his life, he found himself unable to give you an answer. Instead, his throat constricted, his anxiety keeping him silent.

“It’s my fault, isn’t it?” Your face crumbled, and upon witnessing it, so did his heart. Your lower lip trembled like a leaf on a windy day, and you bit down on it to stop it from doing so, doing your best to stay composed. Running a hand through your hair, you let out a shaky sigh. “I knew it, I should have never– we shouldn’t have slept together. That should have never happened and now everything is fucked up, and its all because of me.”

Yes. No. The answer wasn’t as straightforward as he needed it to be, and it paralysed him. The anguish you felt was on display for him and anyone who happened to walk by you to see, plain as day, as it twisted your features. It felt as if he had been stabbed in the gut when you backed away from him.

Turning away, you walked off. You had ruined things, you were sure of it, and it killed you. Once again, you let the rift between him and you grow with every step you took to escape the crash you had been responsible for.

A hand on your wrist. You gasped as he caught you, spinning you around and forcing you to face him once again.

Caleb had followed you into the gardens.

“Do you regret it?”

The question cut through you, and you gaped at him. The fervour you were so used to seeing in him suddenly returned, burning brightly in his eyes as he pinned you in place with them, his grip on your wrist never letting up. Question for question, with neither of you getting the answers you wanted.

You scoffed, rapidly blinking away the tears that you felt coming on. “If it's the reason things are weird between us, then yes! I do regret it. I need my best friend, Caleb. I need you.”

How could you not need him? He was your constant, the one person who had been by your side through thick and thin. You needed him in your life, by your side, in whatever way you were allowed to, even if it wasn’t what you truly wanted anymore.

He let go of your wrist. “I can’t do it.”

Your biggest fear was coming true right in front of your very eyes, and you hadn’t the faintest idea of how to stop it. It was taking form, bleeding into existence. You were losing him.

“You can’t do what?”

“I can’t be your friend. I just can’t.” He shook his head, shutting his eyes like he couldn’t bear to look at you.

Your voice comes out weak. Small. “But you said we’ll always be friends.”

“Well, I lied, okay! I can’t be your friend, not when–” He sucked in a breath, rubbing a hand over his face as he tried to reign himself in, stopping his outburst before it could happen. It wasn’t fair to you, none of this was, but he was at his breaking point. “I could do it before, but not anymore.”

“Why?” You whispered, those tears you had so valiantly fought off surging back. Once again, you felt like you had been trampled on, pinned down by a merciless gravity that had no regard for your need to breathe. You weren’t sure there was a reason to fight against it anymore.

He looked up at the darkening sky, deflating. Staying away from you hadn’t made it any better– if anything, it had only made it worse, his yearning to be beside you bubbling to an all-time high. There wasn’t a point in hiding anymore, not when it was turning out to be detrimental rather than soothing.

“Because,” he paused, peering up at the cloudy sky. He couldn’t see the stars. “I can’t go back to being your friend when I’ve tasted you. How am I supposed to act like I’ve never kissed you when I’ve had you in my bed? To pretend like I don’t know how it feels to have you like that? God, Y/n, I can’t do it.

Caleb, whom you had viewed as strong and untouchable all your life. Caleb, whom you had endlessly looked up to, sounded almost tortured, like it pained him to even have to tell you this.

“What are you saying?”

You hoped you didn’t look as terrified as you sounded. It felt as if someone had pulled the rug out from beneath you, but the ground underneath it was falling apart too, leaving you to stumble around and try to find your footing amidst the cracks that remained. If you fell now, you weren’t sure you’d ever be able to get up.

But that was the thing, wasn’t it? You had already fallen, and hard.

Caleb was stripped of his usual self-assuredness and confident smile. He was laid bare there in front of you, fixing you with a look that was so pained it tore through you.

“I’m in love with you.”

The confession ripped through you, although you didn’t register it at first. Those five words felt so improbable to have been said by him to you of all people that the only thing you could feel was disbelief. It just didn’t make sense. Why would something you longed to hear so badly be said with such sadness?

He mistook your stunned silence for aversion. He should have stopped there, given up and walked away, but now that he had finally, finally let it out, it was hard to stop. It was like a dam had broken within him; everything he had ever kept to himself when it came to you rushed out all at once.

“I’m in love with you, Y/n,” he said again, scoffing slightly at himself. No nicknames, just your name spoken in that reverent tone, like you were a divine being he was a devout follower of. “And it kills me because I know you’ll never see me as anything more than a best friend. You’ve made that very clear, and I never want to overstep, so I stayed away from you.”

“Caleb–”

He didn’t let you cut in. “I could do it when I didn’t know what it felt like to have you as something more than friends. The moment we crossed that line, it was all over for me. I would be your friend until I died if I didn’t know.” His hands were shaking, but they stayed by his sides, fingers curled into frustrated fists as he rambled.

“I–”

“But I can’t, Pips. I can’t do it anymore. I can’t be your best friend when I’ve loved you my entire life.” And you’re falling all over again, gravity pulling you down, down, down as something unfurled in your chest. “So please just–”

“Goddamnit Caleb, would you just shut up for one fucking minute!?”

You hadn’t meant to snap, but he was seriously to piss you off, going on and on without giving you the chance to speak your mind. Immediately, he clamped his mouth shut, preparing himself for the inevitable rejection he had imagined too many times to count in his head. You, on the other hand, thought you were going to faint, overwhelmed by everything that had just happened. It was everything you had convinced yourself was impossible.

And yet…

You kept your eyes locked onto his as you closed the distance between the two of you, so close now that you could feel the warmth radiating off of him, combating the chill in the evening air. Swallowing, you asked.

“You’re in love with me?”

He clenched his jaw and nodded. He knew what the consequences were, he was ready for them. It was about time he faced the truth anyway.

What he didn’t expect was for you to start laughing.

You clamped a hand over your mouth as incredulous laughter left you, eyes practically sparkling. Oddly enough, it sounded a little watery, like you were crying at the same time.

And then he realised you were, in fact, crying, tears streaming down your face. Alarmed, he stepped forward and cupped your face, instinctively wiping them away with the pads of his thumbs. This did nothing to dampen your hysterical laughter as you leaned into his touch.

“What the fuck?” He muttered, concern overtaking his previous, heartsick expression. “Are you dying or something?”

“Or something,” you managed to get out, gripping his arms, “We’re so stupid.”

“That…..okay, I’m officially confused. And a little scared.”

“Caleb,” you whispered once you stopped giggling, lethally soft. You looked up at him adoringly, eyes shining and tinged slightly red from your tears. “I’m in love with you, too.”

He froze, mouth falling open. He didn’t have to say anything, though, because honestly, he had said enough. It was your turn now.

You leaned further into his touch, nuzzling your cheek against his palm. “I think I’ve loved you for a long time, but I only realised after….after everything that happened between us.” You flushed, trying to word it as delicately as possible. “And I drove myself crazy because I thought you’d never see me that way–”

“I’ve always seen you that way.” He breathed out, those captivating eyes of his trained on you in wonder. Butterflies came to life in your stomach.

“– So I called it off. I said we needed to stop because I was so scared I’d lose you.”

By the time you finished, you were both staring at each other wide-eyed. His grip on you tightened, one hand falling to your waist as he tugged you closer.

“You love me?”

“I love you,” you nodded. “It just took me a while to figure it out.”

“Pipsqueak.” You had never been more grateful than you were right then to hear that stupid petname. “Oh my god, we are stupid.”

Without another word, Caleb pulled you into a kiss. You reciprocated instantly, wrapping your arms around his neck as you smiled against his lips, unable to contain yourself anymore. He kissed you like it was the only thing he ever wanted to do, holding you like you were precious, which to him, you undoubtedly were. It was your first proper kiss with him without any pretence or excuse surrounding it, and you couldn’t have asked for more.

Chuckling when you dissolved into more giddy giggles, he wiped away any stray tears from your face and rested his forehead against yours. After all these years waiting and hoping that you’d feel the same way, he knew he’d never let you go now.

“I love you, too.” It was a relief to say out loud and to your face, coming out of hiding and letting the truth of his feelings sit out in the light. You pecked his lips again and hugged him, revelling in his warmth and the delight of your feelings being returned. Your best friend loved you back, and everything in the world made sense again.

“Don’t be my best friend,” You mumbled fondly, cheek against his shoulder as you laid out your final request. “Just be mine.”

He smiled, an expression so dazzling you’d never forget it. “I’ll always be yours.”

When Caleb looked back at the sky, he could see the stars.

“Are you done?”

“Shh.”

You rolled your eyes, flopping onto the pile of plushes on your bed as you pulled out your phone and went through your messages. To be fair, it had barely been two minutes since you handed him your laptop, but you were impatient, wanting to know what he thought as soon as possible.

Caleb’s eyes were focused on the screen as he read, humming occasionally as he scrolled through the scene. If anyone had told you a year ago that you’d be letting him read a part of your writing, let alone a sex scene of all things, you would have either laughed in their face or had a mental breakdown.

Yet here you were. Life sure had a sense of humour.

Finally, after an agonising ten minutes, he spoke. “Wow.”

“Is it good?”

He shut your laptop and put it back on your desk carefully, before walking over to where you were. Then, he dropped himself onto the bed as well, purposely caging you in his arms and making sure you were trapped under his weight. Squealing, you hit his arm playfully.

“Caleb!”

Your boyfriend laughed mischievously, lifting his head so you could see the smirk that curled on his lips. “It was good. Very good.”

You sighed in relief. “Thank god.”

“So I must be really good in bed, huh?”

There it was. You groaned as you tried to push him off of you, even though you knew it was a futile task. “Don’t even try, you smug asshole.”

“What?” He asked, dripping in faux innocence. “I mean, you did use me for research purposes. Is it not a fair assumption to make?” He was so proud of it, and knew damn well that the entire sex scene he had just read had been falicitated because of him. Every part of it had been pulled from things the two of you had done, the thought of which made your skin heat up and your cheeks burn.

“You’re so annoying,” you huffed, giving up on trying to get him to stop squashing you. Instead, you adjusted, curling into him. Accepting this, he switched your positions, pulling you on top of him and resting his chin on your shoulder.

“You like it.”

“Unfortunately.”

You yelped when he pinched your side, but it dissolved into giggles when he began peppering kisses all over your face. Slipping his arm around your waist, he held you close, grining against your skin. If you had to stay like this forever, in his arms and under the glow of his radiant smile, you would be content.

“You’re an amazing writer, Pipsqueak,” he cradled your face in his hands, his love for you so achingly obvious in the way he looked at you that you wondered how you had never noticed it before. Rubbing his fingers against your cheek, he kissed your nose. “It would be just as great even if I hadn’t– uh– assisted.”

Though you snickered at him, you couldn’t stop yourself from beaming at his praise for your work. “I’m glad you did though,” you let him pull you closer, arm looping around your waist as you propped a leg over his. “Otherwise we might have never figured our shit out.”

He snorted. “Thank god for research. You would have kept me in the friendzone forever.”

“Hey!”

He silenced any further protests that you could have made, pressing his lips to yours in a sweet kiss. All possible complaints fled your mind the moment he did, eagerly kissing him back. You didn’t think you’d ever get enough of this and you had no idea how you had survived for so long while denying yourself of it.

Caleb had loved you for twelve years, steadily standing by your side and holding your hand even when you couldn’t see it. He had walked beside you through it all, the highest of highs and lowest of lows, lifting you up high over his shoulders with a grin on his face. He would never leave you behind, because he was your home. The one you had grown up with and wanted to wake up to everyday for the rest of your life.

He had taught you love without imposing it on you, silently showing it to you with every little thing he did. Your best friend. Your love. It had taken you a long time to catch up, but when you finally made it to the finish line, you found him waiting there for you patiently, holding out his hand for you to take.

The next time Tara called him your boyfriend, you didn’t correct her.

fin.

12K notes · View notes

supermyeon22 · 13 days ago

Text

it isn't midnight yet

pairing: caleb x reader

summary: when you realise the shift in your feelings for Caleb isn't as new as you thought and nowhere as fleeting as you hoped, wanting him turns unbearable. now, it's fifteen minutes to midnight, his birthday is almost over, and all you know is that you don't want to spend any more time avoiding what could be.

themes: childhood friends to lovers, complicated relationship dynamincs, fluff, explicit smut, so much sexual tension and build up, yearning, canon compliant, petnames, profanity, lots of making out, implied first time but whatever, nipple sucking, fingering, oral (fem receiving), p in v sex, unprotected sex, floor sex like seriously they fuck all over it lmao, a smidge of edging, multiple rounds, yapping during sex, praise kink, mentions of events from farspace deprivation and references to his other cards, mc is painfully desperate which is accurate for this card, they match each others freak

wc: 16.3k (don't look at me i'm ashamed)

playlist: why by shawn mendes, i wanna be yours by the arctic monkeys, dress by taylor swift, ride by somo, birthday dance by josh levi

lyns notes: IGNORE HOW LATE THIS IS PLEASE AND THANK YOU. remember when this was supposed to be short? yep. this is my very self-indulgent adaptation of no-return night! i've watched the kindled so many times it should be considered shameful and needed to be insane about it. i've unlocked levels of down bad previously unknown to man, and i have channelled those exact vibes into mc. happy birthday caleb. god bless.

For as long as you could remember, Caleb had always been just out of your reach.

In a literal sense, that was completely incorrect. Growing up with him under the same roof meant that all your earliest memories had him embedded in them in some way or another. He had always been around, always ready to catch you if you fell or show you the way back home if you ever got lost. Older, dependable, constant; there was no end to the number of ways you could describe his presence in your life.

But for the past couple of months, the one you’d say fit the best would be confusing.

“Sooooo, when are you going to be in Skyhaven?”

You gripped your phone a little tighter, pressing a finger to the scanner of your door and pushing it open. “Who said I was coming to Skyhaven?”

“You’ve asked me about my schedule, and my birthday is this week. It doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together.” Caleb’s voice took on that teasing lilt you were so familiar with, and you knew the face he was probably making right now: a knowing grin paired with a raise of his eyebrows.

“So much for trying to surprise you,” you muttered, kicking off your shoes by the doorway and walking into your apartment. “Can’t you let me at least think I’ve succeeded for once?”

“No can do. Let me know when you’re arriving so I can pick you up.” You could practically hear the smile in his voice. You unzipped the front part of your hunter uniform and tossed the corset into the laundry basket, rolling your shoulders to release the tension you had been carrying around.

“No.”

A pause. “No?”

“The least you can do is let my arrival be a surprise.”

He chuckled softly, and for some maddening reason, the sound made you stop whatever you were doing and listen. “Alright.” He relented, light and airy, “I can’t wait to see you.”

The drop in his tone, the way he stressed the word, something about it all made you bite the inside of your cheek hard. “Me too,” you admitted after a second, ignoring how your throat had gone dry. “I uh….gotta go. Bye, Caleb.”

“See ya.”

Ending the call, you heaved a sigh of relief and collapsed onto your couch. You pressed the heels of your palms into your eyes and stayed like that for a couple of minutes, trying your hardest to calm the hammering of your heart. The feeling was similar to when you were running high on adrenaline while facing a particularly dangerous wanderer.

But why on earth were you experiencing that now?

Well, it wasn’t just now. He’d say something sweet, or stare at you for a beat too long, and it would feel as if all the air had been knocked out of your lungs, which confused you to no end. You had always known Caleb was a charming person; it was pretty obvious from how popular he had been in school as well as during his university days, but for the most part, you had been fairly immune.

Lately, however, it seemed like that immunity of yours had worn off, and with it, the rose-tinted glasses you had been wearing your entire childhood when it came to him. As a child, you had thought that his tendency to hover around you and need to always be by your side was simply because he was fond of you. He was the older kid who had to take care of you, and for a while, you had assumed he looked at it as some sort of duty.

But now….

Caleb was the most important person in your life. When the explosion took place and he had been ripped out of it, the grief you felt was insurmountable. You could hardly process the fact that the boy you had turned to for everything was gone, leaving you with a gaping void in your heart that you couldn’t fill, no matter how much you tried. Even throwing yourself into your work hadn’t helped soothe the pain of losing him, because he was so intertwined with everything that made you you, from the way you carried yourself to how you held your gun.

And then he returned from the dead, except he hadn’t ever actually been dead. The light in his eyes had dimmed, and he donned a uniform that turned him into someone you hardly recognised, but it was still him. The very same Caleb who faced danger with you now tried his hardest to keep you from it, terrified that he’d lose you. He held you tighter, kept you closer, and the way he looked at you was the same as it had always been, but there was something much more intense about it. Less subtle.

It wasn’t like you were any better. All the secrets he seemed to be keeping drove you crazy, and even when he was right in front of you, it still felt like he was worlds apart. You did everything you could to keep him as close as you could, to understand him better, even when it consisted of putting yourself in danger. The fiasco with the chip had been impulsive and risky, but he had gotten you out of it and still didn’t know you remembered everything that had happened.

Perhaps it was the shock of losing him and then getting him back that caused something to shift inside of you. Now, you noticed how he lingered, feeling it in your bones every time he was around. His touch would have you freeze and hesitate in ways you never would have before. It wasn’t just innocent admiration you held for him anymore; it was much deeper than you thought it could be. At first, you told yourself it was just because you were so relieved to have him back, but as they grew more intense, you knew that those feelings were here to stay.

The territory you were navigating was so unfamiliar, and as a result, you shied away from your feelings time and time again. He’d get closer, and you’d take three steps back, forcing yourself to turn a blind eye to what was right in front of you in order to avoid messing up what you already had. You so badly wanted him to let you in, but constantly stumbled back whenever you felt yourself getting too close to the truth.

And Caleb never crossed the line. It didn’t matter how long he stared or how close he’d pull you, the moment you hesitated, he’d let you go.

You weren’t as hopelessly oblivious as you let on; you were aware of how he felt because his feelings were a mirror of your own, even if you refused to look at them. You could see it in his eyes, how they’d narrow and go slightly hazy when he looked at you for too long. How his jaw would clench and his throat would bob, like he was fighting a war with his mind.

Being with him was the most natural thing in the world to you, but it was moments like those that made you feel greedy for more. Your feelings for him weren’t platonic anymore.

And maybe they had never been platonic in the first place. Not really, anyway. Just friends didn’t use your body wash because it smelled like you, or promise not to get a girlfriend because you and Gran were all he needed. Friends didn’t pretend to date each other to ward off other people, and they definitely didn’t get jealous when the other paid attention to someone else.

Opening your eyes, you aimlessly stared at the ceiling as thoughts of Caleb rolled around in your head. Thinking of him like this had originally filled you with immense guilt, considering the history you shared and how fragile everything had seemed when he reappeared. It felt almost forbidden to want more, a fruit you desperately wanted to taste but were instructed never to touch. It hung from a tree whose branches were much too high for you to reach, even when you stood on your tip-toes.

Just out of reach.

Sitting up, you pulled yourself together and decided to focus on the task at hand. Caleb’s birthday was in less than a week, and you still had absolutely no idea what you were going to give him as a gift. Frustratingly enough, Caleb was the type of person to never talk about the things he wanted. The two of you had spent almost every birthday together, so you had pretty much given him every gift you could think he’d like, and you didn’t think he needed another three thousand-piece model to put together.

Your life would be so much easier if he were straight with you and just said what he wanted.

About gifts, of course. Nothing else.

“Should I call Gideon?”

Caleb sighed, leaning back in his chair as he examined the hologram reports in front of him half-heartedly. “Why?”

“What do you mean, ‘why’? He’s your friend, that’s why.” You snickered on the other end of the call. He could hear you shuffling around in your apartment, knowing how you could never stay still for more than ten minutes.

“And?”

“I’m trying to plan a party for you.” You said, so obviously exasperated by his demeanour. “Can you not make my job harder?”

He smiled to himself at your grumbling, “Where's the fun in that? Besides, I don’t even want a party. Who else would I even call? Liam?”

Your silence spoke louder than your words ever could. “Right, but I still want to do something big for your birthday.” The pout that was undoubtedly on your lips was audible in the way you spoke, stubborn and insistent. “I want it to be special. It’s the first time we’re celebrating your birthday after… you know.”

Of course, he knew.

“Have you considered that I only want to celebrate with you?”

The statement was reckless, but he couldn’t help but indulge in that selfish wish. His twenty-fifth birthday had been one he spent up above the clouds in Skyhaven, alone, and supposedly dead to all who knew him. Honestly, he couldn’t have cared less about other people, but not having you by his side was the thing that hit him the hardest. Now, most of the people he had once called friends still thought he was dead, and his old life was nothing more than a distant memory.

You were all he had.

“Are you sure?”

You sounded uncertain, like you couldn’t fathom the idea. When you were younger, he always had a party of some sort, and with his high school popularity, he was constantly surrounded by friends, but none of them ever held a candle to you. At the end of each birthday, it would always just be him and you, sneaking off to be away from the crowd and only with each other. As time went on, this tradition dwindled until the chance to get away from it all disappeared.

Even now, it sometimes felt as if he was running out of time; every second with you felt fleeting and precious. He wanted so badly to make up for the ten months he had been out of your life for, because when he found you again, there was so much he realised he didn’t know anymore.

“It’ll be special if you’re there,” he swiped the reports away. “That’s all I want.”

There was a time when he was sure he’d never be able to let himself want more, even when he subconsciously let himself have it. Every time he pushed against the boundaries he had set for himself, you let him through without a single complaint, even pulling him closer when you didn’t quite understand what you were doing.

“You’re always so greedy when it comes to my time.” The affectionate lilt in your voice made itself known even through the forced annoyance. He smiled

“You always let me be.”

To say you were frustrated would be an understatement.

Caleb’s birthday, on all accounts, should have been considered a success. He wore the outfit you had gotten him, he loved the cake, and even the movie screening you had planned worked out pretty well, even if the movie was pretty boring. He seemed overjoyed at every little thing you had done, but to you, the day had felt like a repeat of every other birthday you had celebrated in the past.

And as a result, as any well-adjusted person would, you had acted like a total lunatic the entire day.

Instance number one: When he hugged you and said that the new outfit needed your scent on it for people to know you were together. You heard those words and instantly froze, your brain running at a mile a minute at the implication of it, even when you knew that the two of you weren’t actually together.

Number two: “Eyes on the road.”

Getting caught staring at his chest had to be one of the top ten most embarrassing moments of your life. Honestly, who could blame you when that robot had announced it so loudly? Curiosity was a natural thing, and you were simply fulfilling that, but you were sure he hadn’t missed the follow-up glances you had taken, even if you had done your best to be subtle. Perhaps he hadn’t called you out those times for your sake.

You didn’t even want to think about the way you shivered when he confessed he was always jealous. Pathetic. Mortifying. You were sure you were going insane, or something along those lines.

Number three: your incessant questioning. Asking if he was enjoying his birthday, if it had all been to his liking and if he was having a good time over and over again, so anxious. He even asked you if the answer to that question was important to you for some reason.

Damn him for being able to read you so well. As always, he was right, but it wasn’t the question that you felt was important, but rather the answer that would follow. You desperately wanted to know if he was content with how his birthday was going so far, or if he wanted more.

But then you glanced at his shelves and caught sight of all the frames, each one having pictures of him and you. You on his back, another with you kissing his cheek at your graduation, him holding the back of your head as he looked down at you with a look in his eyes so achingly familiar that it made you snap out of it. You recalled how, instead of telling him why the question was important, you began talking.

“Before…” you trailed off, swallowing the knot that appeared in your throat every time you spoke of the explosion. “I took you for granted. You were like the sun, and the sun is just in the sky, always shining. It’s a part of my life, so I assumed it would always be there.” In all honesty, you weren’t sure if you were making any sense, but you couldn’t exactly stop now.

A half smile laced his lips. “I see we’re talking about a very serious topic now.”

You did your best to appear as casual as possible, ignoring the way your heart hammered in your chest as you shrugged slightly. He instantly saw through the facade, and in typical Caleb fashion, poked your cheek playfully, leaning down just a little bit. “The sun doesn’t cease to exist just because you forgot to look up. It’ll always shine wherever you can see it.”

You stared at him when he said that, taking in everything about him. The reassuring squeeze on your shoulder, the gentle way he said it, and in that moment, you saw the Caleb you grew up with. The boy who did his utmost to protect you at every corner, the one whose hand you held onto whenever you had a nightmare and couldn’t go back to sleep without him crawling into your bed and holding you. Admirable, dependable, something worthwhile looking up to.

“But back then, I never thought about how the sun might feel a little lonely, up there all by itself.” Always waiting on you to catch up, but never making it an expectation. You glanced down at your lap as he exhaled in surprise at your revelation, thinking of how even now, just like the sun, he felt so out of reach, even though he was right next to you, forbidden for you to touch.

“Maybe what drew me in was never the sun or its light. It was just you, Caleb. Even if you’re a dim white dwarf, a supernova, or a bunch of ruins….I wouldn’t care.”

Everything you said felt wrong. Too heavy on your tongue. A confession that would burn your tongue if you ever stripped it back and spoke the truth of it out loud. You didn’t even know if it was okay for you to say all this, however much you draped it in metaphors and flowery language.

He seemed to be stunned into silence, and taking advantage of this, you forged on. “No matter what happens in the future, I just want us to stay like this.” You wrapped your arms around him, settling into the familiar cocoon of his embrace. “To be able to hold you close.”

There was something so painfully delicate between Caleb and you. A fault line of sorts that you usually tread on as carefully as you could, but today, you had stomped all over it without any grace whatsoever.

“Y/n.” He breathed out your name after what felt like ages, leaning down until his mouth was just by your ear. “Time and time again, you’ve always allowed me to want more than what I thought was possible.” You could feel his breath on your skin, making your mind go completely blank with its warmth, your own breath hitching as he hugged you back.

It still wasn’t enough.

That conversation replayed in your head, frustration churning around inside of you until it felt like it was at a boiling point. How else were you supposed to explain any of that behaviour, other than chalking it up to utter lunacy?

Freshly showered, you now stood in front of the mirror, feeling more ridiculous than ever. A sense of restlessness simmered in your veins like an itch you couldn’t quite reach, warming your skin with an insatiable heat. Moonlight streamed through the windows of your room, illuminating the space enough for you not to have to switch any lights on as you inspected your reflection.

The dress you had on right now was a gorgeous baby blue number that stopped a little above your mid-thigh, made of tastefully shimmery fabric. The straps were black ribbons, tied in pretty bows on top of your shoulders and wrapping you up like a present, deliberately chosen by you for that very detail. It matched the outfit you had picked out for him, but you hadn’t dared to wear it earlier. You even had shoes on, a pretty pair of black Mary Janes that tied the look together.

So there you were, all dolled up after showering and feeling like a total idiot, because what insane person made themselves a gift for someone they weren’t even with? The decision to purchase it had been an impulsive one, the result of another night filled with pent-up yearning and a need for your best friend that you still didn’t dare acknowledge.

Because he was Caleb, those violet eyes you’ve grown up being watched by and that mischievous grin you had imprinted in your mind, completely impossible to forget. Your Caleb, but not exactly.

If Caleb was the sun, then you were Icarus.

And now, it was eleven forty-five p.m.

Fifteen minutes to midnight. Fifteen minutes until his birthday was over, and as the seconds passed, you could feel yourself being pulled away from the magic of the day. Your cowardice had won, keeping you from acting on all the feelings you had for him out of fear of ruining what you already had.

Perhaps this was how it was meant to be. What you were so afraid to want was an idea you had only ever let yourself entertain in your dreams, and dreams belonged to the shade of night. Tomorrow would come, those dreams would be forgotten, and everything would go back to normal. Briefly, you allowed yourself to wonder if he was thinking of you right now, like you were thinking of him. When he closed his eyes tonight and fell asleep, would he dream of you too?

You turned away from the mirror and looked around the rest of the room, feeling extremely foolish. Crouching down, you began to unbuckle your heels when–

Footsteps.

You stilled, knowing that the only person the footsteps could have belonged to was Caleb. You had thought that you were the only one awake, but it seemed like he couldn’t sleep either.

Was there a chance that he was awake for the same reasons as you? Momentarily, you wondered if he was just as frustrated as you were with how today had gone; exactly the same as all the years that had come before– all except for one little thing.

He hadn’t called you Pipsqueak.

All your life, you had been his Pipsqueak, Pips, his one and only. You couldn’t remember where the nickname had come from or when he had started using it, but it was a constant in the same way his presence was. You didn’t think you’d tolerate it from anyone but him, but now that you thought about it, he hadn’t called you that for a good while. It had just been your name, plain and simple.

Shutting your eyes, you let yourself be pulled back into that moment from an hour ago, with him holding you in his arms like letting you go would be a crime. You could still feel the warmth of his body through the layers of his clothing, and his heart beating in his chest. You could smell his cologne, and feel the sensation of his breath on your cheek as you held you close, so painfully aware of him as he overtook your every sense.

The memory wasn’t enough, and right there, with fifteen minutes left for his birthday to be over, you knew that it would never be.

Greed was a sin, and you were guilty. You wanted more than just the fleeting stares and charged tension that drove you crazy with anticipation for something you knew was never going to come. You were sick of waiting around when it was so clear he wanted what you did, too: to cross that line you had been balancing on for so long now. You wanted to feel his skin underneath your fingertips and sink into your emotions instead of hiding them.

You wanted him.

The moonlight reflected off the candy tin that sat on your bedside table. Refusing to let yourself overthink this any longer, you picked it up and made your way to the living room.

Caleb was leaning back on the couch, legs spread, one arm draped over a cushion as his fingers drummed against it, and the other toying with the dog tag of his necklace. He hadn’t noticed you standing in the doorway just yet, his eyes trained on the tag pendant with something akin to reverence. He hadn’t even changed yet.

The sight made your breath catch.

How many nights had he sat like this, looking at that necklace the same way he looked at you? You didn’t want it to be the only part of you he thought he had, because you wanted him to have it all, just as you wanted all of him.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you padded over to him. Immediately, his attention snapped to you as he let go of the pendant, a faint smile tickling his lips at your intrusion.

“Is this the post-credits scene?”

Of course, he’d make a movie pun. Typically, his goofy one-liners would soothe any frayed nerves, but nothing of the sort happened this time.

“I just….remembered I haven’t given you your gift yet.” You said, mentally chastising yourself for how awkward your voice sounded. His eyes trailed over your figure appreciatively, taking in the sight of you in the dress that so obviously matched what he wore.

“Right.” He sat forward, rested an arm on his knee, and looked away from you to collect himself, before that easy-going demeanour of his resurfaced once more. The switch was so subtle that if you weren’t so well-versed in every little thing about him, you might not have caught it. “Well, I’m here.”

Biting your lower lip, you took another step forward and held out the tin of candy. A minute ago, using it as your excuse had seemed like a good idea, but not anymore. More than anything, you just felt silly.

Caleb blinked, taken aback at the way you thrust the tin in his direction. Scepticism bled into his expression as he stared at it, and then up at you, trying to figure out what you were playing at. He knew you like the back of his hand, and that included your tells for when you were hiding something, all of which you were currently exhibiting. From your shifty eyes to the way you were biting the inside of your cheek, he had seen it all before.

He took the candy tin from your hand but kept his eyes on you. The intensity of his stare made that hesitation you were fighting against surge back, and suddenly, you were once again questioning if this was a good idea at all. What if it was too soon?

“Now that you have your present, I should get to bed.”

You stumbled over the words clumsily, wanting to get them out as quickly as possible so you could leave and abandon what you had started. Honestly, why on earth did you never think turning yourself into his gift would be a good idea? More importantly, where the hell did you get the short-lived confidence to go through with it? Spinning on your heels to leave the room, you felt an embarrassed flush of heat curl up your neck and travel to the apples of your cheeks, ashamed of yourself.

He caught your wrist.

All these years, and nothing had changed about you when it came to wanting something but being too shy to ask for it. He had played dumb the whole day, despite being well aware of why your behaviour was so erratic. You were a language he was fluent in, and if there was one thing he was well-versed with, it was wanting you, and from the familiar look in your eyes that reflected what he so often saw in his own, he could only assume one thing.

But he didn’t do a damn thing about it. At the end of the day, assumptions were just that, no matter how glaringly obvious the answer might have been. He held you close, but he had the patience of a saint and would wait as long as you needed him to.

For a moment, he loosened his grip on your wrist, giving you an out. The silent question was crystal clear through his actions: you could leave if you really wanted to and go to bed….or you could stay.

The two of you had spent your lives running after one another, pulling and pushing, locked in a stalemate of your own making. This was the first time you had ever tried to break free from it, and the first time he had ever tried to keep you there with him. Every other time, he had taken a step back the moment you were spooked, but now….

You didn’t take another step.

When he sensed that you had made your decision, he tightened his fingers around you and pulled you back, closer, until you were perched on one of his legs. You flailed for a second, steadying yourself by placing a hand on his shoulder, the sudden closeness making your mouth go dry.

“You used to always watch me open your gifts.”

He was too close. He wasn’t close enough. The low, knowing timbre of his voice made your head swim, and you barely even noticed how he wrapped his right arm around your waist until he tugged you even closer while he spoke, “And say how much I like them.”

Suddenly, your nose was right by his, almost brushing against each other. Your sharp intake of air wasn’t lost on him, nor was the way you rushed to compose yourself, readjusting your position on his lap so that you weren’t all up in his face. His arm remained secure around your waist, helping you maintain your balance on his thigh.

Caleb popped open the lid of the tin and held it out to you, pinning you in place with a single look. “It’s not midnight yet. Don’t leave me, not until my birthday’s over.”

Keeping you close had always been of utmost importance to him. You had grown accustomed to him asking you to stay, not to leave, as if he lived every day thinking that you might.

You were determined to prove him wrong. Picking up a yellow piece of candy from the scatter of other colourful ones inside, you pressed it to the seam of his lips and fed it to him, not daring to break eye contact even for a second, lest it break the spell both of you seemed to be under. Caleb winced once it was on his tongue and narrowed his eyes at you playfully, but there was no mistaking the heat that lay just under the surface of his gaze.

“Lemon flavoured,” he scoffed, equal parts disbelief and amusement, placing the tin on the coffee table. “Whenever you give me candy, it's always the sourest one.”

Hand back on his shoulder, you succumbed to his gravitational pull and leaned a little closer. “Don’t you like sour things?”

Growing up, you had watched him always grab the sour-flavoured things, from candy to even the sodas he had. Every time he needed to concentrate on something, he’d chew on a lemon slice. He had even suggested that little trick to you several times, insisting that it worked, and you watched and took it all in, just like you did for everything about him. You tucked the information away in your mind and subconsciously made use of it.

So now, with the way he called you out, you found yourself wondering if he even liked sour things. Caleb saw through your misconception immediately, biting back a smile at your evident uncertainty. The tartness of anything sour helped him focus and grounded him to the moment, but it was by no means a preference. If anything, it was a reflex, one he had developed over the years of denying himself anything sweet.

And the sweetest thing of all was you.

“I think I’ll look forward to more changes after we celebrate this birthday.”

Emboldened, you brought your hand to his mouth, gently brushing the pad of your thumb over the plush of his lower lip. “You can give it to me if you don’t like it.”

This was as explicit as you were going to get when it came to asking for what you wanted so bad, and he knew it. The ball was in his court, and there was no turning back from here, not anymore. You watched as his gaze sharpened, peering into his horizon coloured eyes as his pupils dilated at the invitation concealed in your words.

His palm found your jaw with such gentleness that it astounded you, causing you to stiffen under his touch. It wasn’t as if he had never touched you before – your relationship (or lack thereof) had always been pretty physically affectionate, so the proximity should not have made you so nervous, but this was so starkly different from every other time he had invaded your personal space. This felt far more intimate than anything you had ever experienced before, and your breath hitched in your throat when he leaned in, a quiet sound escaping him.

Helpless, frantic even, needing you like he needed air to breathe. It encompassed everything you felt for him and more. For a brief moment, the world seemed to stand still. Time wasn’t real and didn’t have any impact on either of you as your breaths mingled and a heavy silence settled. His gaze, dark and telling, dropped to your lips, ones you had swiped lip gloss on in naive hope of this, his own parting as he looked into your eyes once more.

And then, when the clock of life resumed its course, Caleb dipped his head and pressed his mouth to yours.

You had imagined this happening dozens of times, even before you fully understood the depth of your feelings for him, but your little daydreams didn’t come close to the real thing. Your mind screeched to a grinding halt the moment it happened because holy shit, Caleb was kissing you.

But the rest of you? The rest of you acted on instinct, all that pent-up yearning for this exact moment coming out all at once. His lips were slightly chapped, but you didn’t care. There was an unmistakable sense of tentativeness to the way he kissed you, only going so far as to press his lips to yours over and over.

You could hardly believe he was actually kissing you, after all the times it had almost happened, only for him to pull away last minute, and that disbelief translated into your body language. Hesitantly, you lifted your hand from his shoulder, letting it hover there awkwardly for a couple of seconds as you kissed him back. Your scattered thoughts slowly came back to you, coalescing until all you were thinking of was him.

When you were sure it was real, you curled your fingers around the nape of his neck and pulled him closer.

Something shifted in that moment, something that neither of you could ever come back from and didn’t particularly care to. A sigh of relief escaped his lips as he slanted them over yours, before pulling away just enough to be able to look you in the eyes, half-lidded and swirling with longing. He dragged his thumb over your cheekbone, caressing you like you were a work of art, a marble statue that he was lucky enough to touch, and tilted his head to the other side, capturing your lips once again.

There wasn’t a single trace of his earlier hesitation in this kiss, and the contrast made your head spin. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you melted into him, hyperaware of every little thing he did, and how he tugged you into him. Caleb sucked your lower lip in between his, his tongue sweeping across the plush of it and chasing after yours. You could taste the sour aftertaste that lingered as he plundered your mouth with a desperation that mirrored your own and was still, somehow, controlled. His grip on your face tightened ever so slightly, and you faintly registered him gulping.

Did he just–

Did he just swallow the fucking candy?

When the two of you broke apart, you knew right then and there that everything had changed. One glance at him revealed to you just how wrecked he was from the kiss, breathing heavily and eyes burning with an intensity that had your lungs empty themselves of all the air inside them.

“Y/n.” Caleb’s voice had gotten lower, huskier. “I know that’s not your gift.”

Of course, he had figured it out. It wasn’t like you had been subtle about it, but you felt caught nonetheless, cheeks flushing with tell-tale warmth. Your flustered state only seemed to egg him on further, with him tucking a lock of your hair behind your ear as he continued. “I’ll twist your words on purpose and use them to catch you.”

Although he phrased it like a confession, it wasn’t like this was the first time he was doing it. You were well aware of his habit of driving you into a corner to get you to speak your mind, after all, he had done it all day today, and yet you still indulged him. He and you were two sides of the same coin, crazy about each other in ways that others would never be able to understand, but unable to let it show outright for the longest time. Now that it was all out in the open, a newfound sense of confidence surged through you.

“Go on then,” You pushed him onto his back by his shoulders, your hair falling around your face and framing it like a halo as you gazed down, savouring the surprise that flickered in those all-consuming eyes of his. “Show me what you’ve got.”

Caleb’s earlier self-assuredness seemed to fade at your assumption of control in that moment as he stared up at you, wide-eyed and wanting. You took advantage of the moment, for it wasn’t very often that you left him tongue-tied, your palm cradling the side of his face.

“Wherever you are, what I always want is for you to be drawn to me…” The words left you in a delicate whisper, like a sinner confessing to her wrongdoings, kissing him chastely as if you were trying to imprint the moment into your memory. “With the weakest gravitational pull.”

Now that was a real confession, one that he had spent most of his waking moments wishing for but never expecting to happen. One edge of his mouth curled upwards in a half-smile.

“Gravity can’t be held responsible for people who fall in love.” The statement took root in your very soul, and it was like a weight had rolled off your shoulders at the acknowledgement. You loved him, so deep and true, and had spent what felt like an eternity fighting against those feelings. In this moment, however, you felt as light as a bird, as if that gravity he had so rightly accused you of blaming had vanished. He reached up, tracing the side of your face with such devotion that it made your chest ache.

“I’ll remember more than just this.” A promise that he sealed by pressing your knuckles to his lips affectionately. “I’ll always remember that these things came from you.”

You, who were his every dream and wish for as far back as he could recall. All those years of wishing for you on his birthday, hoping that he’d one day have you like this as he blew out the candles, had turned into reality. When morning came, he wouldn’t have to hold onto rapidly fading memories of that fleeting dream anymore.

You descended upon him eagerly, resuming getting lost in him before he even had the chance to hold you properly. While Caleb had years under his belt when it came to practising restraint and keeping his feelings in check, yours were painfully fresh, effervescent in ways you couldn’t control just yet. They bubbled over the top, bursting forth like soda from a thoroughly shaken bottle.

When the two of you inevitably rolled off the couch, you almost laughed at the absurdity of it, but he didn’t give you the chance with how demanding his kisses were. One hand cradled the back of your head to make sure that you didn’t get hurt, because he was your protector first, and everything else came after. You barely registered one of you hitting the edge of the coffee table, causing the candy tin to fall off, all its contents scattering around on the floor.

Nothing else mattered, just you and him.

Caleb braced himself over you, pulling away from the temptation that was your mouth to look down at you. Fingers intertwined with yours as he pressed the back of your hand against the floor, he couldn’t stop doubt from rushing back in, because how could this be real? It felt too good to be true, even though the warmth of your hand under his told him that he was wide awake. He focused on how your hands looked when interlocked, thinking back to all the times he had only let himself hold your hand in secret, when you were asleep and none the wiser.

A single piece of hard candy rolled over to where your hands lay – lemon flavoured, because of course it was. A scoff escaped him at the irony, but its clattering pulled him out of his scepticism-addled mind.

“See?” He lifted your other hand and pressed it to his chest, the spot right over where his heart lay. “This is how you draw me in every time without fail.”

He took your chin between his index finger and thumb, not allowing you to respond as he kissed you again, but it was different this time. It was slow, like he was taking his time to memorise how you felt against him. The pendants of his necklace clinked against each other and grazed your collarbone, the cool metal serving as an anchor and keeping you somewhat grounded.

There really wasn’t much space between the coffee table and his couch, which resulted in the position both of you were in right now, with him in between your folded legs. The realisation made the temperature in the room go up several notches, and you squeezed his hand before whispering against his lips.

“Happy birthday, Caleb.”

His breath hitched as he pulled away, making a show of leaning back to sit on his heels and rubbing a hand over his face. “Y/n….”

The heat in his voice was not lost on you, making you grin. You propped yourself up on your elbows, batting your eyelashes innocently, as if you were completely unaware of what you were doing. “What? I can’t wish you now?”

But Caleb was well-versed in all your little games, having been the one to play them for the majority of his life. “You can,” He murmured, resting a hand on your knee. “You know very well you can do anything you want to me.”

What the hell. How could he say such a thing so casually? You felt positively insane at the combination of his words and his palm on your skin, your dress riding up your thighs just a tad. He knew what you were playing at, and if the air between him and you had been heavy with unresolved tension before, it was borderline electric now.

“This is more about what you want. It’s your birthday.” You reminded him of the fact, waiting with baited breath for the choice he would make. It was probably past midnight at this point, but you didn’t care, and the sentiment remained the same.

He hummed, his hand slipping down your leg to your calf, over the thin fabric of your knee-high socks. “I think I want to kiss you all night.”

An indignant sound from your end. “Thats it?”

You were pouting. He couldn’t help but chuckle at how adorable you looked right then.

“You underestimate how long I’ve been waiting to kiss you,” He said earnestly, before his tone switched into something much more patronising. “What? Were you expecting something more?”

You sat up properly, pulling your legs to yourself and levelling him with a glare. “You’re so–”

Caleb tutted immediately at your withdrawal, knowing fully well he was pushing your buttons and enjoying every second of it. He reached out, hands on your waist as he pulled you towards him once more– and you let him, quickly adapting to his lap. “Play nice. Can’t be mean to the birthday boy, now can you?”

“The birthday boy is annoying.”

“And you’re still here, aren’t you?”

As if you’d rather be anywhere else. As if you’d choose anyone else to be with. You huffed, spreading your hands out over his chest as you tried to tune out the impatient voice in your head that wanted you to take his jacket off. You settled for straddling him instead. “I can leave. Go to bed.”

“You won’t.” The smirk that decorated his mouth, a mouth that you had just kissed, was nothing short of devilish. If you were standing, your knees would have buckled at the mere sight of it. “You don’t want to.”

Well. He got you there.

Caleb let his fingertips wander, slipping under the hem of your dress and caressing the skin there with a maddeningly light touch. Leaning forward, he turned his head to your neck and let his lips brush against your earlobe, delighting in the shiver it sent through your smaller frame.

“Do I get to unwrap my present now?”

Any smart retort you had about wanting to leave flew right out of your mind at his question, the smooth cadence of his voice having anticipation thrum through your veins. It was the way he sounded so sure of himself that riled you up even more, that previous heat rushing back and dancing in the minimal space between both of your bodies, present even with his incessant teasing.

All you could manage was a sharp nod, your desperation for him returning with a vengeance. The heat emanating from your skin was like a drug to him, one that he couldn’t help but indulge, his lips brushing against your pulse point and breathing against it, making you feel near feverish.

“Words,” he instructed, like they were an easy thing to form while he slowly made you lose your train of thought. “I need you to say you want this, pretty girl.”

He was insane to think that you didn’t. You wet your lips, flustered. “I want it.”

You could feel his lips curl upwards against your skin, one hand sliding up your side and to your shoulder. He then paused, simply toying with the ribbon there for a couple of excruciating seconds, before finally tugging and undoing the bow you had tied. One side of the top of your dress slipped a little lower, and all you could do was bite down on the plush of your lower lip as he repeated the action on the other side, simultaneously loving and hating how he was taking his time.

The shimmery blue fabric dropped to your midriff, revealing your second surprise: a pale blue lacy bra adorning your skin, a pretty thing you had purchased for the sole purpose of driving the man you were currently sitting atop crazy. He pulled away from your neck, his eyes widening by a fraction as his gaze turned smouldering, his entire form stiffening as he took in the sight of it.

“Fuck,” he rapsed out, “Are you trying to kill me?”

“You don’t like it?” You cocked your head to the side, knowing damn well the opposite was true and acting coquettish to cover up just how violently your nerves were acting up despite that fact.

“I like it too much. That’s the problem.” He pulled his gaze away from your lace-clad chest, forcing himself to look you in the eyes and allowing you to see the depth of the emotion that lay in his. It felt as if you were looking right at the heel of a fire as it consumed everything in its path, molten and heavy. To call it desire would have been a disservice, because it was clearly so much more than just that. It was barely concealed longing and awe, and the very thing you had been fighting for as long as you could remember.

It was love.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he repeated, his hand coming up to cup your jaw with tenderness that had your heart stuttering. “God, you have no idea how long I’ve been imagining this for.”

Vulnerability cut through the haze of lust that had enveloped him and you, and you were struck by just how quiet his voice had gotten. How he looked at you like you were some divine being he had the blessing to be in the presence of, devoted and mesmerised all at once. Had he always stared at you with such reverence?

“Caleb…” He shook his head as you trailed off.

“I just–” he swallowed thickly, struggling to get the words out. You recognised the look in his eyes, that barely concealed restraint they always possessed when you got too close, just before he’d pull away and shut down. “I don’t want this to be just–”

“It won’t be. It isn’t.” You caught wind of where he was going with this and shut it down immediately. “Caleb, I don’t just want this, I want you. All of you.”

Exhaling slowly, he let his hands drop to your waist, squeezing lightly. When he spoke, his voice was gravelly. “I’ve imagined you saying that too.”

You wrapped your fingers around his tie, tugging him closer until his nose brushed against yours and you were almost kissing again, but not quite. He was in his head, and you were determined to pull him out of it and bring him back to the present. “Show me what else you’ve imagined?”

He didn’t have to be asked twice.

Caleb met you halfway, kissing you like he was making up for all the times he couldn’t. His lips travelled down your jaw and to your neck, every little nip he gave your skin sending sparks shooting down right to your core. You squirmed in his lap, tipping your head to give him easier access, your obvious eagerness earning a groan in response.

Like a flip had been switched, he lifted you off of him, resuming his earlier position of him being on top as your back met the carpet on his floor once more. His kisses turned hot and open-mouthed, leaving trails of warmth along your fevered skin as his lips moved lower, teeth grazing the junction where your neck and shoulder met. The simple, barely there contact had a shudder run through your body, and you gripped the lapels of his jacket, needing something to hold onto you.

“Can I touch you?” He asked softly, never wanting to cross any lines you weren’t comfortable with. The thought of him touching you made your head spin, and at your dazed nod, he slowly pushed the skirt part of your dress up, letting it bunch up around your waist. Arousal pooled in the pit of your stomach, hot and sticky, its tendrils spreading through your lower body and leaving your panties damp.

Panties that, upon seeing, had him cursing under his breath. They matched the bra you wore, telling him just how much you had thought about because– shit, you were in a matching set of lingerie.

“Yeah, you’re trying to kill me,” he muttered, dropping his head to your chest. You couldn’t help the breathy giggle that left you, the strands of his inky hair tickling the skin of your collarbone. “You’re stunning. Is this all for me?”

“Do you see anyone else around?”

“Good to know you still insist on sassing me even like this,” he muttered wryly, his hand wandering up your thigh and dipping onto the inner side of it. Before you could think about refuting that statement, he began kissing the swell of your breast, trailing downwards and then wrapping his lips around your clothed nipple. Wetness from his tongue seeped through the lace as he swirled it around the already-stiff peak, and as if on instinct, your legs fell further apart, eyes screwing shut.

He hummed, evidently pleased at your reaction, tugging the bra cup holding your other breast down, exposing the pillowy flesh underneath. Shifting his attention from the one he had been teasing, he gave your other nipple the same treatment, licking, sucking and teasing until you were writhing underneath him, breathing shaky and uneven.

Caleb dragged his fingertips up the tantalising expanse of your inner thigh, inching closer to where you wanted him most as he continued his ministrations on your breasts. Running his teeth over your nipple, he gently bit down on the sensitive peak, catching you off guard and drawing out a needy whimper from the back of your throat.

“Caleb,” you barely recognised your voice with how whiny you sounded. “Please just–”

But the rest of your impatient plea would never be heard, because he chose that exact moment to slip his hand up the rest of your thigh and press his fingers against your clothed core. You sucked in a sharp breath, your hips jerking into his touch desperately.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he mumbled against your overheated skin. “Have you been like this the entire time?”

“Yeah,” you admitted, far too turned on to be embarrassed by the fact. “Please hurry up and do something.”

He shot you a wolfish grin at your whining, rubbing the pads of his fingers against your covered folds and gaining a feel for just how desperate you were for him. You looked so fucking pretty like this, spread out and wrecked even when he had barely done anything to you yet, and still begging him for more. The sight was something straight out of a wet dream to him, every bit as sinful and perfect as he had imagined. “So impatient. Won’t you let me take my time with my gift?”

“We have the whole night for you to take your time,” you shot back, and the implication made his eyes darken considerably. Without wasting another second, he pushed your soaked panties to the side and dipped two fingers in between your folds, letting out a disbelieving puff of air now that he could feel how wet you were directly. Slick collected on his fingers, he swiped it through, bringing it up to your already sensitive clit and applying just the right amount of pressure to make you mewl.

“The whole night, huh?” Caleb kissed the hollow of your neck, and then higher. “Showing you everything I’ve imagined might actually take that long.”

You scrambled to grasp at his arms as he began to rub your clit, your entire body reacting to the touch it was programmed for him and him alone. He watched in fascination, drinking in every lovely sound you made, from delectable sighs to restless moans. It wasn’t like he intended on being a tease, but he couldn’t help it, drunk on your reactions and wanting to see how many he could draw out of you.

Caleb let his finger wander back down your folds, swiping it up, down, and through your wetness over and over until you were squirming. The wet sounds had your cheeks burning, nails digging into the stiff fabric of his blazer as you whined.

“Stop–”

“Stop what?” he taunted, his nail pressing into the underside of your clit. The sound that evoked was one you didn’t even think you were capable of making, eyes going wide and desperate.

“–teasing,” you breathed out. “Stop teasing. I need more.” More of this. More of him.

That was all it took.

He slid a finger in, almost hypnotised by how smooth the glide was, a disbelieving scoff leaving him as he once again acknowledged just how wet you were. Your mouth fell open, a satisfied gasp escaping it as he buried said finger knuckle deep inside of you. Around him, you were warm and wet and so unbelievably tight that he felt himself grow harder, straining his pants but not caring about it for a second, so transfixed with you.

His finger was longer than yours, brushing against spots that yours never could. He moved it slowly, pumping in and out of you at a pace that was both dizzying and infuriating before easing in a second one.

Just when you were about to complain again, he crooked his fingers inside your cunt, and you moaned, “Oh fuck.”

“Feel good?” he pressed a kiss on the spot under your ear, breathing the words against it. “This what you wanted, baby?”

The new nickname had you clenching around him as you nodded furiously. He smirked triumphantly against your skin, increasing the motions as he finger fucked you, revelling in how your body responded so compliantly, truly made for him.

“Yes, yes. Please don’t stop.” You hiccuped, too lost in the sensation of his fingers dragging against your walls to form a coherent thought. It was the way you were looking right now, half-closed eyes caught between intense desire and a certain drowsiness only pleasure could bring about, dress all bunched up around your midriff– a mess, but a beautiful mess regardless.

Caleb had always been terrible at refusing you, so why should he start now? If you asked for something, he’d do anything to get you ten of them. Spoiling you was his favourite pastime, but he was starting to realise that he loved it even more like this, when you were begging him for something only he could deliver.

When your legs began to tremble, his resolve steeled further, wanting more than anything to push you over the edge. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he mumbled, greedily mouthing at your breasts again. “Love making you feel good.”

His thumb found your engorged clit, rubbing deliberately heavy handed circles onto it. The squeal you let out was so cute, and he angled his fingers a little bit, watching as a shiver spread over your body and your eyes widened.

A broken wail of ecstacy made its way past your lips as you tumbled over the edge, gushing around his fingers and growing so tight that it had his cock throb at the thought of being inside you. Your pussy was like a vise, sucking his fingers in deep, and he shamelessly indulged you, helping you ride out your high. Once he was sure it was over, he pulled his fingers out and nearly groaned at the sight of your release coating them.

Suddenly, the heat was unbearable. He shrugged off his jacket and grabbed at the knot of his tie, holding part of the fabric between his teeth and yanking the other end until it came undone.

Witnessing this had two things happen to you at the same time: the first being your sharp inhale, and the second being the rush of desire that flooded your system all at once, shocking yourself with the magnitude of it all. Entranced, you watched as he discarded the tie and popped his collar, only snapping out of your reverie when you felt his fingers curl around your ankles and tug you closer.

Fuck.

Within seconds, his shirt was off, allowing you to unabashedly stare at the definition of his abs. You let your eyes wander because, wow, Caleb had always been extremely attractive, but the effects of it seemed to be hitting you all at once.

Having rid himself of part of his clothing, he turned his attention back to you, taking note of the appreciative glint in your eyes. You were perfect, so perfect for him in every single way, and he was going to make sure you knew it before the night was over. He found the mess of your dress and tugged it up and over your chest, uttering a single instruction.

“Up.”

You obeyed immediately, sitting up and letting him pull the material off of you, letting it join his discarded clothing without another care. After all, it was always meant to be peeled off of you, the perfect wrapping paper. Your shoes came off next, and you didn’t know which end of the room they landed up in. Left in only lingerie that barely left anything to the imagination, you had never felt so exposed and somehow still in control at the same time, because being vulnerable with Caleb was like second nature to you.

“You look so pretty,” he cradled your face in his palms, voice soft and sincere. “I almost don’t want to take it off.”

“Almost,” you noted, teasing. He smirked down at you, snapping the strap of your bra against your shoulder.

“Almost,” he repeated, confirming that he was going to take it off anyway. He knocked your knees apart and settled in between them, resulting in you being eye-level with his chest, the silver of his necklace glinting in the dim lighting of his living room.

And oh my god.

“Holy shit,” you muttered, a little awed. “It actually has gotten bigger.”

Caleb laughed, flicking your forehead as he gently pushed you back down, climbing over you and planting a kiss at the place he had just struck.

“Did you think the robot assistant lied?” Amusement coated every syllable, a little muffled as he kissed your cheek, and then your lips, propping his index finger underneath your chin to angle your head better.

“No,” you finally responded when he shifted his attention to your neck, sucking at the skin and leaving pretty little marks that would turn purple all over it. “Just confirming. You didn’t exactly let me check earlier.” You could feel his lips curve into a smile as he kissed down the valley of your breasts.

“Been thinkin’ about that all day, have you?” He glanced up at you from where he was, eyes alight with mischief. Caught, you decided to evade that question, sighing blissfully as he continued his path down your body.

Until you realised where he was heading.

“Wait, what are you–?”

“You have no idea,” He whispered reverently against your skin, methodically working his mouth over every part of it he could, like your body was a map he was attempting to commit to memory. “Just how long I’ve wanted this, wanted you.” His tongue flicked out occasionally, grounding you to the moment every time you felt yourself fall deeper into a daze. “Was sitting here and thinking of you, cravin’ you so bad. I do it almost every night.”

Every night. The idea made you positively woozy, cementing the fact that all the insanity you had felt in your apartment back in Linkon– it had been mutual. On some level, you had always known it had been, but hearing it like this, in such an intimate setting, made you feel braver.

“Me too.” A breathless admittance, and it was the truth. It had always been the truth, even before you knew it.

Caleb looked up at you, both his hands slipping underneath your shins and gripping lightly. “I’ve wanted to hold you for so long, to kiss you and hold you and taste you–” he said in a manner that made it seem like he didn’t quite believe he was doing so now, rambling earnestly. “–fuck, can I taste you?”

He paused, letting the question weigh down on you. His path down your body made sense now, and you swallowed, trying to ignore how your pussy ached at the thought of it as you meekly whispered.

“You don’t have to.”

“Have to? Baby, I want to,” he kissed the spot just above your hip. “I’d beg if you asked me to.”

You were so incredibly shy all of a sudden, overwhelmed by the sheer level of power he constantly loved placing in your hands. You recognised this was his way of ensuring you knew he was unequivocally and absolutely yours, and it set your blood on fire. Before you knew it, you found yourself surrendering.

“Okay.”

Without wasting another second, he pulled those pretty panties of yours off of you, albeit a little regretfully, and tossed them to the side as he settled in between your legs. Faced with your bare pussy, Caleb was convinced that he had died and gone to heaven already, unable to get over just how pretty it was, all flushed and glistening with need. You felt intimidated by how intently he was looking at it, trying to squirm away, but he held you there, large hands keeping you nice and spread out as he began peppering kisses over the expanse of your thighs.

Then, without so much as a warning, he positioned your legs over his shoulders and licked a stripe up your cunt. Your gasp rushed straight to his head, much like how all his blood seemed to rush south. The taste of your slick made him groan, the sound so uncharacteristically filthy that you could feel yourself flush at hearing it, flattered and scandalised all at once.

His tongue was tentative in its exploration of you at first, lapping at the wetness that seemed to trickle out of you uncontrollably like it was the finest of wines. He dragged over your entrance and up to your clit, flattening against it.

“Oh,” you mewled, fingers tangling in his hair and tugging lightly. “Oh, fuck.”

The sensation of your nails lightly scratching against his scalp sent a delighted shiver down his spine, and he tightened his hold on you. He stroked his tongue over the bundle of nerves, once, twice, and continued doing so until you were whimpering uncontrollably. You were still sensitive from your previous orgasm, and this was almost too much too soon, but it felt too good to protest.

Caleb looked at you from where he was, as your fingers carded through the front of his hair and pushed it back, giving him the perfect view of you. Maintaining eye contact, he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked harshly, a deep sense of satisfaction spreading through his chest when he saw how your eyes snapped shut in pure ecstasy and your jaw fell open, crying out his name so loud.

Your back bowed off the ground, heels digging into his shoulder blades, torn between pulling him closer and attempting to push him away. He was determined to make sure you knew how much he was enjoying this. He groaned, and the vibrations from it elicited a moan from you in return, the two sounds coming together and forming a harmony of pleasure.

“Caleb,” the way you whined his name was so perfect and breathy, he nearled cummed right there and there.

His wicked mouth continued to work you over the edge, and when you felt his finger prod at your entrance again, you squealed. The sounds coming from your pussy were borderline obscene with how wet you were, your slick mixing with his spit, coating your inner thighs as well. You felt that tug in your gut again as the coil pulled tighter and tighter, on the precipice of shattering.

It was so, so good, but greedy as you were, you wanted more.

You tugged at his hair, gently at first and partly out of your need to hold onto something tangible to grip onto to stay grounded, before pulling harder, guiding him away from your cunt.

Amusingly enough, it looked like he was offended at being parted from it, but maintained his gentle tone. “Somethin’ wrong?”

“I think I’m close again.”

Caleb raised a singular eyebrow. “Sounds like everything was right then.” The pout on his lips would have been kind of adorable if not for the way your arousal coated his lips and chin, a sight so erotic it made you wish you could capture it somehow.

You let your hands drop to his neck, pulling him back up from between your legs. “I want to come with you.”

A hungry look entered his eyes, and he tongued his cheek. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you echoed, trailing your hands down his chest and abs, your nails grazing his skin with just the right amount of pressure to get him to shudder lightly. You stopped at his waistband, toying with it as your gaze flickered between it and his eyes, silently asking for permission. The ability to have an entire conversation with a single look was something he and you had mastered a long time ago, and this was no different.

Caleb swallowed and nodded. “Okay, okay. Yeah. I want that too.”

You pushed him to the side, catching him a little off guard as he settled on his back. Sitting up, you straddled him once more, busying yourself with unfastening the button of his dress pants and unzipping them. He caught the slight tremble of your hands and smiled softly, pushing your hair out of your face and pressing a shockingly tender kiss to your forehead. Considering the situation, the contrast of it coaxed a nervous laugh out of you.

“You’re distracting me,” you mumbled, turning your face into his hand and leaning into his touch. He played coy, thoroughly amused.

“Am I?”

“You know you are,” your hands were splayed out on his lower torso as you took a breather, overwhelmed. He didn’t care in the slightest, pulling you closer and resting his forehead against yours.

“I love being your distraction,” he hummed. “That’s how I know you’re paying attention to only me.”

A kiss to the side of your mouth brought all that confidence back. You straightened, pushing his pants down past his hips and repeated the action with his boxers, revealing his erection.

Flushed and painfully hard, it stood up against his stomach and made your eyes widen, because – holy shit – he was big. Your mouth went dry at the mere sight of it, and he tilted his head to the side, continuing in that soft cadence. “You okay?”

Shit – maybe you should have been the one asking that, because being that hard for presusmably this long had to have been extremely uncomfortable for him. Still, there he was, checking in on you instead.

Your sweet, perfect boy. The man you loved.

“I’m good,” you wet your lips, meeting his eyes and finding out just how much he was holding back right there, the purple of his irises almost entirely gone with how blown out his pupils were. “Can I– can I touch you?”

You caught his Adam's apple bob and wanted to bite it.

I’ve only ever been yours to touch, his thoughts screamed back at him as he watched you wait for his response, but his tongue seemed to have trouble catching up to his mind at the moment. Everything about this was surreal to him, with you reciprocating everything he felt and showing it for the first time. “Yeah, you can.” He said after a beat, and then, as an afterthought, he added, “Please.”

Gently, you reached out and wrapped your fingers around his cock, feeling the weight of it in your hand. You didn’t miss the way he inhaled sharply, sucking air in through his teeth at the touch. His eyes fluttered shut, long eyelashes that you envied kissing the skin under his eyes as he tipped his head back.

Seeing him like this spurred you on even further. You moved your hand a little, up his length, teasing his tip and the slit that leaked precum, spreading it around with your thumb. It made a mess on your palm, but made it easier for you to glide back down his cock, relishing the way he hissed in pleasure.

Caleb jerked his hips into your fist instinctively, evidently trying his hardest to hold back his sounds, only letting the slightest of moans slip past his lips. You were having none of it, tightening your hold on him as you moved your hand, suddenly feeling playful. Leaning forward, you brushed the tip of your nose along his neck before pressing a kiss against his heated skin.

“Let me make you feel good,” you mumbled, syrupy sweet in your manner of speaking. It was the same tone you used to use with him every time you wanted to get your way, but instead of your usual puppy eyes, you settled for planting lazy kisses on his neck.

“God–,” he sounded so strained, “Wait, I– fuuuuck”

You were aching for him at this point, now that you could feel him and imagine how he would feel. You ran the pad of your thumb over the vein on the underside of his cock teasingly, sucking on his pulse point, tasting the salt of his skin on your tongue. Briefly, you entertained the thought of lowering your mouth even further, until you had his tip in your mouth and–

Caleb caught your wrist, panting heavily. “Okay. Stop. No more.”

“I barely did anything?!” You protested, and he chuckled airily.

He breathed out your name, and it was completely intoxicating, an octave lower than usual and rough. “If you do anything more, I’ll come.”

“But–”

He turned his face, nose brushing yours as he breathed against your lips. “I’m not coming on your hand the first time we do this.”

Assertive. Firm. Your train of thought came to a sharp halt, puddling into a mess of incoherence as lust took over. You nodded eagerly, crashing your lips to his again in a messy kiss, all tongue and heat and a desperation for each other that somehow hadn’t burst at the seams yet, but was about to.

Another roll over, and the two of you were so far away from the spot you started in. Caleb was on top again, both of you caught up in your feverish lip lock. Your hands were in his hair as you pulled him as close as physically possible, and he reached behind you, finally unhooking your bra and letting it fall off, joining the rest of your discarded clothing.

Caleb lifted your legs and hooked them over his hips, his fingers pressing into the flesh of your thighs as he licked into your mouth. He pushed his hips forward, pressing his cock against your dripping folds and rocking aimlessly, coating himself in your slick. The feeling of the head of his length rutting against your clit had you make a keening sound, one that he swallowed greedily, echoing with his own moan.

This was real. It wasn’t a dream, your nails scratching against his biceps told him as much. You bucked your hips up against his, and the feeling of you, so wet and soft, was enough to make him feel delirious.

“You’re perfect,” he said drunkenly. “My perfect girl.”

Oh.

Hearing him say it like that was something else. Calling you his, speaking it into existence to remind himself of the fact as much as it was to remind you, not bothering to ask the question first because there was no need to. Asking you to be his was trivial, especially when both of you knew you already were.

He hiked your legs even higher as his tip caught at your entrance, nudging at it but not pushing in just yet. Those few seconds were torture, almost what you wanted but not quite. Not yet.

One more kiss. A dulcet whisper of ‘yours’ falling from you.

When he finally sank into you, it was slow, and you could feel it everywhere, your nerve endings on fire. The stretch burned deliciously, a momentary flash of discomfort that he distracted you from with another intense kiss, until it melted into pleasure. Your pussy eagerly welcomed him, hot and velvety around his cock as he inched his way in, even when taking his time was proving to be a difficult task. You felt unimaginably good, and when he glanced down between the two of your bodies, the sight of him half buried inside of you was enough to make him go a little light-headed.

Caleb buried his face in the crook of your neck, deeply inhaling your scent as you pawed at his arms, producing pitchy little whimpers that sounded like music to his ears. A particularly impatient rut of his hips later, he was finally all the way in you. All you could manage were shallow breaths, feeling so full that it made it hard to think straight.

“Y/n,” there was that drunken lilt to his tone again, muffled against your shoulder. “God, fuck, you feel incredible. I could do this all night”

His words came to life in your mind, and you moaned, positively high off the praise, your walls pulsing around him happily as you adjusted to his size. “Yes.”

“Yes? You like the sound of that?” He encouraged you to elaborate, even though he knew how your state of mind had to have been then, reduced to nothing more than a puddle. Your entire body was impossibly flushed, and he massaged your hips soothingly, feeling how tense you had gone, clenching hard.

Caleb moved his mouth to your ear and whispered, “Relax for me, baby, you’re squeezin’ me so tight.”

You forced yourself to let go of some of that tension, breathing deeply to keep yourself at least a little bit relaxed. He kissed your pulse point, feather light, as he pulled all the way out until only his tip remained inside of you. The loss made you whine pitifully, feeling uncomfortably empty now that you knew what it was to be full of him. Lifting his head from your neck, he couldn’t help but smirk when you wiggled, silently begging for more.

“So impatient,” he tutted condescendingly, squeezing your waist. The glare you threw his way was weak.

“You–”

He promptly shut you up with a deep, measured stroke, ensuring that you felt every single inch of him as he did. Whatever scathing quip you were about to fire at him flew right out of your head, replaced with a humilatingly wanton cry of his name, nearly sobbing in relief when he repeated the action. He had always been like this, pushing your buttons until they were completely undone.

“I…I don’t think I’ll last long,” you warned breathlessly as he rolled his hips into yours, arching off the floor when you felt him even deeper than the last thrust. Your previously building climax had resumed its course, all that sensitivity coming back all at once.

“I know, I can feel it.” His hand slipped down your thigh to the curve of your ass, lifting your hips slightly and leaving absolutely no space between the two of you.

As if to prove his point, you felt yourself clench around him again, getting even wetter when the head of his cock briefly brushed against a spot inside you that had you seeing stars. You lolled your head to the side, shutting your eyes as you focused on how he was fucking you. He dropped back down, his body dwarfing you as he buried his face in your hair, hips rocking against yours. The space between you, or lack thereof, felt heavy with your mutual need and something else.

Bodies flush against each other, chest pressing against his– suddenly, this wasn’t about pleasure anymore. Your breaths and heartbeats converged into one, skin to skin and connected in the way both of you had longed for, all that waiting and wanting coming to a head in this fragile, beautiful moment. Every gasp was a proclamation of your feelings, spilling clarity over them in a way that words never could. He was yours just as much as you were his, two souls melding into one.

You would never be separated again.

The words sat on the tip of your tongue, a mere eight letters forming all three of them. They should have been easy to say, but you found yourself holding back, not wanting them to come out like this. Caleb's fingers found yours, intertwining with them and squeezing as he pressed the back of your hands into the carpeted floor. Heavy emotion mixed with the sheer levels of bliss coursing through your veins as he moved inside you, steadily climbing to the peak of its crescendo.

When you came, it was much more intense than the first time, your mind dissolving into a jumbled mess and a ragged moan of his name leaving your throat. You got so tight around him, causing his pace to stutter, and then slow down a little bit, switching into shallower thrusts. For your sake, you realised.

“We– we can stop if it's too much,” he muttered, but the desperate rutting of his hips against yours told you a different story. He hadn’t come yet, and though you were so sensitive to every little movement of his now, it felt too good to want it to stop. You felt insatiable, wanting him to fall apart just as you had and to be the one he fell apart for.

So you choked out hoarsely, “More.”

“Fucking hell,” his voice had taken on a tone you had never heard before, “Are you sure?”

Instead of responding verbally, you locked your legs behind him, dragging him deeper into your soaked cunt and mewling at the feel of him.

And then, because you could never resist pushing his buttons, you purred, “Didn’t you say you could do this all night?”

Caleb’s eyes snapped to yours, narrowing slightly at the taunt. The air crackled with a newfound intensity, contrasting the sweet intimacy that you had just shared with him, slipping into darker territory. “I did,” he drawled, pulling out completely before snapping his hips to yours again, the roughness of the move a stark difference from his previous gentleness. You were helpless to the intense waves of pleasure washing over you while he fucked you, succumbing to them with an enthusiastic groan. “You want that, huh? Want me to fuck you all night?”

The way he phrased it was filthy and so wrong in all the right ways, a dark lilt injected into his tone. Seemingly knowing the effect it had on you, he let go of one of your hands, cupping one of your breasts instead. Instinctively, you arched up into his touch, and he grinned, rolling your nipple under his fingers before pinching it. He savoured the way you whined, wishing he could permanently imprint the sound in his memory as he continued to tease the pebbled bud, tugging and flicking it. His ministrations only amplified the ache between your legs, despite you being quite literally stuffed full of him.

“Come on,” he taunted playfully. “Say it. Say you want me to fuck you all night.”

A rush of shame curled around you, the vulgarity of the statement having you exhale sharply. You reached up and pulled him back down into a kiss, hoping it would distract him, and for a couple of seconds, it seemed like it did. He hummed contentedly, but then broke away and pinched your nipple again, this time harsher than before.

“Say it, or I stop.”

That was wholly counterintuitive, especially since that meant he would essentially be blue-balling himself. However, your ability to think logically had flown out the window a long time ago, and you shook your head desperately when he actually began to slow down a little, rolling your hips upwards and babbling.

“I want it– want you to fuck me all night.”

“Good girl.”

Oh, you definitely liked that, judging by the way your pussy fluttered around him so eagerly. His messed-up hair fell into his eyes as he set a punishing pace, groaning at how silky smooth the glide was. At how you fit together so perfectly.

And god, you looked absolutely debauched, a vision with your flushed skin and red marks littered all over your neck and chest. The sight of you like this had to have been the very definition of sin, glossy eyes and pathetic little whimpers falling from kiss-bitten lips that encouraged him to fuck you even harder. He forced himself to look away, glancing down at the spot where the two of you were connected and watching how his cock disappeared in you, your cunt hungrily gripping and sucking him back in every time he rocked away.

“Look at you,” He crooned, notching himself in you completely and staying still for a few, cruel moments.. “Look at your pretty little pussy taking my cock so well. It’s like you were made for me.”

Your sensitivity from the overstimulation had circled back to pure need by now, and an agonised moan left those swollen lips of yours at the stilling of his movements. Your nails dug into his skin, the sting making him hiss. His cock throbbed inside of you, so, so close to coming undone. When you curved off the carpet, he splayed a hand over your stomach and took a moment to admire how large it looked against you, before pressing down firmly.

“Caleb, please,” the look you threw his way was addictive, so desperate and wanting. How could he ever refuse you, especially when you were looking at him like that?

“Anything,” he dropped his mouth to yours, breathing out against it and pinning your hips down. His hand on your stomach slid lower, dipping into your folds, dragging your slick up to your engorged clit and rolling it between his fingers. Your shriek of surprise and pleasure was nothing short of delightful. “I’ll give you anything and everything you ask for.”

Caleb began rutting into you again, angling his hips slightly differently now, going even deeper. As a result, he brushed against that spot that had you seeing stars once more, and you cried out.

“Oh my god, right there– please don’t stop, please, please–!”

His grip on your hips turned bruising, sure to leave marks, but neither of you cared in the slightest, lost to the overwhelming pleasure. He fucked into that spot over and over, lewd, wet sounds echoing through the living room every time his body met yours. Your vision blurred as you clawed at him, so far gone.

“Won’t stop,” he groaned, reassuring you that he was now done teasing. “Y/n I– god– stay with me, okay?” He was borderline frantic with his thrusts now, his composure having crumbled away completely and leaving you with a frenzied man, chasing his high and determined to give you another, drowning in the depths of his own emotions. “Don’t ever leave me.”

It was a statement he had spoken several times before, between the lingering stares and tight embraces that lasted a little too long. Constantly asking you to never leave him, holding on so tight in fear that he’d lose you. Somehow, in the midst of the haze of bliss you were caught in, you managed to catch on to what he was saying.

“Never,” you whimpered, cupping his face and holding him close. “I’m never leaving you, I’m yours.”

Caleb nuzzled into your touch and pressed his forehead to yours. “And I’m yours.”

He littered burning kisses over the expanse of your neck, pressing them to your chin and cheeks as well, spilling his affections onto every bit of you that he could. Your fingers found purchase in his hair once more, tugging and using your hold to angle his face so that you could kiss him again.

With one final pass of his fingers over your clit, your third orgasm slammed into you. You sobbed out his name through the waves of euphoria that crashed through your body, setting your entire body alight from the top of your head to the tips of your toes. Caleb helped you ride through your high, grinding into you and drawing out the white-hot pleasure that licked at you so tantalisingly. It felt as if you were falling into the abyss, but as always, he was there to catch you.

Caleb came shortly after, unable to hold off any longer with the way your pussy clamped down on him, tight and hot and demanding in the most delicious way. His thrusts slowed down as he lazily rode his high, pumping into your trembling form slower. Your walls spasmed, and he grunted, pressing his lips to yours and muffling your whines.

The kiss veered into something much softer, just a breathless brush of your lips as you calmed down, head descending from the clouds. He pulled out gently, humming softly when you hissed and pressing his lips to your forehead in lieu of an apology.

“You’re incredible,” he said quietly. Silence ruled the room for a couple of seconds; the only thing you could perceive was the quickened beating of your heart, and every spot where his skin touched yours. Nothing but him existed in the little world you had created for yourselves, and the two of you stayed like that for a bit, basking in each other's warmth.

“Caleb,” you murmured his name, the syllables feeling heavy on your tongue. The words you wanted to say so badly stuck in your throat, and your vocal cords refused to cooperate. Those sunset eyes of his found yours, captivating in every sense of the word, and he lifted your hand to his mouth, kissing the back of it tenderly.

“I know.” He whispered. “I know.”

But he didn’t. How could he, when you had taken so long to figure it out yourself? He looked at you so lovingly that it made your chest hurt, and you let out a shaky sigh, overwhelmed by how ardent your feelings for him were, how real and messy and intense. You felt like a lone ship out at sea, but Caleb was that lighthouse in the distance, leading the way back home. He was the sun high up in the sky that brightened your days, coaxing you out of the dark and into the light, and you’d gladly burn just for the chance to stay close to him.

And so when your lips met and your thighs straddled him once more, there wasn’t any teasing. He smiled into the kiss and cradled the back of your head as you descended further into the darkness, into your feelings and into him.

The sun was rising.

Early morning breeze slipped through the gaps in the windows of his balcony, but you barely felt the chill, focused on the way the glass reflected your figures. The slowly brightening sky made it seem as if both of you were bathed in a warm glow, and with how you were leaning back against him, you felt that glow within, too. You traced the outline with your finger, feeling the condensation catch and drag, dripping down the window panes.

Caleb pulled you back into his arms, lying down with you, his hand rubbing soothing circles on the small of your back. You settled on your stomach and propped yourself up on your elbows. In the hazy morning light, you took a moment to study him.

“It feels like a dream.”

His gaze was steady when it found yours, his voice soft in an almost awestruck manner. “You dreamed about me before?”

“Of course. I dreamed you called yourself a dummy and promised to follow me around like a little tail.” You couldn’t help letting a quip slide now that the heat from just minutes ago had subsided. Now, you were clad in his shirt, the very same one he had discarded so eagerly, and he had on pants, but was shirtless. You reached out and touched the dog tag pendant of his necklace, toying with it between your fingers.

Caleb was a man of his word; you always knew that, but you had learned just how determined he could be that night. As promised, he remained entangled with you all night, until your joint gasps and moans of pleasure had imprinted in your memory. It was the culmination of all those years of waiting, hoping, and wanting so hopelessly, and he showed you all of it. You let him, digging your heels in the dirt and refusing to run away anymore.

He scoffed in amusement, trailing his touch upward and gently massaging your shoulder blades. He looked so lovely like this, dishevelled hair and cheeks flushed pink from the exertion of your earlier activities. A choked-up feeling invaded your throat as you got serious, dropping the pendant.

“I also dreamed that your signal was lost in a tunnel. There was only darkness, nothing else…” Your eyes hardened as you thought back to your fear of losing him and how badly the explosion had shaken you. Part of you didn’t know why you were bringing this up again, but the other half made it crystal clear: all that grief and fear was a fundamental stepping stone in your relationship with him. In order to admit it, you had to let it all out. “And then….I couldn’t find you anymore.”

Your voice was small and unrecognisable. You interlaced your fingers together and swallowed the lump that was steadily building in your throat. You felt him shift a little closer, closing his larger hand around both of yours and squeezing.

“That day will never happen.”

His touch was comforting, the motion of his thumb rubbing against the back of your hand bringing you an inexplicable sense of peace. “Losing signal, not being able to see what’s around me– none of that matters.” He dipped his head closer to yours, his lips curving upwards just slightly. “My flight path is in your hands, and I already know my destination before I take off.”

His voice was soft, like he was afraid to speak any louder lest it break you. Your breath caught, lower lip quivering at how sweet he was. You were speechless, but that was okay, because he wasn’t done. “There’s only one place I want to reach. It doesn’t matter what obstacles stand in my way.”

Caleb lifted one of your hands, pressed a kiss to your knuckles, and you almost fucking cried from how tender the action was, the emotion in your chest practically bursting out of it. Then, he pressed your palm against his heart and whispered, despite him and you being the only two people around, so reminiscent of the way he’d let you in on secrets when you were children.

“Its coordinates have been recorded here a long time ago.”

How had he dissolved all your lingering anxiety so easily? It felt as if he had caught it and tucked it out of your sight. Suddenly, you felt light again, and everything you had been trying so hard to say burst forth. Keeping those feelings to yourself for any longer would drive you crazy, and you needed him to hear them coming from you straight.

“I love you.”

The three words tumbled out of you gracelessly, but that imperfection made it real. Your vulnerability made your voice tremble, but you didn’t care, and neither did he. You saw the light in his eyes brighten and his grin widen as he pressed your hand against his chest harder, letting you feel how his heart sped up.

You had called him the sun, but if he was the sun, then to Caleb, you were the moon. Incandescent, radiant, beautiful and for the longest time, it truly did feel like he had been chasing you through the skies, only to have to settle with glimpses at interludes and intervals when the evening reigned. Having to keep his love for you to himself during the day and letting it breathe during the night, when no one could see it in the dark. Now, those two celestial bodies collided, and the result was a supernova.

And it was as easy as breathing for him to say: “I love you, too.”

A watery giggle left you as you leaned forward and rested your head on his shoulder, nuzzling against him. He turned his face, resting his cheek against your forehead for a couple of seconds..

“I didn’t get to make a wish before blowing out the candles at the restaurant. Can I make one now?”

A perplexed look took over your features, and he had to resist kissing the furrow of your eyebrows away. “You had your eyes closed for so long, but you didn’t make a single wish?”

Although you were making fun of him for it, you got to your feet and padded to the kitchen, ignoring the soreness between your legs as you grabbed a cupcake. Finding a candle, you inserted it on top and lit it, before making your way back. As you plopped down, you asked, “Do you want me to sing ‘happy birthday’ again?”

He sat up and shook his head. “No, it's okay. I already know what I wanna wish for.”

Caleb cupped your hands that held the cake, leaning forward. The flame on the candle flickered as your only witness to this precious moment, and his infectious smile spread to you. You could see yourself grin in the reflection of his eyes, and it only made you smile wider, subconsciously leaning in as well.

“I wish we’ll always fly under the same sky and be in each other’s lives.” He glanced at the candle. “And I’ll wish that every year, I’ll follow these coordinates on this day as I venture through the darkness. All because they’ll lead me back to you.”

You were beaming when he blew the candle out, eyes shining with how deliriously happy you were. It was a look that, up until this point, he had only ever seen in his dreams. Placing the cupcake down, you drew closer and settled into his arms again. It was a new day, his birthday was over, and he was a year older, but none of those changes were the ones that mattered. This was the only one that did.

“In that case,” you whispered, nose brushing against his as you looked into his eyes. “I’ll wait for you to find me every year.”

The sun had risen, and for the first time, Caleb didn’t have to wake up.

fin.

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supermyeon22 · 13 days ago

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[Translated Comic] Hot Nerd

Original artist: Coins_the (RedNote: Coins)

Source ll Permission

❀ Please do not repost ❀

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supermyeon22 · 1 month ago

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save a cow ride a boy or what um save a uh ride a horse no its save a uhh guys who we saving

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supermyeon22 · 1 month ago

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To be honest I prefer the blue dress with the blonde hair and the pink dress with the brunette... Either way, she's gorgeous 👀👀❤️

#love and deepspace #lads #lnds #lads mc #lnds mc #love and deepspace mc

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supermyeon22 · 2 months ago

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supermyeon22 · 2 months ago

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supermyeon22 · 2 months ago

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Nobi Rabbit Collaboration: Cute Love Wish Tree Event

Date: 24 May 2025 to 4 June 2025

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supermyeon22 · 2 months ago

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My sweet and Bratty MC, I love you so much

And she looks so well in that yellowish dress 🥹

#love and deepspace #lads #lnds #lads mc #lnds mc #love and deepspace mc

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supermyeon22 · 3 months ago

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All the dresses are absolutely gorgeous. I love when infold takes the time to design beautiful outfits ❤️❤️

#love and deepspace #lads #lnds #lads mc #lnds mc #love and deepspace mc

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supermyeon22 · 3 months ago

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She's angry Bcs he refused to come home

But he finally came 😭😭😭😭😭

#love and deepspace #lads #lnds #lads mc #lads caleb #love and deepspace caleb #lnds caleb #lnds mc #love and deepspace mc

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supermyeon22 · 3 months ago

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Love and DeepSpace x Harper's Bazaar Collaboration

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supermyeon22 · 3 months ago

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𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄 ⋯ 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐌𝐈𝐃-𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓

𝐗𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐑

The tension between you and Xavier had been building for the past ten minutes. The living room felt smaller with each passing second, the space between you charged with unspoken frustrations. He remained still as always while you gesticulated wildly, your frustration mounting as you paced back and forth.

“You can’t just disappear for hours without telling me, Xavier! I was worried sick!” Your voice cracked on the last word, betraying how genuinely frightened you’d been.

He stood with perfect posture by the window, hands clasped behind his back. “I apologize. I was helping a neighbor downstairs with their computer system. Time escaped me.” The words were perfectly reasonable, delivered in that maddeningly measured tone he always used.

His calm demeanor only fueled your irritation. How could he be so composed when you’d been imagining the worst? Fatal accidents. Hospital rooms. All the terrible possibilities that had played through your mind on repeat.

“That’s not the point!” you snapped, closing the distance between you. “This is the third time this week you’ve vanished without a word. Do you have any idea what that feels like? To call and text and get nothing back?”

Standing this close, you noticed subtle changes in his expression—his eyebrows furrowed slightly and the corner of his mouth turned down just enough to be noticeable. The tiny muscle along his jaw twitched, and you caught the quickening pulse at his neck despite his outward composure. These microexpressions—so small anyone else would miss them—revealed the emotions he struggled to articulate.

“I didn’t intend to cause distress,” he said quietly, and for once, his voice carried a hint of genuine regret. “The repair was more complex than anticipated. The family had lost access to critical medical records.”

“Oh, so you’re suddenly a mechanic or something?” You exhaled sharply, running your hands through your hair. “Just... call next time. Or text. Anything.”

His eyes met yours, searching. “The thought didn’t occur to me. That was... an oversight.”

Something in his admission—the rare acknowledgment of an emotional mistake rather than a logical error—made your frustration shift into something else entirely. You suddenly become aware of how close you were standing, you can faintly smell the subtle scent of his cologne. Your anger was still there, but beneath it stirred something warmer.

Without thinking, you stepped forward, fingers gripping the soft fabric of his hoodie, and pressed your lips firmly against his. For a moment, everything froze—the argument, your racing thoughts, even time itself.

Xavier went completely still, clearly caught off guard by this abrupt change. You felt the slight intake of his breath against your lips, the momentary tension in his shoulders. Then, like ice melting in the sun, he yielded. His shoulders relaxed, and his hands—initially hovering uncertainly—found their way to your waist, steady and warm through the fabric of your shirt.

The kiss lingered longer than you’d intended, your anger dissolving with each passing second. His lips were surprisingly soft, with the faint taste of the mint tea he always drank in the evenings. What had started as impulse deepened into something tender, the physical connection saying everything words had failed to express between you.

When you finally pulled back, his eyes were wider than usual, pupils slightly dilated. Xavier’s carefully composed expression had cracked completely open, revealing vulnerability you only got to see. A flush colored his cheekbones, making him look younger, more boyish.

“What was that for?” he asked, his voice softer than before, slightly breathless in a way that made your heart skip.

“I... I don’t know,” you admitted, equally breathless. “I’m still mad at you, though.” The declaration lacked conviction even to your own ears, and you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips.

He nodded slowly, thoughtfully, as if processing a complex equation. His thumb traced a gentle circle on your hip where his hand still rested. “I understand your concern,” he said finally, each word carefully chosen. “Next time, I’ll message you.”

You sighed, feeling the last remnants of your anger slipping away. “I just... when I couldn’t reach you, I imagined all these terrible scenarios.” Your forehead dropped against his chest, suddenly exhausted from the emotional whiplash.

“That hadn’t occurred to me, because I usually came back just fine,” he admitted quietly. His arms encircled you fully now, pulling you into an embrace. His heartbeat was steady against your ear, reassuringly present and real.

“Though if this is how our arguments conclude,” he whispered, that subtle teasing tone emerging that only you ever got to hear, “I might be tempted to provoke them more often.”

You smacked his chest lightly, but couldn’t help the laugh that escaped. “Don’t you dare.”

“Noted,” he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “Though I make no promises about forgetting the time again. But I will promise to let you know where I am.”

“That’s all I’m asking for,” you whispered against the soft fabric of his hoodie, breathing in his familiar scent. The argument had dissolved, leaving something stronger, more honest in its wake—another layer of understanding between you and this complex, fascinating man you’d fallen for.

𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄

The harsh fluorescent lights of the hospital cast everything in an unflattering glow, including Zayne’s stern expression as he worked on your arm. The sharp antiseptic smell permeated the air, mingling with the metallic tang of blood—your blood—that had soaked through your uniform.

“Hold still,” Zayne commanded as he dabbed antiseptic on the gash along your arm. The cool liquid burned against the raw wound, making you inhale sharply.

You winced at the sting but tried to maintain a brave face. “It’s just a scratch,” you said dismissively, though the throbbing told a different story.

His eyes flicked up momentarily from his work, dark with barely contained emotion. “A ‘scratch’ that nearly severed your brachial artery,” he countered, his deft fingers working methodically on the sutures.

You watched his hands as he worked—steady, precise movements born from years of practice. The precision of his gestures contrasted sharply with the tightness around his eyes and the muscle jumping in his jaw. The silence between stitch pulls felt heavier than artillery fire.

“What were you thinking, charging like that without proper clearance?” he finally asked, voice too controlled, too measured to disguise the emotion underneath.

With each stitch, you could feel his conflicting emotions—the methodical doctor warring with the man who clearly cared for you more than he wanted to admit. His eyes remained focused on the wound, but the tension in his shoulders spoke volumes.

“I had intelligence that couldn’t wait,” you defended, though your voice lacked conviction. The pain medication was making it hard to maintain your stubborn front, and his proximity was distracting. Zayne had always been handsome, but there was something about the intensity of his focus, even while angry, that made your pulse quicken in ways that had nothing to do with your injury.

Zayne’s jaw tightened visibly as he reached for the surgical thread again. “Intelligence. Right.” He tied off a stitch with perhaps more force than necessary, making you flinch. His eyes immediately softened with regret for causing additional pain, though his voice remained stern. “And that intelligence was worth risking your life?”

“The mission was—”

“The mission would have failed entirely if you’d bled out in that alley,” he cut in, his voice sharp as a scalpel. “Do you have any idea what it was like—” his voice wavered, “—knowing you’re out there, but not knowing if you’d come out alive?”

The question hung in the air between you, heavy with implications. The rhythmic beeping of medical equipment filled the silence, counting the heartbeats where neither of you spoke. You hadn’t considered that perspective—hadn’t thought about Zayne possibly remembering other battlefields where he’d arrived too late.

As he reached to wrap your arm, you noticed the slight tremor in his usually steady hands. It was subtle—anyone else might have missed it—but you knew those hands too well. They had patched you up countless times, had grabbed you out of harm’s way, had steadied you during your hard times. Now they betrayed his composure in a way his disciplined expression never would.

“You could have died,” he said more quietly as he smoothed the bandage over your skin, his fingers lingering a moment longer than necessary.

Something in his vulnerability made your chest tighten. The walls you’d both maintained through professional necessity suddenly seemed absurd in the face of how close you’d come to never seeing him again. The realization hit you with unexpected force—what if this had been your last interaction? An argument in a sterile hospital room?

Without overthinking it, you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his, effectively silencing his lecture. You felt his momentary surprise, the stiffening of his shoulders before something like surrender washed through him. The kiss was gentle, an apology and a reassurance wrapped into one. His lips were surprisingly soft against yours.

For a suspended moment, the hospital, the mission, the injury—everything disappeared except the point where you connected. His hand came up to cradle the side of your face, careful to avoid jostling your injured arm. The professional mask he wore so carefully had slipped entirely away, revealing the vulnerability underneath that only you were trusted to see.

When you pulled back, his expression had transformed. The stern doctor was gone. His breath came slightly faster, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that made your heart race.

You gave him your best innocent look, trying to lighten the suddenly charged atmosphere. “Doctor, am I going to make it?”

For a moment, he appeared stunned, lips slightly parted in surprise, a flush rising from beneath the collar of his medical coat. Then he exhaled slowly, the tension in his shoulders visibly releasing. The corner of his mouth twitched upward—not quite a smile, but getting there.

“Your prognosis is favorable,” he murmured. He finished securing the bandage, his touch had gentled considerably. “But I’m prescribing close observation for the next twenty-four hours. My office would be the appropriate location for such monitoring.”

He leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, then traced a path down to your lips again. This second kiss was different—unhurried and deliberate, carrying promises neither of you had voiced aloud. You felt the last of his anger dissolving.

You smiled against his lips, victory achieved. “If that’s your medical opinion, Doctor.”

“It is,” he said, carefully helping you sit up. His hand lingered at the small of your back, steadying you. “And next time, wait for backup. Please.” The ‘please’ was barely audible, a rare moment of naked vulnerability.

It was a plea from someone who couldn’t bear the thought of losing you.

“I promise,” you said softly, reaching for his hand and giving it a gentle squeeze.

𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐋

“Three hours, thirty-seven minutes, and—” Rafayel checked his watch with exaggerated timing, spinning around to face you as you entered his studio, “—fourteen seconds. That’s how long I’ve been waiting.” He threw his hands upward. “Do you know what I could have done in that time? I could have watched Titanic. I could have baked a soufflé—actually, no, three soufflés! I could have learned the basics of Spanish!”

You closed the door behind you, exhaustion evident in your movements. Your muscles ached from the tension of the mission, and your uniform still carried the faint smell of smoke and sweat. The emergency operation had taken everything out of you, but Rafayel was clearly in no mood to be sympathetic.

“I’m sorry, Rafayel. The situation was critical and—”

“Critical enough to not send a single message?” He crossed his arms, leaning against the wall. He paced the room with exaggerated steps, hands gesturing wildly as if conducting an invisible orchestra of grievances. “We had plans. Specific plans that involved a sunset and a dinner reservation that I can’t get back. Do you know how many strings I had to pull? How many favors I called in?”

You dropped your bag with a heavy thud, wincing as your bruised shoulder protested the movement. “Rafayel, please—”

“The restaurant had a two-month waiting list!” He spun again, his silk shirt billowing slightly with the movement. “The chef was going to prepare that ridiculous flaming dessert you like—the one with the sparklers that always makes you smile like a child at a festival.” His voice softened momentarily before hardening again. “I even wore the shirt you like. The one that’s actually uncomfortable but makes my eyes look nice or whatever.”

He wasn’t wrong—the color of the silk did make his eyes look particularly striking, even now as they flashed with indignation. You noticed he’d styled his hair as well, and the realization that he’d put such effort into the evening made your heart twist with guilt.

“There wasn’t time to message anyone,” you explained, sinking onto the couch, too tired to remain standing through his complaints. “The comms were jammed. We barely made it out at all.”

Rafayel narrowed his eyes, studying your face for any sign of deception. “Oh, so it’s technology’s fault now?” He threw his hands up again, accidentally knocking a decorative vase that he caught with surprising reflexes before it could shatter. “Humans and their excuses. Always something or someone else to blame. ‘The sun was in my eyes! The dog ate my homework! The communications were jammed during my super-secret mission!’”

He set the vase down with care despite his agitation—a reminder that for all his dramatic flair, Rafayel was actually quite meticulous. “Next you’ll tell me there were explosions and car chases, like some absurd action movie.”

The accuracy of his sarcastic guess made you hesitate just long enough for his eyes to widen.

“Wait, there were actually explosions? And you’re just walking in here like it’s nothing?” Something flickered across his face—genuine concern breaking through the outrage—before he quickly composed himself again. “Well, that’s... that’s beside the point! The point is I was abandoned. Left to wither away on my own.”

Despite your fatigue, irritation sparked. “I didn’t exactly choose to be ambushed and pinned down for two hours! I wasn’t having fun, Rafayel!”

“And I didn’t choose to sit alone at that ridiculous restaurant while the waiter gave me pitying looks!” he shot back, voice rising as he threw himself into the armchair across from you. “Do you know how humiliating that was? Waiting and waiting while everyone whispered about the poor abandoned man? The maître d’ actually patted my shoulder, like I was some... some tragic figure!”

He ran a hand through his perfectly styled hair, mussing it in a way that somehow made him look even more attractive—an infuriating talent he seemed unaware of. “I ordered wine. I checked my phone approximately nine thousand times. I made up elaborate excuses about my date being a super great hunter called into an emergency mission to save Linkon City.”

The genuine hurt beneath his outrage became suddenly clear. Behind the dramatic gestures and exaggerated language was real pain—the vulnerability of someone who had been genuinely worried.

You rose from the couch, crossing the small space between you. He continued his rant, though his voice lost some of its conviction as you approached.

“And then I had to walk home alone, past all those disgustingly happy couples who—”

You stepped forward, cupping his face in your hands, and pressed your lips firmly against his. You could feel the exact moment his indignation melted, his body language transforming from rigid offense to relieved surrender. For a moment, he remained stiff, clearly determined to hold onto his righteous anger. Then, with a small sound somewhere between a sigh and a groan, his arms encircled you, pulling you closer until you were practically in his lap.

The kiss tasted faintly of the expensive wine he’d mentioned—he hadn’t been exaggerating about waiting at the restaurant, at least. His fingers tangled in your hair, gentle despite his earlier theatrics, cradling your head as if you were something precious he’d feared losing.

When you pulled away, his pout remained, though considerably less convincing. His lips, slightly reddened from the kiss, contradicted his attempt at maintaining his anger. His fingers traced your cheekbone with a gentleness that contradicted his dramatic words—the clearest sign that you’d been forgiven, even if he wasn’t ready to admit it.

“This changes nothing,” he mumbled, even as his fingers gently traced patterns on your back, discovering and carefully avoiding the spots where you’d been injured. “I’m still upset.”

“I know,” you acknowledged softly, resting your forehead against his. “And I really am sorry about dinner. I know how much trouble you went through to arrange it.”

“You should be,” he huffed, but then rested his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your face. “Do you have any idea how worried I was? The things I imagined? You could have been hurt or—” He stopped himself, swallowing hard.

“I’m okay,” you assured him, brushing your thumb across his cheekbone. “A few bruises, nothing serious.”

His eyes searched yours, seeing through the minimization. His hand found the tender spot on your shoulder that you’d been trying to hide, his touch feather-light. “Liar,” he said softly, with none of his earlier accusations. “You’re hurt.”

“It’s part of the job,” you reminded him gently. “But I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“A job that consistently interrupts my meticulously planned romantic gestures,” he complained, but his voice had lost its edge. His fingers moved from your shoulder to your neck, then to your face, as if reassuring himself that you were really there, whole and safe. “But I suppose I’m glad you weren’t permanently damaged. That would have been extremely inconvenient for my future plans.”

𝐒𝐘𝐋𝐔𝐒

“You seem distracted today,” Sylus remarked, watching you from across his office room in the Onychinus’s base. His voice carried that peculiar blend of observation and judgment that never failed to set your teeth on edge. “Something troubling that brilliant mind of yours?”

You’d been on edge all morning, his casual observations hitting every nerve. The mission report in front of you blurred as you tried to focus on anything besides his piercing gaze from across the room. Each time he passed behind your chair, you could feel his presence like electricity, deliberately invading your space as if testing your limits.

“Nothing’s wrong,” you replied tersely, gripping your pen tighter.

“Clearly.” His lips curled into that infuriating smirk that made you want to either slap him or— No. You refused to follow that train of thought. “That’s why you’ve been glaring daggers at the same report for twenty minutes. Fascinating reading material, is it?”

“I’m concentrating.” You made a show of turning the page, though you hadn’t absorbed a single word from the previous one.

“On setting it ablaze with your eyes, perhaps?” He chuckled, the sound rich and smooth like aged whiskey—a sound that would be pleasant in any other context, from any other person. He pushed away from his ornate desk, crossing the room with that grace that seemed to define his every movement. “Come now, sweetie. You know I can see right through you.”

Your grip tightened on your pen until your knuckles whitened. Today, his typical banter felt like sandpaper on raw skin. The weight of the failed mission hung heavy on your shoulders—a mission he’d asked you to accompany him. The subtle way his eyes had followed you since your return suggested he knew exactly how it had gone wrong, and was simply waiting for you to admit it.

The mission had been stressful enough without his commentary, and you’d specifically chosen to work in his office for the quiet atmosphere, not the running commentary. The irony wasn’t lost on you—seeking peace in the devil’s lair—but the alternative was the bustling common areas where questions about the mission would be impossible to avoid.

“Perhaps it’s the negotiations?” he continued, leaning against your desk, invading your personal space with calculated precision. The subtle scent of his cologne—something expensive and custom-made, no doubt—wrapped around you like an unwelcome embrace. “Your strategy was... unconventional. Though I must say, watching you attempt to outmaneuver your opponent was quite entertaining. Like watching a chess novice challenge a grandmaster.”

His words struck with precision, targeting exactly where you felt most vulnerable. The negotiations had fallen apart spectacularly, though not for lack of preparation on your part. Sylus had blamed it on a few of his henchmen, he’ll deal with them later for forgetting to mention some details that caused you to stress yourself out.

“Or maybe it’s that little encounter with one of my rivals the day before yesterday?” he pressed on, leaning closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that forced you to incline toward him despite yourself. “I heard of how that meeting concluded.”

That was the breaking point. The pen in your hand snapped, ink staining your fingers like evidence of a crime. In one fluid motion, you stood from your chair, the sudden movement causing Sylus to straighten, a flash of surprise crossing his features before his customary smirk returned.

“Would you just—” The words caught in your throat, frustration making it impossible to articulate exactly what you wanted from him. Silence? An apology? Some acknowledgment that he’d set you up to fail although it’s not entirely his fault?

Instead of finishing your sentence, you grabbed his perfectly pressed collar and yanked him down, crushing your lips against his. It wasn’t gentle or sweet—it was pure frustration translated into action, teeth clashing, fingers gripping fabric tight enough to wrinkle the expensive material.

The stunned widening of his eyes gave you a flash of satisfaction—finally something had caught the ever-composed Sylus off-guard. For a heartbeat, he remained completely still, his usual grace abandoned in genuine surprise. Then his hand moved to the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair as he responded with unexpected intensity.

What had started as an impulsive act of defiance quickly transformed into something more. The kiss deepened, his other hand finding the small of your back, drawing you closer with surprising strength. Heat bloomed where his fingers pressed, spreading through your body like wildfire. The taste of him—bitter coffee and something sweeter underneath—was intoxicating in the worst possible way.

When you broke away, breathless and disoriented, you glared up at him. “Shut. Up.”

For perhaps the first time this week, Sylus appeared genuinely caught off balance. His usual perfect composure had slipped, collar askew, a hint of color high on his sharp cheekbones. Something flashed in his eyes—surprise, certainly, but also something darker, more intense that made your pulse quicken despite yourself.

Rather than appearing offended, Sylus looked thoroughly entertained once he recovered, eyes gleaming with intrigue. He straightened slowly, adjusting his collar that drew attention to his long fingers.

“Well,” he murmured, voice slightly rougher than his usual polished tones, “that’s certainly one way to request silence.” His tongue darted out to touch his lower lip briefly, as if sampling the taste you’d left there. “Effective, if unorthodox.”

But true to your demand, he didn’t speak further. Instead, he returned to his chaise lounge across the room, picking up his own work with an amused expression that should have infuriated you but somehow didn’t.

The silence stretched between you, no longer suffocating. You returned to your report, finding it suddenly easier to focus with Sylus’s voice no longer needling at your concentration. Occasionally, you felt his gaze on you, but whenever you glanced up, he was seemingly absorbed in his own work, though the ghost of a smile played around his lips.

After you’d made significant progress through the stack of files, a steaming cup of your favorite tea appeared at your elbow without warning. The delicate china cup—part of an antique set Sylus guarded jealously—was filled with the precise shade and aroma that you preferred, complete with the exact amount of honey you favored.

When you looked up questioningly, Sylus merely raised an eyebrow, as if to say, ‘See? I can be helpful when not talking.’ His smirk had softened around the edges, a truce offering in the form of perfectly brewed tea.

Despite yourself, you felt a smile tugging at your lips. You raised the cup in silent acknowledgment, a momentary peace established in the aftermath of that impulsive kiss.

As you sipped the tea—prepared exactly as you liked it, proving he’d been paying far more attention than you’d given him credit for—you wondered which one of you had actually won this particular skirmish. Based on the satisfied gleam in his eye whenever he glanced your way, Sylus clearly thought he had the upper hand.

But as the afternoon wore on in productive silence, punctuated only by the occasional meaningful glance, you weren’t entirely sure you’d lost either.

𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐁

The drive back to Caleb’s apartment was suffocating with silence. Rain streaked across the windshield, city lights blurring into watery halos as he navigated the evening trafficking Skyhaven. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel, jaw set in that way that meant he was holding back words—a dam of frustration ready to break at any moment.

You stared out the passenger window, your reflection ghostly against the glass, unable to look at him directly. You’d avoided him for three days after the mission went sideways. Three days of ducking into supply closets when you heard his footsteps in the corridor, of swapping shifts with anyone willing, of ignoring the increasingly terse messages on your comm unit. It wasn’t rational—you knew that—but facing him after your mistake in the field felt impossible.

The car stopped at a red light, engine humming. Raindrops raced down the window, merging and separating like the strategies you should have coordinated better during the operation. In the reflection of the glass, you could see Caleb’s profile—strong jaw tensed, eyes fixed straight ahead, the small scar above his eyebrow more pronounced in the harsh street lighting.

Neither of you had spoken since he’d found you in the briefing room, simply saying “We need to talk” in that Colonel voice that brooked no argument. Now, pulling into the parking space at his building, you still hadn’t found the words to bridge the chasm between you.

He unlocked his door, letting you enter first. The familiarity of his place—the orderly bookshelves, the single plant you’d given him that somehow thrived despite his frequent absences, the subtle scent of coffee and cologne he wore—made your chest ache with a complicated emotion. You couldn’t meet his eyes, focusing instead around the room—everything in its place except for the emotions threatening to spill over between you.

The moment the door closed behind you with a soft click, the tension broke.

“Three days,” he stated, voice unnervingly calm as he set his keys in the exact same spot they always occupied on the entryway table. “No communications, dodging my calls, switching shifts.” Each offense listed with the precision of military charges being read.

You shrugged, aiming for casual while removing your jacket, though your hands betrayed you with a slight tremor. “I’ve been busy.”

“Lying doesn’t suit you,” he said, stepping closer, the controlled anger in his voice making it lower than usual. “Never has.” He moved into your space, not touching you but close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from him, smell the rain on his uniform mingling with his cologne. “I know exactly what you’re doing. Running away because you think I blame you for what happened.”

Your breath caught. Of course he’d figured it out—he always did. Caleb could read encryptions and enemy movements with uncanny accuracy, but his ability to decode your thoughts sometimes felt even more disarming.

“People could have died because of my call,” you whispered, finally voicing the fear that had been haunting you for days. Your hands clenched and unclenched at your sides, the phantom feeling of your weapon during that critical moment when everything had gone wrong.

“But they didn’t,” he countered. His voice remained firm but had lost some of its edge. “The team is safe. The mission objectives were achieved, if not in the way we planned.”

“That’s not the point,” you argued, finally meeting his gaze. The intensity there nearly made you step back. “I ignored direct orders—your orders. I put everyone at risk because I thought I knew better.”

“You made a judgment call in the field,” he corrected, running a hand through his rain-dampened hair. The gesture, so uncharacteristically nervous for him, revealed just how deeply the situation had affected him, too. “What I can’t accept is you avoiding me afterward. Avoiding the team. Avoiding the debrief where we could have addressed what happened.”

“And avoiding me doesn’t change what happened or help us prevent it next time,” he continued, his voice softening. “The team needs you. I need—” He stopped, seeming to catch himself. “The mission requires all officers and you, Miss Hunter, to be present for debriefing. That’s protocol.”

The retreat behind protocol stung worse than his anger. The distance he was deliberately placing between you—falling back on rank and procedure—felt like a physical wound. The intensity in his eyes was too much to bear.

Before he could continue his lecture, before he could retreat further behind the wall of Colonel, you surged forward, grasping his collar and pulling him down into a desperate kiss. The kiss was both surrender and defiance—an apology you couldn’t voice and a desperate plea to move past the wall building between you.

For a heartbeat, he remained rigid, hands stiff at his sides. Then, like ice thawing, he responded, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other wrapped around your waist, drawing you flush against him. The rain had chilled his lips, but they quickly warmed against yours, the taste of something uniquely him making your heart race.

What had begun as impulse deepened into something more profound. His fingers tangled in your hair, angling your head to deepen the kiss. The carefully maintained distance of the past days dissolved with each passing second, replaced by an urgency that spoke of relief and lingering fear—fear that the rift between you might have been permanent.

When you finally broke apart, both slightly breathless, his expression had transformed. The stern Colonel was gone, replaced by just Caleb—your Caleb—with unguarded emotion in his eyes. His shoulders relaxed for what felt like the first time in days.

“Don’t be mad at me like that...” you whispered. You could feel the rapid beat of his heart where your bodies pressed together.

His expression had softened even more, he could never stay mad at you for long, not when you looked at him like this.

“That won’t work every time,” he murmured, though the smile playing at his lips suggested otherwise. His thumb traced gentle circles at the small of your back.

“Seems to be working now,” you replied, relieved to see the anger dissipating like morning fog. You pressed your forehead against his chest, listening to his heartbeat gradually slow to its usual steady rhythm.

Caleb sighed, one hand still tangled in your hair, gently massaging your scalp in that way he knew always calmed you. The rain continued to patter against the windows. “You know why I was angry, don’t you?” he asked quietly, his voice rumbling through his chest against your ear.

You nodded slightly. “Because I disobeyed a direct order.”

“No,” he said, pulling back just enough to tilt your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Because you disappeared afterward. Because for three days, I didn’t know if you were okay—not physically, but here.” He tapped gently at your temple. “Missions go wrong. Plans fall apart. That’s the nature of what we do. But we process it together.”

“I thought you’d be disappointed in me.”

“I was disappointed you didn’t trust me enough to face me,” he corrected, his hand moving to cup your cheek. “We’re partners in this, in all of it. The good calls and the bad ones.”

“I promise,” you whispered. “No more running. No matter what happens, we face it together.”

Something in your tone must have convinced him, because the last traces of tension left his body. He pressed his lips to your forehead, the gesture tender in a way that made your heart ache.

“Good,” he murmured against your skin. “Because the next time you go dark on me for three days, I’m sending the entire squadron to find you.”

After five hours of writing with plenty of breaks (read: procrastination and distraction), and I finally finished my longest scenario yet. This ended up being one of my favorites, as I truly enjoyed the writing process and got completely carried away.

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