If Sylus had it his way, he would drown you in opulence and you would be waited on hand and foot every single day. If the moon were an attainable, tangible object, price would be the last thing on his mind if it meant being able to tether it directly to you so you were never without its beautiful glow. If you so much as mention liking a certain fabric or the way a shirt or dress hangs on a mannequin, Sylus will have it delivered to your home within 24 hours, tailored to your exact measurements.
It isn’t only about filling your life with extravagant things; Sylus considers it a personal failure if you go to bed feeling anything less than happy. When you have a rough day at work, Sylus encourages you to tell him immediately, because he wants to make it right in any way he can, even if it means listening to you vent about someone throwing your lunch out before you were finished or feeling like you’re not getting enough rest when the days feel longer.
As long as Sylus lives and breathes, you will want for nothing.
If only it were as easy to return the favor.
Sylus doesn’t refuse your affections or attempts to show him love in the same way, he just doesn’t see it as a necessity for you to dote on him. Taking care of you is something that comes so naturally to him that the idea that you might want to do the same every once in a while is not often a thought that crosses his mind.
When you try to cook for him, a look of concern tugs at his brows, pulling them inward, pinched and knit, making him seem sad you’re offering.
“No, sweetie, you’ve had such a long and busy day. I would never ask you to do that after you’ve worked so hard. Why don’t I have my chef make us something so we can spend a little more time together?”
”Sylus, I want to make something for you because you haven’t had a home-cooked meal in a few days, and -“
”We can do that some other time, hm? Let’s just relax for tonight. The chef has already gathered a selection of things for us to choose from, and he’s paid through the evening.”
Sylus isn’t forcing you to say yes, but you know he’s more concerned about your energy levels and well-being than he is what’s on the menu. You sigh, make a mental note to plan better next time, and ask Sylus which days the chef works so you can coordinate.
Sylus tells you that he’ll give you the schedule later.
He never does.
Always a provider and never one to accept charity, or at least, what he deems as charity, Sylus wants for nothing. If there’s something pressing that he needs, he always gets it for himself, and he’s been sitting on a variety of hobbies for quite some time. You ask him what kinds of books he’s been looking for, and he chuckles.
”Sweetie, I’ve got enough books to last me a lifetime. I’d be hard-pressed to get through a few of them with how busy I am, let alone all of those shelves.”
It’s his way of joking with you while maintaining his stance against accepting gifts. Due to his vehement opposition to material gifts and the fact that he’s not one to boast about his birthday, you’re left feeling rather anxious as the days approach, and you’re still empty-handed.
It’s a fool’s errand to ask Sylus if he needs anything, because he needs for absolutely nothing, but you try Luke and Kieran while Sylus works in his office. Their luck is just as bad as yours.
A day before Sylus’s birthday, the two of you are having a meal together, once again prepared by his chef, even when you’d asked if you could do anything. With an elegance not normal to any other human man, Sylus wraps his fingers around the handle of a crystal pitcher to pour some water for you.
”Thank you,” you say warmly, then decide that you just have to go for it. “Sylus, what do we have planned for tomorrow?”
Sylus gently nudges your water goblet towards you and looks thoughtful for a moment, like he’s trying to recall if there’s anything of importance he’s not remembering.
“I have some business to attend to, but I’ll be free in the evening. Was there something you wanted to do?”
“Just curious,” you say mildly, hoping you don’t sound suspicious. “You’ve been working a lot lately. Have you been feeling okay? Getting enough sleep?”
A small, sly smirk tugs at the corner of Sylus’s lips. He plucks the wine opener from the center of the table, digs the corkscrew into the top of a Chianti he’s been wanting to sample, and twists it to extract the cork. He let you try once, and the cork splintered and disintegrated into a fifteen year old cabernet that he assured you wasn’t that special. It was humbling when he had to pour the crimson liquid through an aerator funnel to remove the sediment, but he explained to you that it was better to decant the wine to let it breathe anyway.
You know he was just being nice about it.
Knowing you’re a little weary when it comes to new flavors, particularly with bold wines, Sylus pours you a small taster to make you feel included, then fills his own wine glass with a remarkably accurate six-ounce serving. He traces the stem with his long fingers until he reaches the base of the glass, then curls them around the bottom to swirl the contents.
”I’ve been feeling alright,” he finally says, bringing the glass to his lips. “Why are you worried about me?”
You take a sip from your own glass, and Sylus can’t help but chuckle when your lips pucker and your eyes crinkle into a disgusted squint.
“I see you’re not a fan of the Italian reds,” he muses as he puts his glass down, then rests his elbow on the table to prop his head up on his hand. “This particular one is from Tuscany. I’d love to take you someday. Perhaps we’ll avoid the wineries.”
Sylus puts on an excellent show, and he might be fine for the most part, but you know things weigh on him. His weariness lingers in the abnormal dullness of his eyes, and they present more vacant and subdued in a faded rust as opposed to the lustrous rubies you’re more accustomed to looking into.
”I’m not so sure I have the acquired taste necessary for this kind of thing,” you admit. “You haven’t been acting off, I just like to check in. Is that so bad?”
”Of course not, sweetie,” Sylus reaches over with his free hand, palm presented up for you to hold if you’d like.
His hand is warm and comforting in yours, and his fingers curl around the top of yours to keep it there. Though he never demands it, Sylus loves being able to touch you when he can, even in small doses. He craves your touch that grounds him more than anything, and you can see the way his shoulders relax as you slip your fingers between his.
“If you’re worried about us having time together, I can assure you that I’ll be home by five. You have my word.” Sylus promises you. “Since you don’t have work tomorrow, you can spend the night if you’d like so I can see you as soon as I get home.”
You feel a little silly that he’s doing this mostly for your benefit rather than to get a little bit of extra rest for himself, but at this point, you’ll take what you can get.
“That sounds perfect,” you reach for your wine glass again and lift it for him.
Sylus realizes what you’re doing, laughs, and gingerly picks up his own to clink against yours.
“This verbal contract is binding,” you say firmly.
”Of course - if you’d like, I can draw up some papers to put it in writing,” Sylus teases, and you roll your eyes.
”Just knock it off and drink your poisonous grape juice.”
The next morning, when Sylus leaves for the day, you wave him off with what you hope is a relaxed smile. He doesn’t seem suspicious or detect any kind of nerves that you feel like are practically radiating from your body. When the coast is truly clear, you immediately put your plans into action.
You’ve entrusted Luke and Kieran with procuring all of the things you need, and when you find three neatly arranged shopping bags by the front door of the penthouse, you make a mental note to get them each something nice.
Sylus’s room is large, and you’re thankful for the dimness of the lighting this once, as it serves as the perfect ambiance for what you’re trying to do. You doubt Sylus will be angry if you do a little rearranging, and even if he is upset, you pull your phone out to snap a few pictures of the before scene, just in case you need them to put everything back.
By the time you hear Sylus’s heavy footsteps and the doorknob turning, everything is in place and ready.
”Sweetie,” Sylus’s face lights up when he sees you sitting on the couch with a book. “Did you have a good day?”
Even though he’s asking about your day when it’s his birthday makes your chest ache, you play dumb.
“It was good, but I borrowed a couple of your books - do you mind?”
”Take whatever you want,” Sylus says quickly, then scoffs. “You know you’re welcome to anything in this apartment. Something smells good. Did Matheo come by to cook?”
“No,” you stand up and smooth the wrinkles out of your pants. “I actually told him he could have the night off when he stopped by earlier. I hope you like fish.”
Sylus freezes after he hangs his keys on the hook by the door, then turns to you.
”You… cooked?”
”Am I in trouble or something?”
”No, no, I just… You know I hate to ask you to do things, especially since you’re a guest, and -“
”A guest? Sylus, we’ve been together for well over a year, and I’ve been wanting to do this for you for a while now. Don’t worry, I got a recommendation for a white wine pairing with the salmon I made from Matheo before he left.”
Even though Sylus has had a relatively short working day, you can still hear the tiredness tugging at the edges of his laughter to drag it down into a low, resigned rumble.
”I will love anything you’ve done for me, so don’t jest about the wine pairings,” Sylus sighs and makes his way over to you to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Thank you, sweetie. It means a lot to me.”
”I wanted to do this for you, and I finally had the opportunity. I promise, I’m a good cook, even if it’s not the Michelin level experience you’re used to having.”
”Lead the way,” Sylus falls back and gestures for you to go ahead. “I have a feeling this will be the best meal I’ve ever had.”
Your dinner is not as elaborate as what his best chef, Matheo, can make on his worst day, but the look on Sylus’s face tells you that he enjoys it just as thoroughly. You caught Sylus off guard by making him sit and wait as you served everything, even though every atom in his body had been protesting to serve you first. You even manage to open the oaky Chardonnay Mattheo had suggested without splintering the cork. Sylus looks amused when you pour the buttery liquid into his glass, serving him far more than what an appropriate amount would be.
”I suppose we’re unwinding tonight,” he teases you and beams, tickled by your display of hospitality.
”Drink up, because I need you nice and relaxed for tonight.”
”Oh?”
“Mhm, and I have a surprise for later, too.”
“My, my,” Sylus hums, then takes his last bite of salmon. “I’m getting a five-star meal, a beautiful chardonnay, and a surprise later? What’s the occasion?”
Does he really not know?
You don’t want to lay all of your cards on the table just yet, so you take his plate away to clear the table. When he tries to help, you pretend to swat his hand.
“Just go relax in the living room, alright? Here -“
You take the bottle of chardonnay and refresh his glass, taking extra care to do the little swirl technique you notice Sylus doing to finish the pour with flair. Sylus raises an eyebrow.
“Very nice,” he compliments. “Not a single drop spilled.”
”Thank you. Now go read or something while I clean up.”
”Really, sweetie, I don’t mind helping, and -“
”Go. Read.”
Sylus has the decency to look sheepish.
”If you insist.”
After a quick cleanup made easier by your foresight to do the dishes as you cooked earlier, you find Sylus on the couch with his arms crossed and his head tilted to the side. His eyes are closed, but the lids flutter as you get closer, and you know he’s not fully asleep. Sylus’ body is rigid with a restlessness that doesn’t allow him even a brief nap, and you feel horrible when you gently shake him to bring him back to reality.
He’s alert immediately.
”Hey, too tired?”
“Not at all, I was simply relaxing. After all, that is what you wanted me to do, right?”
”Good, because I’ve got a couple of things in store for you,” you say, then offer your hand to him.
Sylus takes it, but relies on his own strength to stand, so he doesn’t pull you down with him, and interlocks your fingers.
“I’m a lucky man. Would you prefer that I close my eyes not to spoil the surprise?”
”I’ll leave that up to you,” you tug at his hand to show him that you want him to walk, then lead the way to his bedroom.
”Now, now, what kind of surprise could possibly be waiting for me in my bedroom?”
“Glad to know where your mind is,” you say over your shoulder, then see that he is closing his eyes at the surprise. “Okay, stay right here, don’t move, and since you wanted to be surprised, I’ll tell you when you can open.”
Sylus nods, and he stays put as you open the door.
You fiddle with the buttons on his electric fireplace to get it to roar to life so the room is bathed in a wash of dim, gentle light certain to be easy on Sylus’ tired eyes, then take the tray you’ve set aside with an assortment of skincare products from his nightstand to hold and present to him.
Sylus’ favorite armchair has been dragged to the center of the room, just in front of the fireplace, and the special foot bath you’d instructed Luke and Kieran to purchase lies at the base of the chair.
”Open!”
Sylus does as he’s instructed. He looks a little confused as he surveys the room, and he’s likely more concerned with your rearranging than the actual surprise you’ve planned. He steps forward with a bit of caution, just so he doesn’t step on something he might not have caught, and surveys the tray you’re holding with great interest.
”What’s all this?” He asks with genuine interest, even though he’s still trying to piece together your plan.
”We’re having a spa night,” you decide to cut through the fat of a long-winded explanation, too excited to pamper him to waste time with guessing games. “You’ve been working extra hard, and I know you’ve been exhausted.”
”Sweetie, you don’t have to go to all of this trouble just because I’m a little tired, it’s not -“
”It’s your birthday, Sylus. Did you know that?”
A faint glimmer of recognition registers in his eyes.
”Ah, yes… I’m aware of the date.”
You jerk your head to the chair, indicating for him to sit. As he’s making himself comfortable, you place the skincare tray on the small table you’ve dragged next to the chair and bend to shuck his shoes off.
They land somewhat gracelessly several feet away from each other with dull, almost comical thuds, and Sylus looks up at you with his eyebrow raised and a smile on his face.
”What service.”
”Yeah, yeah. You’re responsible for your socks, mister.”
Sylus has a few reservations, and although he takes very good care of himself, he’s not used to this level of pampering, especially from a partner. You’re not a professional by any means, but you’ve watched enough videos throughout the day to get a general idea of what to do, and you know from your own routine what works, so your gentle hands and insistence for relaxation put Sylus at ease.
”You have a knack for this, sweetheart,” he murmurs as you dab a hydrating serum on his face.
”Didn’t I tell you not to talk so much?”
Sylus shuts his lips immediately, and you fight the urge to laugh.
“I’m only kidding. This part you can talk through. When I put the mask on, though, you’re going to have to zip it for at least fifteen minutes.”
”What kind of mask are you doing?” He asks wearily, eyes shifting to your tray.
“Just a sheet mask, don’t worry. I’m not going to cake your face in clay. How’s the water?”
You hear a small splash as Sylus rubs his feet on the little wheels in the foot bath and snorts.
”It’s perfect. I might have to use this more often.”
”That’s what it’s for. I’d offer you a foot massage, but….” You wrinkle your nose. “I don’t know if I’ve done enough research for that part quite yet.”
”This is more than fine,” Sylus assures you. “I wouldn’t subject you to that. I likely owe my podiatrist a trip before I let anyone near these toes.”
”It’s those expensive shoes you wear,” you remark smugly as you cap the serum and get to work on the moisturizer.
”What’s wrong with my shoes?” Sylus asks, leaning into your touch.
”They’re pretty, but they can’t be comfortable. It probably doesn’t help that you don’t break them in, considering you wear a new pair daily.”
”Not daily,” Sylus corrects you. “I have a few pairs I’ve worn more than three times.”
“Wow,” you deadpan, setting the moisturizer aside to select a sheet mask, settling on a hydrating one with minimal fragrance. “How good of you. Be still for me, please - this is the part where you can’t talk.”
Sylus does as he’s asked and becomes still as a statue - stiff and poised like a gargoyle. You struggle with pulling the mask out, breathing out a huff of frustration when it tangles in your hands, but after a few seconds of fiddling, you manage to straighten it out and lay it across your boyfriend’s face.
Sylus shivers at the bite of the cold, but stays as still as possible while you line the holes up with his eyes, then adjust the flaps on the nose so the mask lies flush against his face.
”Feel good?”
He doesn’t answer.
”That’s not a test on how well you can obey instructions,” you laugh and pull your hands back. “You can also open your eyes if you’d like.”
”Good,” Sylus says, strained within the confines of the mouth hole. “Yes.”
”I’m glad. Can I see your hands?”
Sylus slowly lifts his arms, still obviously worried about disturbing the mask you’ve painstakingly applied, and presents his hands to you. You hold his left hand in your left hand, then reach for the cuticle-removing gel with your right hand. The cap has already been removed, so you easily apply a little dab to the base of each of his fingernails, then move to the other hand to do the same.
“Tool?” Sylus asks when you begin pushing his cuticles back.
”Just a cuticle pusher - I’m not going to paint your nails or anything.”
”Wouldn’t mind,” he says stiffly against the mask. “If you wanted.”
He’s so sweet.
”Just getting off the dead skin. I’m going to clip it, but don’t be scared, okay? It’s very gentle, and it won’t hurt.”
Sylus doesn’t complain as you nip away, and true to your word, he’s left unscathed. His hands are well-maintained, and you suspect he gets manicures every once in a while, but you still like that he’s letting you do this for him.
“Now that I’ve got you here and you can’t talk much,” you say, tone still light but a little more serious. “I just wanted to tell you how much you mean to me.”
Sylus closes his eyes as you massage a freshly scented lotion into his palms.
”You are so loving, so giving, and so incredibly selfless that you make it annoyingly impossible to care for you.”
Sylus’ body shakes with a bout of repressed laughter.
”STILL,” you continue, pressing your thumbs into the center of his palm. “I love you, and I want you to rely on me as much as I rely on you. I love every part of you, every little cut, every perfect imperfection, and every last bit of your soul, and I love you more than I did last year, but not as much as I will next year.”
The mask is drier now, all the moisture sapped into Sylus’ thirsty skin, so you lift the edge and slowly peel it off. You discard the cotton in a small trash bag you’ve prepared, then lean over Sylus to rub the remaining product in.
“I know you don’t care much about your birthday, or maybe you just don’t see it as something special,” you murmur. “To me, this is a day worth celebrating. Every day with you is worth celebrating, but today is the day that you came into this world, and that is an event that I cherish.”
”Sweetheart,” Sylus begins, lips quivering. “I - I appreciate you more than you could ever understand. I only need one person, and this is you. Everything else is negotiable.”
Sylus leans into your touch as you work the product into his face and opens his eyes to look into yours.
“Thank you.”
”Don’t thank me,” you bend to kiss his moist lips gently.
He tastes as lavender smells.
”Just let me do things for you a little more now and again?”
”Of course.”
”Amazing, now it’s time to get those dogs outta the bath and into some slippers - you’ll need to thank Luke and Kieran for those, because they did a great job picking them out.”
Sylus helps you clean up your little spa display, even though you refuse.
”It’s my birthday, right? Well, I want to spend it with you, and that means every second I can get with you. Don’t make me sit on the couch all alone.”
Checkmate.
Oh, he’s good.
To Sylus’s shock, you have one more surprise waiting for him in the refrigerator. You put on half a pot of coffee, shooing his hand away when he tries to help you work the hi-tech machine, then head to the fridge to pull out a devil’s food cupcake.
”Just for me?”
”I knew you wouldn’t like it if I got you a whole cake, so I settled for a single serving,” you reason, then stick a simple white candle in the center. “Got a lighter?”
”Matches are in the drawer,” Sylus purrs, amused. “You really thought of everything.”
”It’s the most important day to me, why would I do things halfway?”
Sylus’s face glows a cute pink when you sing him an out of tune, but well-intended happy birthday, and even though you got the cupcake for him, he cuts it in half to share with you. He insists on feeding it to you himself, then wipes the crumbs away from your lower lip with his thumb.
”Thank you, sweetie,” he says after the cake is gone and the coffee is lukewarm. “I truly didn’t have anything planned for today, and I’m always just happy to enjoy your company, regardless.”
“I know that,” you huff and stand to wrap your arms around his waist. ”Same time next year?”
Summary: It’s not often that you and Caleb have disagreements, and it’s even rarer when differences of opinion or miscommunication lead to a full blown fight. If Caleb is angry or feels like you’re not listening to him, he tends to shut down.
Pairing: Caleb x reader
Word count: 7.3 K
[warnings/tags - Caleb is overprotective and his overbearing side comes through, avoidance, makeup sex, dacryphilia, a little bit of angst - I do write these as I post them and I won’t label every sexual act unless it requires a warning, so bear that in mind going in!]
Caleb avoids what’s uncomfortable and instead of speaking about it, he often separates himself if he feels like he’s not being understood. It’s never malicious, but this tendency of his does lead to more anxiety between the both of you.
When you show up at Caleb’s place after an especially rough day at work, all you want to do is relax and have a nice evening with him.
“Hey, wanna order something out tonight? Might be a little easier, and we can shower together,” Caleb suggests as he takes your bag from you.
“Yeah,” you reach down to pry your boots from your aching feet. “Sounds good.”
“Gotcha. I’ll take care of your clothes if you want to leave them on the counter and I’ll get ya some fresh ones of mine to sleep in. Cool?”
“Coooool,” you draw out the word with a playful eye roll.
Caleb snorts and bends to gently kiss your cheek, eyes swimming with joy. He’s always elated to see you and the fact that you’re that special to him makes you feel weightless; like the stress of the day is no longer hanging on to your shoulders.
Caleb busies himself with finding you something to wear, and you make the familiar path to his gorgeous bathroom.
“Rich Skyhaven boy,” you think to yourself fondly as you strip.
You neatly fold your clothing even though it’s going into the hamper and turn the shower on.
The water is a comforting embrace; an old friend’s familiarity and warmth that settles you as the temperature climbs. The knots in your back feel less painful, even if they don’t dig themselves out.
“You all settled, Pipsqueak? Okay if I come in?” Caleb’s voice is muffled by the door.
“Yeah, come in - Yanno, you never have to ask, especially if I agree to a shower together before.”
The initial squirt of body wash chills your hand, but you rub them together to warm them up. You see Caleb’s fingers curl around the side of the shower curtain almost as if to give you a second warning.
“Caleb,” you say incredulously. “Just come in!”
“I know, I know - Just makin’ sure you want company, is all.”
“You’re the sweetest, most maddening person.”
“You forgot ‘hottest’, though,” Caleb supplies, then tugs the curtain to let himself in.
When you look up at him, you see his smile has dropped.
“What?” You ask, suddenly feeling self conscious under his immediate scrutiny.
“What the fuck happened to you today?” Caleb demands, reaching out to lightly press his fingers against a giant bruise forming on your arm.
“Oh, that’s -“
“Why are you covered in cuts?”
“Caleb, it’s not like -“ you cut yourself off as you see dread color his features darker, and those eyes swimming with that bright joy from before are dull kindling with the faintest start of an angry fire.
“How many times have I told you that you need to be careful?”
“Caleb,” you say slowly, understanding where his concern is coming from, but feeling that familiar indignation burn the back of your throat like bile. “You know how it gets sometimes, it was a nasty wanderer, and I knew what i was doing -“
“Clearly not enough to keep yourself safe - Pipsqueak, this shit could get infected if you’re not careful.”
“I know that - you act like I don’t know basic safety and how to take care of myself! This isn’t the first time this has happened, and -“
“Not the first time, but you’re fucking covered in these!” Caleb insists, lifting your arm to your eye line so you can see what he means.
Unfortunately, Caleb is right. Your arm is littered with nicks and bruises and a particularly nasty gash you hadn’t noticed before sits just below your elbow.
Caleb lets your hand drop, then crouches, not caring about the water that’s beating down on his face, and looks.
“This is…” Caleb trails off, his shock melting into a quiet, simmering anger that makes you feel sick.
“I - I’m okay. I was cleared by medical, and no one told me that I had to go to a hospital -“
“It doesn’t fucking matter,” Caleb looks up at you, and his voice is an eerie calm.
“I’m okay,” you repeat, not really knowing what else to say or how to assure him.
“Right. Because you always know best,” Caleb stands. “Give me that sponge and turn around.”
“That’s not fair,” you try to deny, but Caleb doesn’t even attempt to argue with you.
He simply takes the sponge and begins carefully washing your scrapes and cuts.
“Caleb -“
“Arms up,” he cuts you off with an order that you immediately obey.
“I’m fine -“
“Okay,” Caleb says. “Whatever you say.”
Caleb cleans you silently, and even though you know that you haven’t done anything actually wrong, you feel like it’s your fault that he’s this upset.
With gentle hands, Caleb works to make sure you’re clean. When he’s finished, he washes himself, denying your offer to do so for him.
“It’s fine. Just get dry and wait for me to finish so I can get the first aid kit.”
You don’t have the energy to challenge him, and you know that this is his way of compartmentalizing; shutting things down before he can get too worked up over them. It’s never something you’ve talked about in depth, because it’s only happened a few times, but you know that he’s upset. His anger is never directed at you, and you know it’s the situation that he’s frustrated with, but you wish he would talk to you about it.
The heat that the towel provides is minimal, and despite doing your best to dry off as much as you can, the air feels like it’s freezing. Caleb steps out not long after you and dries himself quickly, not bothering with his hair, which he leaves damp.
“Counter. Sit please,” He works to keep his tone even.
“Caleb,” you try softly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know that things would get that dicey.”
Caleb says nothing as he digs for the first aid kit. He places it on the counter next to you and fishes for rubbing alcohol and ointment.
“Really, I -“
“Can you lift your arm for me?”
“Yeah,” you concede and do as he asks.
“This will sting a little,” he warns, and even the burn of the rubbing alcohol can’t rival the anxiety clawing its way up your throat.
Caleb doctors your wounds, and you can gradually see why he was so shocked when he saw you. They’re everywhere.
Most of your cuts are manageable and light scratches, but three rather large gashes decorate just beneath your elbow, the back of your thigh, and right at the base of your neck that your hair and uniform had covered.
“I’m going to put some gauze on the bigger ones, and I think we should change them out every few hours depending on how messy they get,” Caleb decides. “I think that’s what Zayne would do.”
“That sounds -“
“I’ll give him a call after I finish here. Takeout should be here in a few.”
“You’re going to call Zayne?” You squawk. “Surely it’s not that serious.”
“I’d feel safer with an actual medical opinion and by the state you were left in and none of those useless fucks on your team thought you should get a second opinion, it seems like Zayne wasn’t informed.”
“They would have sent me if it was necessary -“
“AND,” Caleb presses on. “I doubt you showed them the extent of the damage, ‘cause it seems like you didn’t even realize it was as bad as it is.”
You feel like you’re being scolded, and suddenly you feel about as big as a bug.
“Go make yourself comfortable on the couch,” Caleb says, resigned. “I’m going to call Zayne and then we can decide what the best course of action is.”
“I’m fine,” you mutter.
If Caleb heard you, he doesn’t respond. He packs up the kit to put away, then leaves you in the bathroom to go make his call.
The chill in the air feels suffocating, and the cold does little to help the ache in your throat. You dress in Caleb’s comfortable fleet sweatpants and a hoodie that you know is too small for him, but he keeps because you like it.
By the time you’re finished, the doorbell rings.
“Right, so none of the team spoke with you about what happened today?” Caleb’s voice comes from the next room as you accept the bags of food.
You hastily thank the delivery person and hand them a large tip that you know Caleb would insist on if he were paying, trying your best to catch the end of his conversation.
“So she is meant to check in with you if there are injuries to that extent, no matter if she thinks she’s fine or not?”
You cringe. In your defense, you hadn’t known they were that bad.
“Okay, I’ll keep you updated. She seems alright otherwise, and I think her heart is fine,”
“Yeah,” Caleb continues in a low voice, clearly not intending for you to overhear. “She’s just being a little stubborn, and I don’t think she wants to make it a big deal, but - yeah, I got it. Do you need pictures of the injuries? Right. Okay, I’ll try my best.”
Caleb’s footsteps grow louder, so you busy yourself by setting the table and acting like you weren’t eavesdropping.
“Thanks for setting the table,” Caleb says woodenly. “I just got off the phone with Zayne. He thinks you should send pictures of your injuries for tonight and get a check up tomorrow just in case for your heart.”
“I’ll -“
“I can take the pictures for you - some of the worst ones you won’t be able to get. So, you knew that you were supposed to get looked at?”
“I didn’t think it was that bad.”
“Pipsqueak,” Caleb sounds hoarser, more affected this time. “You need to do what’s best.”
“I know, I just didn’t realize I had that many and if I had known, I would have told someone. Clearly, I didn’t know. You KNOW that I didn’t keep that from you on purpose.”
“If they’re THAT bad, then the fight was bad enough for you to know that something might have been up.”
“Caleb, I -“
“You’re so much smarter than this, you know that?” He shakes his head in disbelief as he speaks. “Do you know how many people care about you? Your condition? Do you realize how critical it is to fuckin’ - take care of yourself? At all?”
“How dare you talk to me like I’m some kind of child?” You find yourself saying back, your pride hurt and your ego clawing its way out of your chest.
“Like you’re a child? Basic decency and giving a fuck about your well being is treating you like a child?”
“You’re getting mad at something I can’t control!”
“I’m not getting mad at something you can’t control, I’m fucking frustrated that you never listen to anyone because you think you can handle everything on your own and that you always, always know what’s best!”
“Caleb, that’s not true, and -“
“Yes, it is, and you never want to hear anything about it!”
“I always go to my appointments, and Zayne knows that I wouldn’t disregard something like that on purpose, and -“
“Really?” Caleb cocks his head to the side, the corners of his mouth curled into an almost mocking smile. “Interesting that you say that, because Zayne told me this isn’t the first time you’ve done something like this.”
“So you’ll listen to Zayne but you won’t listen to me when I’m telling you that I truly thought I was fine?”
“He’s your fucking primary care doctor and the one that knows the most about your condition. Remind me, how many years of medical school did you attend?”
“Fuck you.”
As soon as the words leave your lips, you wish you could suck them back in and swallow them so the digestion process can begin.
Caleb just looks at you.
“Okay,” he says after a moment. “Alright, then. Look, just … eat whatever you want. I’ve got paperwork to do.”
“Caleb -“
“Finish up, and when I’m done, I can take the pictures for you. Unless you’d rather take them yourself, I don’t really care anymore.”
He cares.
You can see it in the tense set of his jaw and hear it in the rasp that hijacks his voice.
“I’ll… I’ll wait for you here.”
Caleb doesn’t nod or speak. He doesn’t acknowledge you in any way. You see his hands clench into fists at his sides, then unfurl slowly, his palms red from the way his fingernails were biting into the skin.
He’s self-soothing.
Caleb takes one of the food containers without looking at its contents and disappears into his bedroom to focus on the paperwork.
You feed yourself because you know your body needs it, but the food settles in your stomach like cement, churning and heavy as it mixes with your dread.
Caleb is holed up in his room, and you know that he really is working on paperwork, because he’d mentioned to you earlier that day he was going to need some time to work on it, but he usually does it on the couch.
After finishing your food, you collect the leftovers to fit into Caleb’s fridge, but when you open it, you see that it’s completely barren.
A few bottles of water stand on the bottom shelf, and there’s a half-drunk container of milk that you squint to find the date on.
It’s expired.
That’s why he’d insisted on takeout. He’s been working so much lately he hasn’t had a moment to get to the store.
You wonder how long it’s been like this.
There’s plenty of space for the leftovers, so you separate them by type. A half-dried up marker rests on a magnet on Caleb’s fridge, so you mark the date on the containers, hoping it’ll be easy for him to see when he needs to toss them.
The rest of the night is quiet, and part of you wonders if you should leave. You don’t know if Caleb wants to be around you right now, but you worry that he’ll think your leaving is out of spite.
You wish he’d just talk it through with you.
His couch provides a bit of comfort after you finish cleaning up in the kitchen, and the blanket he keeps folded on the right end smells like him.
Wrapping yourself in the soft velvet gives you a sense of his presence. All you wanted today was to come to his apartment and unwind.
Despite your anxiety, exhaustion builds in your chest and breaks off to seep into your limbs and extremities. Sleep claims you with greedy hands that pick and pluck at your nerves and dreams to leave you restless. The arm of Caleb’s couch serves as a hard, unforgiving pillow.
“Bed,” Caleb’s voice swims in your ears and pries you from the clutches of irritating nightmares.
The wanderer you faced today had been right in front of you, a foreign, snarling noise emanating from its throat. Caleb’s face comes into view.
“You fell asleep,” he says as he nudges you.
“Sorry,” you murmur. “Didn’t know when you’d be finished with your work.”
“Sit up for me,” Caleb instructs, hands firm on your waist to steady you as you shake the sleep from your body. “Gotta get those pictures to Zayne. Can you stand?”
Your legs protest with an ache that hadn’t been there before, but it’s not entirely unbearable. Caleb leads you to his bedroom.
“Sit down, should only take a few seconds, then you can go back to sleep,” Caleb guides you to the bed, then reaches for his phone on the nightstand.
“Do I need to stand up for the ones on my legs?”
“No,” Caleb shakes his head as he delicately lifts your arms to snap the pictures. “I can crouch down and get them that way.”
“Are you sure, because -“
“Zayne’s only really concerned about the gashes, pipsqueak. Just let me take these and then you can get the rest you need.”
The room is quiet for a moment, and not even the shutter sound of Caleb’s camera offers any kind of distraction, because his phone is always on silent.
“Should be good,” Caleb says after he gets what he needs, then double checks his gallery to make sure everything is okay to send.
“Thank you,” you say quietly.
“All good, you can get into bed, and -“
“Wait, you’re not coming to bed, too?”
Caleb avoids your eyes and busies himself with his phone, though you know he’s already done what he’s needed to do.
“Caleb, why aren’t you staying?’
“I’ve got more paperwork, and I don’t want to bother you, so…”
“Bulllshit,” you blurt. “That’s bullshit and you know it is.”
“Look, I think you need rest, and -“
“And I think you need to actually listen to me!”
“I don’t want to fight about this,” Caleb says with a sense of finality that makes your blood boil.
“No, you don’t want to fight about this. Apparently, you don’t want to talk about this at all. What about what I want?”
“Pipsqueak -“
“Caleb, I did everything you asked me to today.”
“You don’t understand,” Caleb snaps, that last thread of his patience fraying beyond recognition.
“Then help me understand,” you insist. “You didn’t listen to me once earlier when I told you that I DIDN’T know that my injuries were that bad. So, what, I’m a liar?”
“No, I didn’t call you a liar, I just -“
“You may as well have,” your voice climbs in pitch with your frustration, your words tumbling from your lips and scrambling over each other like they’re afraid they won’t be heard.
“I just need you to understand that I care about you.”
“Right,” you scoff, unable to keep the sarcasm at bay. “Because I think you don’t care about me. Did it ever occur to you that I know what my body can handle? That this was something I can take care of?”
“You have a fucking heart condition,” he stands, no longer masking his own frustration.
“That I have dealt with for a long time. I know my body. I know my injuries. I know that I didn’t push myself beyond what I can handle today. Do you just think I can’t take care of myself? That I need you to protect me from everything? I don’t need you to do that, Caleb!”
Caleb’s expression blanches, and whatever color that had been taking residence in the scarlet roses of his cheeks evacuates. When that passionate anger melts into a profound, overwhelming sadness, you can see just how exhausted he’s been lately, too.
“You don’t need me?”
“Caleb,” you say firmly. “Do you realize that even just then you didn’t listen to what I was saying?”
“You said -“
“I said that I didn’t need you to always protect me. I don’t need you to fight all of my battles,” you cut him off, giving him a taste of his own medicine.
The violet in Caleb’s eyes has faded, and you can see that lonely wallflower that craves to be needed draining the bright bliss from earlier as it plants insatiable seeds of doubt.
Your reassurance, though well-intended, eats at him.
“Caleb, I love you. I love you more than anything.”
“I know that,” Caleb says indignantly, sounding more like he’s trying to convince himself more than he’s trying to convince you.
“Do you?”
You lift your injured hands to his face and cup his jaw to make him look at you.
“I do,” Caleb murmurs. “You do know that I love you, too, right? That I only say these things because I care about you so fucking much that I’m constantly worried you’re going to leave me somehow.”
“I would never leave -“
“That’s not… that’s not what I’m talking about.”
“What do you mean, Caleb? You’re stuck with me, it’s not like I’m going to get upset by a little argument and just take off.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about,” Caleb repeats with a little more force. “I can’t be around you every second of every day and… when you come home like this…”
“It’s just a few scratches -“
“This time,” Caleb croaks. “It’s just a few scratches this time, and who cares about a deep gash, right? They have stitches for that? And… and who cares about a broken leg, those heal, right? Who cares about a … a missing arm? They’ve got technology for that, right?”
“Caleb, that’s -“
“Who cares when the fucking ECG goes flat and there’s no more next time?”
Your words catch in your throat.
“Sweetheart,” Caleb forgoes using his usual nickname for you, the gravity of the situation too intense for him to break it out. “I … I want as much time as I can get with you, and even then, it won’t be enough. Forever won’t be enough. I need you so badly that it hurts when you’re not there.”
Caleb pulls you into his arms and sits with you on the bed so your legs drape across his. He rests his forehead against yours.
“Every second of the day that I can’t see you, it’s a kind of agony that I can’t explain, and - and I know it’s too much. I know it’s intense. It’s not… normal.”
“It’s okay,” you try to say, but Caleb makes a noise in the back of his throat.
“It’s not. I know it’s not. I’m working on it and I have been for a long, long time. I know that you can fight your own battles. I know that you’re strong. You are the most capable person I know.”
“You can talk to me about this, Caleb. I know, because I feel the same way about you. I hate that I can’t know you’re safe all the time, especially when you’re away.”
“I - I know. I don’t mean to be selfish.”
“You’re not being selfish, I just need you to trust me a little more.”
“I do trust you, honey. It’s every one else I don’t fucking trust.”
Caleb pulls you even closer so he can rest his head on yours shoulder.
“I’m okay, Caleb,” you say softly as you delicately trail your fingertips up his back. “I promise. I will get be more careful next time.”
“I don’t want to be a prick, but can you just get a second opinion next time? Just let the medical team examine you a little more?”
“I will,” you compromise. “You may have not reacted the right way, but you were right. I should have let them be more thorough.”
“Let them?”
“I might have…” you trail off, then wince at your own stupidity. “I might have told them it wasn’t necessary.”
You feel Caleb inhale sharply, but instead being angry, he simply lets that held breath puff out.
“Yeah. Okay, let’s - okay. We’re good?” He asks a little tightly, but pulls back to smile at you.
“We’re good,” you assure him. “You still have paperwork to do? Are you sure you can’t come to bed?”
“I’m mostly finished,” Caleb admits. “I just wanted to let you rest on your own and I wasn’t really… sure you wanted to see me after how I acted.”
“I’ve been wanting to see you all day, and here you are telling me it hurts when I’m not around but you’re gonna sleep on the couch? What’s with that?”
“I’m a stupid, stupid man.”
“Beyond stupid. Mega stupid.”
“The most stupid, legend says,” Caleb nods and pouts.
“Lucky for you, I like guys that are a little dumber than me, you know?” You tease.
“I know, I’m just a trophy husband to you,” Caleb scoots back on the bed and pats your thighs for you to lift up.
When you do, he parts your legs and motions for you to straddle him.
“Yeah? Think you gotta propose to me first to earn that title,” You giggle, but allow him to position you as he likes so you can be as close to him as possible.
“And it won’t be the first ring you’re getting from me,” Caleb promises. “Such a shame I don’t get a little trinket to wear before it’s all official.”
“You want a little trinket?”
“Not so much thaaaaat,” Caleb drawls. “Just that I want people to know that I’m YOURS. Want something to mark me.”
“Guess I’ll just have to keep you covered in marks until then, hm?”
You feel his cock twitch against your thigh.
“Seems like you wouldn’t mind that?”
“Pipsqueak,” Caleb clears his throat. “You’re hurt, and -“
“I seem to recall, Colonel,” you lean forward to whisper into his ear. “That you agreed to start listening more.”
“I’m listenin’, I promise. What do you need from me?” Caleb asks.
“I need you to just… sit like that for me and keep your hands to yourself.”
“That’s not -“
“Listen, Caleb,” you pull back to look at him. “I’m speaking, right?”
“Yes ma’am,” Caleb nods quickly, worried you’ll decide to not touch him, then realizes he’s made a mistake by speaking.
His cheeks puff out comicallyas he shows you he’s zipping his lips and holding his breath.
“Very good, I think I’m gonna start… here.”
Caleb gasps as he feels your lips press against his throat. Deciding you like those little sounds he’s making, you cover the skin there in sweet, soft kisses.
Caleb’s body trembles as he works to keep his hands at his side so he’s not disobeying you.
His effort is so delicious.
You begin to use your lips less and your tongue more, and it drives Caleb to the brink of his restraint. He does everything he can to keep from speaking, worried you’ll take his words as an act of defiance.
“You can speak,” you assure him sweetly between licks and sucks. “I like that filthy mouth of yours.”
“I’ll do anything,” Caleb gasps out. “I’ll do whatever you want, let me apologize, please? Command me.”
His cock presses against you through the thin fabric of his sweats, and you know he’s not wearing any underwear because you can feel the full length of him.
“Just sit there for me, okay? I think… I think I want to take care of you a little bit, hm?”
“What? I don’t deserve -“
“I’m commanding you, Colonel. Take those sweatpants off and show me how much you need me, okay?”
You lift up so he can obey, unable to tear your eyes away from the sight. He’s so eager to feel you against him with no barriers that he doesn’t bother removing the pants, just lets them bunch at his ankles.
Caleb groans as his cock bobs free and slaps against his shirt, drooling and leaving a stain on the heather gray fabric.
“Lean back against the headboard for me, please?”
“Don’t even have to say please,” Caleb chokes, doing exactly what you say.
“But you’re being so good,” You coo. “And I know you’re sorry.”
“Sooooo sorry,” Caleb groans.
“You want me to touch you?”
“Only if you want, I -“
“I asked if you wanted me to touch you,” you repeat, then settle between his legs so you’re lying on your stomach, eye level with his cock, but not touching it quite yet.
“I do, please,” Caleb nods, spreading his legs wider to accommodate you - always worried about your comfort.
“Gooood,” you praise, curling your fingers around his cock to bring it closer to your lips.
A small bead of wetness rests at the tip, which you spread around with your thumb.
“Please,” he begs. “I’ll - can you please -“
Teasing him is fun, but you want to put him out of his misery. You take his head into your mouth and swirl your tongue, the taste faintly salty, but clean.
“Ffffuck,” he stammers. “That’s - thank you, thank you so much -“
You take his cock out of your mouth and laugh.
“You don’t have to thank me, dummy.”
“Yessss,” he hisses at the loss of your mouth and trembles. “Yeah, I do. Never gonna get over that, f-fuck,.”
“Get over… what? My hands… my lips… my tongue..”
“You,” Caleb bites out, hands digging into the bedsheets to keep himself grounded as you slowly stroke him. “Never gonna get over you. I just can’t believe you’re real - can’t believe that you love me.”
“I do,” you affirm, then stick out your tongue to drag it down the length of him, reveling in the way he writhes under your touch. “You’re so cute, Caleb.”
“H-how?”
“Responsive - like everything I do is the best thing you’ve ever felt.”
“That’s ‘cause it is - ah -“
You wrap your lips around the head of his cock again and slowly begin sinking down as you use both hands to touch what your mouth can’t reach.
Caleb is big, but he isn’t unmanageable. He’s just thick enough the slight stretch of your jaw is more exhilarating than it is unpleasant.
“So - So good,” Caleb lets out a strained groan, unable to keep his voice to himself.
You take as much of him in your mouth as you can until the head of his cock hits the back of your throat and taps at your gag reflex. Swallowing helps with the feeling, and it makes Caleb whine.
You’re not as practiced as some might be, considering Caleb is the first and only man you’ve ever given a blowjob, and he hardly lets you do it. Caleb is always hell bent on focusing on your pleasure and making you feel good that he often shrugs off or outright rejects your advances.
“It’s okay, pipsqueak,” he’d say. “I’d rather us just feel good together.”
Or your favorite,
“I get pleasure from you getting pleasure.”
You know both are true, but you also know that he’s holding himself back for your benefit even though you’ve never asked him to.
Caleb has only recently begun initiating sex, and it’s not because he doesn’t want to do it, but wants to make sure it’s something YOU want. If it’s YOUR idea, he feels less guilty, even though he has no reason to feel that way to begin with.
He feels greedy; undeserving.
Getting to touch Caleb this way makes you understand what he means when he says he gets pleasure from your pleasure. The knit in his brow and the way those painfully dry, but pretty lips of his part makes you ache.
You want to show him how much he means to you and treat him the way he treats you.
“It’s okay, it’s okay, sweetheart,” Caleb struggles to say when you choke a little bit to take him deeper. “It all feels good, I just like you touching me, d-don’t hurt yourself, don’t -“
You squeeze his thigh with insistent fingers to make him quiet down.
“It’s - if you keep going like that, I’m not gonna get to make you feel good.”
You pull off, mostly to catch your breath, but also to ask if he’s okay.
“You don’t want -“
“NO, no, oh - fuck, no, that’s not what I meant, it’s - it’s too good,” he rushes to get out, terrified of hurting your feelings. “I love it, but I like feeling YOU more.”
You croak out a laugh, your throat beginning to ache from the stretch.
“Is my mouth also not a part of me?”
“You’re meeeeean,” Caleb pouts. “You know damn well what I meant.”
“Mm, greedy man. Is it not enough?” You tease, but sit up so you can take your - his - hoodie off.
“Can I touch now?” He asks as your naked torso comes into view, mesmerized like he is every single time he’s seen you naked.
“I guess so,” you grin. “You don’t have to be afraid of hurting me, most of the scratches and bruises haven’t bothered me all day.”
“Don’t say that for my sake,” Caleb frowns once you mention them, and you regret it immediately when you watch his eyes scan your body for ones he might have missed earlier.
“Stop that,” you chide. “You fixed me up really well earlier and I’m as good as new, okay? Now can you please take these stupid pants off of me?”
Not wanting to reignite an argument put to bed and made better through intimacy, Caleb chooses to believe you and resigns himself to healing you in the best way he can think of.
“Lift up for me, baby.”
“Ooh, careful,” you laugh when he loses his balance in his attempt to sit on his heels.
“Don’t make fun,” he grumbles, taking his frustrations out on the waistband of the sweatpants he’s leant you.
They come off easily, along with an ill-fitting pair of the briefs he lets you wear when you have nothing else.
“Fuck, you’re s’fuckin’ gorgeous,” he marvels, making sure to pull the fabric off of you completely so you’re able to move freely, unlike him.
He kicks his sweatpants off for good measure, tired of his ankles being trapped.
“Gonna leave that shirt on, or am I allowed to see your chest?”
“You’re a perveeeeeeert,” he accuses melodically, drawing out the jab with a sharp lilt.
“Got you here leaking all over yourself and I’m the pervert? Okay, Caleb.”
“Fiiiiine, I guess I can show you the goods. ‘Sides, it’s getting… really hot in here.”
As Caleb tosses the shirt to the side, you climb into his lap to press yourself against his chest. You feel his cock against your stomach, rigid and drooling precum.
“Feel so good, Caleb,” you sigh. “Been wanting to do this all day.”
“Fuck, me too. I hate that we wasted so much time, I’m - I’m so -“
“Don’t,” you lean in so that your lips are mere centimeters apart. “We said our sorries, right?”
“Mhm,” Caleb agrees, blinking at your proximity, then moans into your mouth when you part his lips with your tongue.
You grind against Caleb, and your kisses devolve into primal, sloppy licks. Caleb steadies your hip with one hand and uses the other to grasp your jaw to hold it there so he can pry your lips apart with his.
“Fuuuck,” he groans when you part for breath. “I need to be inside of you, can I - can I please?”
“Y-yeah,” you manage, not any better off than he is.
You’re avoiding looking between your legs on purpose, because you know the bedsheets are stained with a combination of your fluids.
“Is it okay like this? Can you be on top? I’ll do all of the work, truuuust me, I’ll make you feel so good, but I like hugging you like this.”
“Y-yeah, just don’t stop kissing me,” you slur, drunk from the pleasure and unable to right your mind when his cock is pressed against you like this and you can’t move.
“Up, sweetheart - can you just… yeah, like that,” Caleb encourages you as you lift yourself just enough that he can slip his hand between your legs.
You cry out as he toys with your clit with the pad of his thumb and slips his middle finger inside of you.
“So wet,” he observes, testing the waters by thrusting his finger inside of you a few times before deciding you’re ready for another.
Caleb’s fingers are thick and calloused, rough enough to add to your pleasure, but not so much so that it’s uncomfortable.
“Theeeere she is,”
“Missed me today, didn’t you?” Caleb continues, knowing that you have a thing for his voice.
He’s been self conscious about talking dirty to you in the past, always worried he’s coming off too strong, but notices how much it affects you and how quickly you come when he dooesn’t hold back.
“I missed you so much,” you admit, though you know the question is rhetorical and meant to tease you.
“Mhm, so wet and so eager for my fingers - bet I could just… sliiiiiiide inside of you right now and you’d be all ready for me, yeah?”
“Y-yes, yes please,”
“I don’t think so,” Caleb says with a mock pout. “I think you need a little more preparation - can’t just go rushin’ it, you know?”
“Caleb, please -“
“Nun-uh, gotta get you niiiice and readddyyyy,”
Caleb slips his index finger inside to join the other two, and the stretch combined with the way he’s pressing his thumb on your clit is dizzying.
“Woah, you’re okay, I’ve got you - I’ve got you, just let go for me, okay? I know you can.”
“But -“
“Noooo buts, it’s your turn to listen to me now that I’ve listened to you, hm? Just feeeeeeel that, feel the way my fingers streeeetch that pretty little cunt of yours, hm?”
His voice is doing dangerous things to your libido, and you’re starting to worry that you might be up all night.
“C-Caleb,”
“I know, oh -“ he lowers his head to murmur in your ear, his voice a low, pleasant purr. “I knooooooow.”
That’s all it takes for you to come part at the seams, thighs wet and trembling as fresh gush of arousal coats his fingers and drips from your cunt.
“That’s it, that’s fuckin’ it, good girl,” Caleb praises as you shudder. “So good for me, just relaaaax like that.”
Caleb’s fingers don’t stop until he feels your tears of pleasure drip onto his face.
“So good you’re cryin’? Sweetheart, ohhh, you’re so needy. Let’s take care of you, okay?”
Caleb pulls his fingers out of you then lifts them to your quivering lips. He presses them against your bottom lip until it gives, then against the soft padding of your tongue so you can taste yourself.
“Good, now suck for me? I know you’re good at that.”
You wrap your tongue around his fingers and Caleb’s eyes go slightly unfocused at the sight of you being so good for him. When you lick his fingers clean, Caleb continues to press them on your tongue to keep your mouth open, then slips his tongue in against yours.
Caleb pulls his fingers from your mouth so he can situate you as he likes, but continues to kiss you senseless. You feel yourself being lifted a little higher, then feel the crown of Caleb’s cock nudge your entrance. You’re so pliant and open from his attention that he slips inside of you easily until he’s buried to the hilt, able to hit you a little deeper from the angle.
“Oh, fffffuuuuuck,” Caleb chokes out. “You feel so fu-fucking good, I can’t - fucking focus,”
“Dirty m-mouth,” you manage as you wriggle your hips, thankful he’s giving you a moment to adjust.
“Don’t act like you don’t love it - squirted th’last time I called you a good girl when I was fuckin’ you in your bed.”
“Aiming for a repeat?” You laugh breathlessly.
“Guess we’ll see, huh?”
You both dissolve into fits of giggles, unable to control yourselves, and the coupled vibrations from the sound make yours ebb into soft, needy moans.
“It’s okay,” he repeats. “I’m gonna take care of you, ‘Kay? You don’t have to do anything, just - ah - like that,”
Caleb lifts you by the hips, taking care to make sure he’s not gripping too tightly in case he touches one of your cuts or bruises, then pulls you back down to thrust up into you.
Caleb rolls his hips against yours, controlling your movements with his hands.
“So good, that’s so good,” he continues to encourage you, keeping up a babble of praises and sweet comments to show you his appreciation.
“R-right there,” you whimper.
“I know, I know…”
“A-are you -“
“Do you need me to be?” Caleb lowers his voice so he’s being gentle - less teasing and full of concern.
“It’s not that, I just - you must be so …”
“Yeah, I am, don’t worry - I’m right there, okay? You’re doing so well,” Caleb presses harder into you. “So warm and tight…”
“I l-love you,” you stammer, words scrambled with the force of his thrusts as he picks up speed.
“Love you more, I love you so much - never gonna get used to this, never gonna - fuck,” he pants. “I’m so sorry, I’m sorry for everything, I just - need you, need to protect you,”
“I know, Caleb, I kn-know, I’m sorry too, I’m so sorry -“
“Shh, just - fuck, I’m close, I’m so close - are you close again? What can I do? I w-want you to come again before I do,” Caleb insists, so exhausted from the exertion of his efforts that his hair sticks flat to his head.
“Don’t worry about -“
Caleb cuts you off by slipping his hand between your legs again, so hell bent on getting you there that he’s ignoring the painful ache in his both of his arms. He’s no longer moving you, simply rolling his hips up against yours, but it’s so intense that your vision begins to spot.
“C-Caleb,” you choke on the words.
“Come on, you can do it, come for me, okay? You can do it, you’re soooooo good.”
You tighten around his cock and a sharp cry escapes your lips as he presses his thumb against yours clit. He stills inside of you, focusing on your pleasure and how you fall apart from him.
“So pretty, so fucking pretty,” Caleb croons, his cock pulsing inside of you as you milk him.
It’s not just the feeling of you coming apart or the way you cry his name so prettily - it’s the tears rolling down your face and that gorgeous expression that only HE gets to see.
“All mine, just mine - never gonna leave me, right? You’re all. Fucking. Mine.”
Caleb punctuates his words with small, deliberate pumps and groans as he fills you.
It’s your turn to talk him through it - encourage him and make him feel good the way he did for you.
“All yours, just like you’re all mine, too,” you assure him, then lift your hands to push the sweaty hair back from his forehead.
“Pr-Promise?” He asks shakily. “Through it all?”
“And beyond that,” you murmur before pressing a kiss to his sticky skin.
You melt into each other, desperately trying to catch the breath you’ve lost to moans and sighs, then when you look at each other, dissolve into another fit of giggles.
“We’re disgusting,” you manage. “So gross.”
“Heeeeey, that happens to be the beautiful -ah,” Caleb slips out of you. “Um… essence of our love.”
“Alright, wordsmith - get me a towel to clean the ‘essence of our love’ off of me?”
“On it.”
After you’re both cleaned up and in fresh sets of Caleb’s clothes, he picks you up, his own legs shaking from the exertion, and carries you to the couch.
“Don’t feel like washin’ sheets right now. Wanna watch a movie? You can fall asleep on my chest in the first thirty minutes like you usually do.”
“Call me out,” you say, offended, but yawn. “Alright.”
“I’ll wake you up in the morning and take you to Zayne, okay?”
“You’re really -“
“Please? Just for my peace of mind? I’m not trying to be overbearing, but some of those gashes looked pretty bad, okay? Just to make sure nothing is infected?”
You sigh.
“You’re right.”
“Has been known to happen on occasion,” he chuckles, then pulls you closer to him so he can rest his chin on your head.
“Yeah, yeah. Just don’t wake me up too early? It IS my day off, after all.”
“I’ll give you a solid eight hours, I promise.”
“Caleb?”
“Huh?”
“I,” you trail off for a moment, looking for a way to phrase what you’re going to say, but settle for a simple, “I really am sorry.”
“Me too, pipsqueak. It’s in the past, and we’ll talk to each other from now on, okay? I’m never MAD at you, just…”
“Worried?”
“Yeah.”
“I worry, too,” you admit. “Just … don’t go silent on me, okay? I like knowing what you’re thinking, and I wanna be better for you just like you are for me.”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too. Now pick a movie before I pass out on you.”
Summary: Caleb and Zayne are good at reading you, and it comes especially in handy when they're wrecking you.
Pairing: Caleb X Fem reader X Zayne
Word count: 1.4 K
Tags/Warnings: submissive reader, subspace, dom and sub dynamics, praise, overstimulation
It’s almost scary, the way Zayne and Caleb seem to know you just as well as you know yourself. Sometimes, you think they might know even more when Caleb is between your legs and making you see stars, and Zayne is smoothing your hair back, bringing you back down when you drift.
“You must calm down,” Zayne whispers to you with his professional doctor’s cadence. “Your heart rate is going to get too high.”
“Needs to listen - notice she never listens to us? Thinks she knows better,” Caleb pipes up from between your thighs, breath fanning across your core.
“I’m fine,” you argue between breaths. “I know my limits!”
“You’re trembling rather violently for someone who claims to say they’re fine,” Zayne observes over the tops of his glasses, pondering when he should just get rid of the damn things.
“Needy, needy girl,” Caleb chides.
“Relax,” Zayne instructs, then crouches so he’s face-to-face with you.
Zayne lovingly brushes the wetness beneath your eyes away, taking care of the tears you hadn’t known you had shed.
“Kiss him,” Caleb commands as he slips a long finger inside of you. “Focus on his lips.”
Zayne's thin, delicate fingers brush your jaw on either side of your face, and he leans in to kiss you gently. He doesn’t seem to mind the fact that you’re gasping Caleb’s name into his mouth as the bastard sneaks another finger inside of you.
You’ve already come more times than you can count, and you suppose you’ve incurred the wrath of both men when you had confidently announced that you weren’t tired; that you haven’t had enough.
They had shared a look, long and silent, but with a mutual understanding you’d never decode.
They had just finished cleaning you up in the bathroom after taking turns eating you out, dedicated to your comfort and planning on you getting some rest, until you decided to be cocky.
“Oh, really?” Caleb had asked as he finally looked from Zayne to you.
“Right, because we deprive you,” Zayne had said in an uncharacteristically sarcastic voice, then jerked his head back to the direction of your bedroom.
“On your back,” Zayne adds. “Caleb and I will deal with you in a moment.”
You immediately started to rethink your demands.
After you did as they asked and lay on the bed, they left you hanging for five minutes.
Just when you began to get worried, Caleb came in carrying four bottles of water with Zayne in tow, holding a bag of mysterious contents.
“What’s all that?” You had propped yourself up on your elbows to ask.
“Hydration,” Caleb granted as his only explanation, and handed you one of the bottles. “Drink some now, or you’re getting nothing from us.”
Zayne didn’t answer, deciding you didn’t need to know just yet.
You drank the water as requested and lay back, eyeing Zayne wearily as he dug through the contents of the bag to produce a pink silicon object small enough to fit on his finger.
“Caleb,” he calls over his shoulder.
“Yessir?”
“Hold her arms, I don’t want her squirming.”
You came to find out that Zayne possessed a few vibrators, all of which he’d selected for you. The small finger vibrator was pleasant, the buzz delightful without being too overpowering. He held you down by the hip with one hand and brought you to a third orgasm with the other.
When you were recovering from the blissful and sort of gentle orgasm, Zayne tossed the small vibrator to the side.
“Caleb, keep a good hold of her, do you understand?”
“She ain’t going anywhere,” Caleb had chirped, and you felt his grip tighten.
“Wait, what?” You’d asked.
“We’re simply fulfilling your request since the first two weren’t enough,” Zayne said blandly as he fiddled with the bad to pull out what looked like a large microphone.
“Niiiice,” Caleb approved. “How many settings?”
“Four in varying intensities and four in varying patterns.”
Zayne pried your legs apart, giving you just enough time to recover from your last high to switch the new toy to life and bring it directly to your clit.
He made you come twice more as Caleb held you down.
“Had enough?” Zayne asked after switching the toy off and tossing it aside.
“I - I can handle -“ you tried to speak, but words were difficult.
Caleb scoffed.
“Ungrateful little brat,” he leaned down to taunt you as you trembled. “You still think you can take more?”
Now, you feel as though you may have flown too close to the Sun, but you’ll never tell them that.
Zayne’s hands are cool and pleasant as he strokes your cheeks. Caleb scissored his fingers inside of you and leaned down to gently suck your swollen clit between his lips.
“It’s alright,” Zayne soothes. “You can give us another, can’t you?”
“She’s so fucking wet, we’re going to have to change the sheets again,” Caleb says in awe as he pulls back to give you a moment’s reprieve.
“That’s fine,” Zayne says lamely. “Should we do that now, or does she want to test her limits more?”
“T-talking about me like I’m n-not h-here,” you struggle to say as Caleb pulls his fingers out of you to bring them to his lips.
“She speaks,” Caleb marvels sardonically before popping his fingers in his mouth to savor your taste.
“How are you feeling?” Zayne prompts you now that you’ve gathered your energy.
“G-great, I could d-do this all night,” you find yourself saying as if to challenge them.
“Bullshit,” Caleb fully sits up. “You’re exhausted, and as Zayne said, we don’t need your heart rate goin’ up.”
“I ca n't-take it - I want you to f-fuck me.” You insist, craving them both inside you so badly you can ignore the exhaustion.
“Are you certain?” Zayne asks skeptically, and he cups your face to tilt your head back so you can see him clearly.
“I-I’ve never felt better. Want you two to feel as good as I do,”
“We do, sweetheart,” Caleb rushes, hating to think that you’re worried about pleasing them.
They take a moment from edging you to the point of tears to reassure you that they’re enjoying themselves, just making you feel good. Caleb peppers soft kisses down the insides of your thighs, and Zayne tilts your chin with his forefinger and thumb to keep your gaze fixed on him.
“So perfect, that’s our girl,” Caleb hums and lightly squeezes your thighs. “This is all about you, right now. Bit off a lil’ more than you could chew, huh?”
“N-no, I can take it, I want it -“
“You aren’t listening to us or your body, are you?” Zayne asks sternly.
“You knoooow,” Caleb drawls. “He IS a doctor… You should probably pay attention to what the medical professional is saying…”
A small, imperceptible smile tugs at the corners of Zayne’s lips before he composes his expression.
“You were drifting before.”
“I w-was?”
“Not entirely, but I think multiple, repeated, and unrelenting orgasms can do that to a person,” Zayne strokes your cheek with the hand he isn’t using to grip your chin.
“Oh…”
“Yeah,” Caleb echoes. “Oh.”
“I think you may have had enough,” Zayne assesses and looks to Caleb.
“Yeeeeah,” Caleb sighs. “I was havin’ fun down here, too. Are you going to get her all cleaned up while I go make some food?”
“Yes, she’ll need her strength.”
“I will?” You ask excitedly.
“Promise to behave?” Caleb asks as he stands. “You know, if you’re gonna be a brat about it again,n we’re not gonna play games with you.”
“Promise,” you smile shakily, relaxing into Zayne’s touch as he gently cradles the back of your neck to lift you in a sitting position.
Caleb taps your thigh affectionately, then makes his way to the nightstand where Zayne had placed his mystery bag. He produces a washcloth and tosses it to Zayne, who catches it without looking.
“Did my best to clean her up with my tongue, but she’s just soooo wet.”
“That’s not my fault,” you grumble.
“Sit for me,” Zayne pulls back to move between your legs and carefully drags the cloth along your damp flesh.
Caleb disappears into your kitchen to provide much-needed fuel.
“Drink your water,” Zayne instructs, not asking.
After making sure you’re all wiped and your breathing has regulated, Zayne pulls you to your feet and makes sure you’re steady.
“In my professional opinion, you need sleep,” Zayne says as he helps you to the kitchen.
“What about your opinion as one of my boyfriends?”
Zayne helps you to your chair, then turns his attention to Caleb.
“You’re in for a long night, pipsqueak,” Caleb answers for him. “Now eat up, because we haven’t even gotten started with you.”
18 + MDNI Your first time with Caleb is incredibly sweet and sexy, but also very, very awkward and clumsy
Caleb is so nervous that he’s shaking so badly he can’t even open the condom packet, and you’re reaching over to try to help and accidentally head butting him.
“What was that for?” He cries as he blinks rapidly, little tears of pain from the collision brimming at the ducts.
“I was just trying to help,” you complain. “Why did you pick THAT second to look up?!”
It takes that moment for both of you to look at each other incredulously, then dissolve into a fit of laughter when you realize how ridiculous the situation is.
You take that moment to get out the shakes, and when Caleb leans forward to kiss you, you’re both more grounded.
18 + MDNI Giving Caleb the sloppiest head because you’re a little inexperienced and he’s just soooo big and he’s struggling to keep his hips still, fighting to keep himself from coming too soon and begging you to slow down because he can’t take it anymore.
Whimpering hoarsely, begging you, “baby pleeeeease, please I can’t - I can’t last much longer if you keep doing it like th-that-“
Summary: Caleb's been working hard, and you want to show him how proud of him you are.
Pairing: Caleb X Fem reader
Word count: 2.2 K
Tags/Warnings: submissive Caleb, soft dom MC, riding, hand jobs, praise, vocal caleb, whiney caleb, dirty talk
Caleb is so far gone for you that the moment your lips meet his after a particularly grueling work day, he melts. He’s putty in your capable hands, so malleable for whatever you want him to be or do, so long as he’s there with you.
“You’re affectionate today,” you laugh as Caleb attacks your neck with insistent kisses.
“Missed you,” he complains, and you can hear how tired he is.
You frown.
“You ate lunch today, right? The leftovers from dinner?”
“Uh-huh,” he affirms, not moving his lips away from you.
“Very good,” you pull back so you can look at him properly.
Both his eyelids and lips droop, and you can tell today is weighing down on him.
“Hungry?”
“No,” he wraps you in his arms, his large body dwarfing yours. “Just for you.”
“Caleb,” you warn. “Lunch was forever ago. Let’s make dinner.”
“Okay,” he concedes. “I’ll make something quick, and -“
“No,” you say firmly. “You’re exhausted. I know you didn’t get much sleep. You need to take better care of yourself.”
“But you -“
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll make us something.”
“I always worry about you,” Caleb murmurs.
“Well, right now, I want you to worry about changing. Get into some comfortable clothes, and I’ll have dinner ready soon, okay?”
“Are you sure you don’t want -“
“Positive, don’t ask me again.”
Caleb looks conflicted, but accepts that you won’t budge and is too tired to argue.
You steam some fish and grab some leftover rice to keep things simple, knowing Caleb won’t have much of an appetite anyway.
You’re proven correct when you see him pushing the food around his plate.
“What’s wrong? Not good?”
“What? No, no, it’s good - I’m just tired.”
“Okay,” you say, discouraged when you realize he’s only eaten a little bit. “But promise me you’ll have something later, even if it’s small.”
“Okaaaaay,” he sing-songs at you jovially, snickering when you give him a dirty look.
“Pain, you’re nothing but a pain,” you sigh, but stand up and begin clearing the table.
Caleb tries to help, which you scoff at, and tell him to go sit down. You want to take care of him the way he takes care of you, and even though he’s more of a physical touch person, acts of service are one of your ways to show you care.
You find Caleb sitting on his couch - not relaxing, but tense in the fixed set of his jaw and the tautness of his shoulders.
“Feel like taking a shower?” You ask.
“You invitin’ me to one or telling me I can go first?” Caleb presses, clearly interested.
“Inviting,” you tell him, and the grin that splits his face despite all of that exhaustion is a hundred watts. “I’m gonna wash you, okay?”
“Is it my birthday?”
“Come on, I want to watch a movie with you before bed.”
Caleb has a spring in his step when he jumps up to go to the restroom with you, and that grin never fades. He lifts his arms for you to take his shirt off and bites his lip when you touch his bare skin.
“Fuck,” he breaths when you crouch to tug his pajama pants and boxers down.
“Caleb, really?” You huff when his cock practically hits you in the face.
“What? You’re gonna undress me and tell me you’re planning on washing me and expect me not to react? I get hard when you 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 at me! That’s unfair.”
“I just figured you were too tired-“
“Okay, that’s a load of shit, and you know it - I am 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 too tired.”
“Yeah, yeah, get in the shower, horny boy.”
“I am not a horny boy, pipsqueak. I’m a horny man.” Caleb retorts.
“Semantics. You wanna see me naked or not?”
“Very much so, yes.”
“In.”
Caleb starts the shower, and you undress swiftly, knowing that if you’d let Caleb do it, neither of you would make it to the shower. You step in, and Caleb’s eyes glaze over.
“That never gets old,” he says hoarsely. “Fuck, you’re stunning…”
“You’re pretty stunning, yourself.”
And it’s true. As much as you try to tell yourself you just want to take care of him and help him feel better, the sight of his naked body does do things to you. You’re just as obsessed with him as he is with you, and the sight of Caleb, naked and wet, makes you swallow thickly.
“You make me feel attractive,” Caleb admits as he steps forward to close the distance between the two of you. “You make me feel wanted.”
“You are,” you insist, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck. “I want you all the time, but -“
“I don’t like that, “but” …”
“But,” you press. “We have to get you clean, and your body needs rest today.”
“I feel restless around you, though,” Caleb says huskily, and you can see his cock twitch against your thigh.
“I’ll take care of you, okay?” You promise. “You trust me to take care of you?”
“Yeah, I trust you with my life.”
You beam.
“Great. Hand me that body wash?”
Caleb allows you to wash him, and despite his pressing needs, he’s on his best behavior. He wants to be good for you. The arms and chest are no big deal, but once you get lower, he begins to tremble.
“Your hands are so gentle,” he compliments you throatily, and you can see him flexing and unflexing his fingertips at his sides.
“Yeah? Do you like it when I do this for you?”
“So much.”
You crouch to get his legs, thankful that he’s blocking the shower spray, and lick your lips as you come face to face with his cock.
“Still so hard,” you muse. “Is it painful?”
“It’s fine,” Caleb lies.
You delicately wrap your fingers around him to soap his cock up, and he moans.
“Can’t - you can’t do that, or -“
“Or what? You’ll come?” You look up at him, and he makes the mistake of looking back.
His cock throbs in your hands.
“Please, I don’t want you to feel like ya gotta deal with it just because it’s in your face like that.”
“I don’t feel like I have to do anything, Caleb. Ask me nicely to touch you some more since you’ve been such a good boy today.”
“Pipsqueak -“
“You just have to ask me nicely.”
“Please,” he breaks with no pressing, wrapped completely around your finger. “Please touch me? I’ve been so good - I - I worked really hard today,y and all I’ve wanted to do is be near you.”
“Yes, you’ve been so good,” you praise him and slowly begin moving your hand.
“I have, I swear, fuck - fffuck,” he struggles to maintain his balance as you gently jerk him off.
You can tell Caleb wants more, but you keep your grip light and loose.
He doesn’t ask for anything else.
“So good for me, Caleb. I wonder…”
“Huh?”
“I wonder how good? Tell me something you’ve done well for me, and I might reward you.”
Caleb presses his hand against the wall to steady himself, and his head lolls back.
“I - fuck - I got all of my paperwork done today,”
“Very good,” you pick up your pace to encourage him. “Have you been drinking enough water?”
“Y-yes, oh, fuck - your hand-“
“How much today?” You demand and squeeze his cock gently as punishment for not answering properly.
“Three refills of my large b-bottle,” he hisses through his teeth.
“Very good.”
You notice Caleb’s thighs quaking - a tell-tale sign that he’s close. Instead of making him come with a measly hand job, you stand.
“All clean.”
Caleb looks disappointed, but says nothing.
“Don’t give me that look,” you tease. “Just getting my seat ready.”
Caleb’s eyes widen comically.
“For real?”
“Yes, now let me wash your hair so we can get out!”
You wash Caleb’s hair and then focus on getting yourself clean while he dries off, insisting he lie on the bed to relax while you take care of your business.
He looked dejected when you wouldn’t let him wash you, but cheered up at the prospect of sex.
You don’t bother with clothes after drying off and walk into his bedroom naked. Caleb looks at you like he hadn’t just showered with you, gaze reverent and hungry.
“So beautiful,” he marvels. “Come here.”
“Nope, you’re not in charge today. I am. Don’t tell me what to do.”
“Fuck… I love it when you get bossy,” Caleb groans.
You walk over, then swing your leg up and over his waist so you’re straddling him with no barriers and pressed right where he wants you to be.
“I love you so much, I’ve been thinking about you all day.”
“I think about you all the time, too,” you admit, then flatten your palms against his chest to push him back.
He gets the message and eagerly obeys, pliant and submissive, just waiting for you to tell him what’s next.
You lift yourself, take hold of his still hard cock, and position yourself over it.
“Wait, honey - you’re not -“
“I’m ready,” you protest, and slowly sink down on him. “You think you’re the only one that gets turned on?”
“N-no, fuck - fuck,” Caleb moans. “You’re so warm, s-so wet - is that all for me? Do you promise?”
“Yes, sweetheart, it’s all for you,” you manage between deep breaths, the angle making him hit a spot inside of you so deep it makes your eyelids flutter. “You feel so good.”
“I do? Do you promise? You swear I make you feel as good as you make me feel?” Caleb is rambling, but you indulge him.
“Yes, you’re so big and thick and ah -“ you gasp as he thrusts up into you. “You’re a-supposed to be letting me take care of you!”
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I can’t help it - you’re so tight, and ffffffuuuck, I can’t help it - I love you so much, I’m trying to be good -“
You grind your hips against his and flatten your palms against his chest for stability and leverage, unable to keep yourself up without holding on to something.
“Please, baby, please, fuck - I wanna fuck you so badly, please I need it - I need it,” Caleb whimpers.
Caleb’s voice has taken on a tone of desperation that makes you feel lightheaded, and he’s so needy and submissive that it eats at you that you have to let him come.
“Gonna be so good, I swear I’m gonna be so good for you, baby, please, pppppleeeease, I need to come inside of you, need it so badly if you’ll let me - will you let me?”
You can barely focus on anything he’s saying because he’s babbling so much that you’re getting overwhelmed.
“C-Caleb, you’re -“
“So close, baby, I’m so ffffucking close, I need it -fuck me, please, you’re fucking me so good, don’t stop - don’tstopdon’tstopdon’tstop-“
Caleb grips your hips until his fingernails bite into your skin, leaving behind crescent-shaped indentations.
“You can,” you grant him permission, so captivated by the way his face flushed and the way he’s trying his best to obey and not just buck into you and take what he needs. “You can come for me, you can be a good boy and come just for me, y-yeah?”
Your say-so is the only thing that’s been holding Caleb back, and as soon as that pretty permission leaves your lips, Caleb is emptying himself inside of you with a choked, animalistic groan.
“Love you so much - so lucky, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me - please never leave me, I need you so badly, I want you close to me all the time,” Caleb pants, barely able to string together a coherent sentence.
He sits up as best as he can and pulls you back down with him.
“I love you, I love you - Iloveyousomuch, loveyousofuckingmuch,” Caleb rattles off in hot puffs next to your ear, wrapping his arms around you so tightly you can’t leave even if you want to.
“I love you, too. You did so well,” you soothe him, liking this needy, reliant side.
Caleb is always so fussed with making sure you’re taken care of, and you appreciate it more than you can express, but there’s something so beautiful in the way he shows you his vulnerable side - the way he lets you take care of him for once - that you feel your throat tighten.
“Need to let me take care of you more often,” you murmur as you stroke his hair, still damp from the shower. “Gonna need to clean you up again after this.”
“Later,” Caleb croaks. “If it’s okay, can you hold me like this for a while longer?”
“I’ll hold you along as you want,” you assure him. “Just remember that the longer we put off showering, the longer we put off getting back to bed.”
“Mm, don’t care. I like it. I smell like 𝘺𝘰𝘶.”
“Okay,” you say before kissing his cheek. “Thirty minutes, okay?”
“Will you wash me again?”
“Absolutely.”
“Deal,” Caleb concedes, and shortly falls into a light, peaceful sleep.
Caleb worships the ground you walk on. He loves you so fiercely and so intensely that there aren’t many things he wouldn’t do for you. Praise is never wasted on you, but sometimes, when he has you naked and pliant beneath him, he can’t help that little switch that flips.
You’re spread out on his bed, wearing nothing but his XL fleet sweatshirt that you’ve so sweetly taken off his hands. Your thighs quake, slick with a mixture of your arousal and Caleb’s saliva. Caleb is fully clothed and takes your naked legs to wrap them around his waist.
“Awwwwe, you’re shaking,” Caleb observes, then clicks his tongue in a mock dissatisfaction. “How pathetic that you can’t even last a few minutes with me - am I that gifted or are you just that desperate?”
“Don’t be mean,” you pout, crossing your legs together for some friction.
Caleb pries them apart so you can’t get any satisfaction.
“Mean? You think I’m being’ mean? Poor baby’s so coddled and cared for, she doesn’t know what “mean” really is.”
Caleb presses his clothed cock against you, not caring that you’re staining the fabric with your arousal.
He’ll wear that shit proudly, either way.
“Mm, feel that? You know what’s really mean?” Caleb presses harder into you, smirking when you gasp.
“What I think is really mean,” Caleb continues, delighting in watching you writhe against him. “Is sending me a particularly nasty text about what you’re doing to yourself while you’re thinking of me while I’m aaaaaalll the way over at my office and working overtime.”
“I didn’t mean to -“
“What 𝘐 think is mean,” Caleb cuts you off. “Is finding you in 𝘮𝘺 bed wearing 𝘮𝘺 sweatshirt with your fingers in your panties, and you don’t even have the decency to act sheepish when you get caught.”
You say nothing, partially because the way he’s grinding against you feels so good you can’t find words, and partially because he’s right. You know what you did.
“You’re not even a little ashamed, are you?” Caleb cocks his head to the side, eyes dark as he drinks in the sight of you.
You shake your head, deciding there’s no need for theatrics when you’re getting what you want, anyway. Caleb scoffs.
“Unbelievable. You get to be a desperate little slut while I’m at work, and I have to just deal with it while you get yourself off in my bed? Selfish.”
“I didn’t mean to be selfish, I just missed you and the room smells like you…”
“So you have no choice but to fuck yourself into such a frenzy that my entire bed is covered in you? Not to mention the fact that after I ate you out, you still had more to give me.”
“I’m sorry -“
“Don’t say things you don’t mean, pipsqueak. Wow, you’re so pathetic, look at you. So sweaty you’re practically wet all over. I really make you go this stupid, huh? Just turn your brain off and feel when it comes to me?”
“I’m sorry, I just -“
“Need my cock that badly?”
You nod, desperate for him to touch you - to let you touch yourself - but his grip on either of your thighs is firm as he keeps your legs apart.
“So turned on and dumb for me that you can’t even tell me what you need? You need me to fill in the blanks?”
“I n-need your cock,” you stammer, the filthy word foreign on your lips.
“Mm, that didn’t sound very convincing. Poor baby, so useless when she’s horny, she can’t even say what she wants. Let me ask you something,”
Caleb licks his lips, eyes fixed between your spread legs.
“What makes you think you deserve it? You’ve been really bad, you know. You’re lucky I gave you that first orgasm - on second thought - that probably wasn’t even the first time you came today. Tell me.”
“Tell you what?”
Caleb’s eyes meet yours.
“How many times you made yourself come while thinking about me today.”
“I don’t - I don’t know,” you struggle with the words, dizzy with pleasure and aching for me.
“Desperate little brat can’t even count how many times she made herself come? Wow. That’s really pathetic.”
“I - twice.”
“Liar,” Caleb clicks his tongue. “But I’ll let it slide.”
“I just missed you so much, and whenever I think about you I think about …”
“Me making you feel good? Me fucking you so good you’re crying for me? You know, your tears are so, so sweet. Almost makes me wanna take pity on you.”
“Please, I’ll be good,”
“I don’t think you will,” Caleb says doubtfully, a chuckle of disbelief escaping when he sees you squirm. “Always talking back, giving me attitude, demanding more … such a greedy little brat.
You try to break free from his grasp to rub your legs together, but he’s too fast.
“There it is, already misbehaving not a moment after saying you’ll be good. You’re so transparent. Alright. Wanna be fucked that badly?”
You nod. Caleb’s eyes glow with a mischievous glint.
“Close your eyes.”
You do as he asks and feel the mattress rise with the absence of his weight. A metallic clicking sound confuses you, but becomes clear when you feel the chill of stainless steel around your wrist.
Caleb clasps the handcuffs closed and secures the other around your other wrist.
“Now stay still,” Caleb coos and presses a deceptively sweet kiss to your forehead. “The more you move or try to get one over on me, the longer I’ll leave you wanting.”
Summary: You're missing Caleb with every passing day and can't help but wish he were here. Little do you know, Caleb has a surprise up his sleeve.
Pairing: Caleb X Fem reader
Word count: 1.7 K
Tags/Warnings: intimacy after a while, impatience, teasing
Caleb has been away for weeks, and it’s felt like a lifetime for both of you. He calls at night when he has a moment, his voice strained and heavy with exhaustion, making you feel guilty for keeping him up.
“You’re more important than an extra hour of sleep, pipsqueak.”
He texts you as much as he can, and those short phone calls have become your favorite part of the day, but you long to hear that laugh in person - to feel his calloused, strong hand in yours. Caleb is faring no better, but he fakes it pretty well.
Caleb doesn’t tell you he’s home earlier than he’s expecting, hell-bent on soaking in your hopefully excited surprise when you see him face to face. He presses your contact and holds his phone to his ear as his legs carry him to your unit. You pick up on the second ring.
“Caleb,” you gush, unable to keep excitement at bay. “You’re calling earlier tonight.”
“Mhm,” Caleb hums, then mutes himself for a moment so you don’t hear him pressing your elevator buttons.
“How was your day?”
“Busy,” he says after unmuting you. “Beyond excited to unwind.”
“You’ve been working so hard. You deserve it.”
“What, not gonna tease me about it like ya usually do?” Caleb snorts.
“No,” you say softly. “I know it’s been a lot for you. I’m proud of you.”
“I’m proud of you, too, pipsqueak. What have you been up to? Start any more fires?”
“That was once,” you bite back with an annoyance creeping into your voice that makes Caleb chuckle. “They should make curtains less flammable!”
“Right, n,o of course - they should also make candles less flammable while they’re at it.”
“You’re a jerk. Maybe I don’t miss you.”
“That’s a shaaaaaaame,” Caleb drawls. “You don’t wanna see me?”
“Not if you’re being like -“
Caleb rings your doorbell, once again taking care to mute himself when he does.
“Hang on - someone’s at the door.”
Caleb keeps his cell phone up to his ear, unable to contain his excitement when he hears you padding to the door. He covers the peephole with his thumb.
“Who is it?” You call.
“Delivery?” Caleb throws his voice again, muting the phone so you don’t get feedback.
“Oh, that’s so funny. It said it would take twenty minutes,” you mutter, but open the door.
“Special delivery, prime hunk of man meat, ordered just for you,” Caleb says slyly when you meet his gaze, your eyes wide with confusion.
“Caleb!”
“Thought you didn’t miss me - oh!”
You cut Caleb off by barreling him over with an intense, all-encompassing hug. He laughs despite dropping everything he’s holding. Who cares if you broke his phone? He can always get another.
“You jerk! Why didn’t you tell me you were coming home today?”
“Surprised ya, huh?”
You pull away to look him in the eyes, your own a little misty.
“Hey,” he says quickly, immediately stopping his teasing. “Hey, don’t cry. I’m here. I should’ve called first.”
“N-no, I just missed you.”You shake your head, then bury your face in his neck.
“You really ordered delivery?” Caleb asks as he soothingly rubs your back.
“Mm,” you murmur against his neck. “Before you called.”
“Wow, I’m good, come on, ya big baby.”
Caleb scoops you up so you can wrap your legs around his waist in a display of strength that never ceases to amaze you.
He bends with you in his arms to pick up his bag and his phone, pleased when he sees no visible damage.
“Nearly knocked me over,” he chortles. “You’re a lot stronger than you look.”
“Who’s talking? Did you get bigger?”
“Nah, think you just went too long without seeing me.”
“Too long,” you press a small kiss to his neck, and Caleb shivers.
“Y-yeah, way too long… your lips feel so good.” Caleb clears his throat.
“You feel good,” you counter, thankful for his strength. “Love how you can just pick me up like this …”
“Oh, you’re evil,”
“Am I?” You press yourself harder against him, then slowly drag your tongue from the base of his throat to his jaw.
“Fuck, I was trying to be good,” Caleb swears, dropping his bag so he can use both of his arms to back you against the wall.
“You’re so good,” you praise.
“Oh, noooooo,” he croons as he grinds his hips into yours, already aching and hard just from the simplest touches. “I’m not being good right now, but guess what?”
“Hmm?”
“It’s your fault.”
“What are you going to do about it?” You taunt, head thrown back in bliss as he moves his hips against yours.
“I was going to wine and dine you tonight, treat you like royalty because I missed you so much, but it seems as though you have a one-track mind.”
“Says the guy who sent me a dick picture two days ago.”
“Says the thorn in my side that told me she wanted to ride me until I saw stars,” Caleb counters. “Or do you enjoy starting things we can’t finish?”
“Wow, got me there,” you smirk, then lean forward so your lips are centimeters apart. “Who said I didn’t plan on finishing?”
Caleb looks at you, eyebrows drawn together and tongue sweeping along his lower lip.
“Later,” he says finally. “Right now I just want to eat you out.”
“What a forward young man you are,” you giggle as he gently puts you down.
“Forward? You’ve been teasing me for two weeks,” he complains. “You’re way hornier than I am! Think you do it on purpose.”
“Yeeeeah,” you admit.
“Yeah? You like getting me worked up?”
“Can’t help it, you’re just so …. Easy…”
“Brat,” Caleb scoffs as he tugs your pajama pants down, then raises an eyebrow as he looks up at you. “No panties?”
“I’m in the comfort of my own home.”
“How thoughtful of you to make this easier for me,” Caleb coos.
“I didn’t even know you would be back - oh,” you breathe as he presses a kiss just above where you need him most.
“What’sat?” He asks, but gives you no chance to answer as he slides his fingertips up the insides of your thighs. “Will I not find you soaking fucking wet for me?”
“Caleb,” you whine, resolve breaking as he begins to touch you everywhere but where you need him to.
“Patience for me, hm? Have I not been extreeeeemely patient with you? Sending me all those dirty texts, making me all hard for you when you know I can’t do anything about it.”
“Please,” you beg. “Seriously, please.”
“Hmmmm, I dunnoooo,” Caleb coos. “I was thinking’ I’d take my time with you today… seeing as I’ve missed you so much and all. Gonna go sloooow, really savor you, yanno?”
“Caleb,” you bite out, knowing he’s just fucking with you.
“Whaaaat?” he asks in that annoying sexy tone, and you hate how much his mocking turns you on.
“Please. Please…I need this.”
“Need… what?” He asks, playing dumb as he drags his fingertips up your thigh, right next to where he can feel that intense heat.
“Touch me, please, I missed you - I need you,” you give it up, unable to take it. “Please.”
“Fuck, that’s a good girl, begging for me all pretty like that,” Caleb groans and presses his fingers against your entrance, a shit-eating grin stretching his lips.
“Wow.”
“Don’t make fun of-“
“Fuuuuck,” he marvels as he slips two of his fingers easily inside of you. LGuess there’s no reason to wear panties if you’re just gonna go and get them all wet.”
“Don’t tease!”
“Tell me,” he muses as he twists his fingers. “Is this from just now?”
“Wh-what do you mean?”
“Well,” Caleb continues conversationally, like he isn’t at all affected by you, even though he’s throbbing in his pants. “You’re soaking wet, and I really doubt that’s just from right now…”
“What -“
“Does my voice make you wet like this?”
“It’s - I -“
“It does,” Caleb discovers gleefully when you clench around his fingers. “You’ve been like this since you called me.”
“What does it matter?” You huff, voice strained.
“You may say I’m easy,” Caleb chuckles. “But you’re just as pathetic as I am, aren’t you?”
“You’re so annoying. You’re such a loser, and I can’t stand you.” You roll your eyes.
“Ohhhh, she wants to fuck the annoying loser, wonder what that says about her?”
Caleb silences your retort with a simple, gentle kitten lick. Your half-baked insult dies in your throat.
“Fuck, ‘s so good,” he praises, savoring the taste of you on his lips before diving back in.
Your hands find purchase in his hair, and you find a small sense of satisfaction in the way he whimpers when you pull it.
Caleb is so particular and often gets caught up in the minutiae. Sometimes it bothers you, because why does he have to redo your dishwasher before he runs it? Sometimes you’re grateful, because you never have to change plans when something doesn’t work out.
More than anything, you have come to rely on his proclivity for thoroughness, and right now you ache for it.
There is nothing unpracticed or unskilled in the way he worships your body. Neither of you has had experience when it comes to physical intimacy outside of one another.
Caleb has committed everything about you to memory. From your favorite food to the body wash you prefer, and down to the way your toes curl when he drags his tongue against you, he knows all of you.
“That’s it, there she is,” he speaks encouragingly through his slick lips.
“I’m -“
“Close? I know,”
Caleb says sweetly. “Already? I haven’t even gotten to slip my tongue in yet…”
“Oh,” you clench your legs around his head at those words.
“Should I drag it out?” Caleb wonders, though the question is rhetorical. “Maybe make you wait like I had to?”
“Caleeeeeeb,” you whine.
“Whaaaaaaat?” Caleb copies your tone.
“Please. I’ll - I’ll get you back.”
“First off, I’m offended you think this is transactional. Secondly, I’ve been craving this, just a shame it’s gotta end so early. Oh, well.”
“What?”
“Guess I’ll just get to make you come more than once.”
Summary: Caleb knows you've had a hard day and he's here to make it all better.
Pairing: Caleb X Fem reader
Word count: 1.8 K
Tags/Warnings: doting Caleb, foot rubs [and a little foot worship], oral sex, some fluff with your smut, scent kink if you squint
Caleb knows you’ve been working hard and wants to pamper you - wants to help you feel relaxed in any way that he can. He starts the day by setting the tone with sweet texts.
[Caleb 🐥🍎] get ready :p I made sure to marinate the chicken, and I’m cooking for you right now!
[Caleb 🐥🍎] oh! Btw! I bought some of those fruit candies you’ve been wanting!
[Caleb 🐥🍎] also pick a number 1-10
[Me] Ummm…… 8! What for?
[Caleb 🐥🍎] Secret :) see you soon :p
When you get to Caleb’s apartment, you unlock the door and are greeted with the comforting scent of his cooking. Mild spices and herbs waft from the kitchen, immediately making you feel calmer, especially after the day you’ve had.
“Caleb?” You call as you remove your shoes.
“Squeaks!” He answers you, the Marco Polo game making you smile. “Kitchen! C’mere!”
You hang your bag on a hook he keeps by the front door and make your way to the kitchen to find his kitchen in slight disarray.
“How many dishes did you use?” You laugh and pick up one of the three cutting boards he has out.
“Um,” He ponders, then turns to face you.
He’s wearing one of his shirts from the band you complain is too loud and a poorly tied “kiss the cook” apron. The sight warms your heart.
“Alright, maybe I could have used less, but don’t pay any attention to the mess, ‘Kay?”
“I can help you with the dishes -“ you try to offer, but Caleb scoffs and rolls his eyes.
“What? No, absolutely not - go sit down.”
“But -“
“Sit, please? I’ll deal with all of this stuff later. Let’s eat. I made one of your favorite chicken recipes.”
With a little more back talk, Caleb finally convinces you just to sit down and places an admittedly delicious-looking plate in front of you.
After you’ve eaten your first and second helpings, Caleb rushes you off to the bathroom so you can shower away your difficult day while he takes care of the mess.
“Just go, will ya? I left that old Space Saviors shirt and those sweatpants you like on the counter.”
True to his word, Caleb has set everything up for you and even included a fresh bottle of your favorite body wash. He must have remembered you mentioning that you’ve been running out much quicker than usual.
As you shower, the knots in your body become a little less painful, and the fresh scent of your body wash relaxes you along with the comfort of the warm water. It doesn’t hurt that Caleb’s shower head has about eight different settings and amazing water pressure.
When you leave the bathroom, draped in his clothes, you see that Caleb has left a new, fluffy pair of slippers out for you. You laugh to yourself, but slip them on and sigh at how plush and comfortable they are.
“Pipsqueak, you all clean?”
You meet Caleb in his living room, illuminated by the soft glow of some strategically placed candles.
“All clean, what’s all this for, Caleb?”
“You’ve been havin’ a rough time with work, right? I’m relaxing, you, Pipsqueak. Get comfortable, yeah? I’m gonna rub your feet.”
“You remember me telling you about my bad shoes?” You ask and sit on the couch, feeling incredibly seen.
“Mhmm, I told you that those weren’t good and you really should be wearing inserts,”
Caleb lectures as he kneels in front of you.
“Whatever you say, colonel.”
“Riiiight, ya never listen to me,” Caleb scoffs, but lifts your left foot to prop it on his knee.
He plucks your slipper off and slowly begins kneading the sole of your foot, taking care to pay attention to your little winces to adjust pressure.
Caleb is thorough, like he is with everything, and before moving on to your right foot, he places a sweet little kiss on the tips of your toes.
“Tickles,” you giggle.
“Yeah?” Caleb grins. “You like it?”
“Don’t know - it’s nice, but it’s a little strange?”
“Strange? Liiiiiiike bad, strange, or good strange?”
“Keep going, I’ll decide.” You lift your right foot for him to take instead, and he chuckles.
“As you wish.”
Caleb gives the same treatment to your right foot as he did your left, and the aches and pains begin to ebb until they’re muted.
“It’s nice,” you hum. “How are you so good at this?”
“Research,” Caleb looks up at you, violet eyes sparkling. “So… good strange?”
“Good strange.”
“Good,” Caleb murmurs, then wraps both sets of fingers around your foot to bring the tips of your toes to his lips.
“That’s not gross?” You wonder.
“Not one part of you is gross to me,” Caleb says seriously. “Besides, you’re clean, anyway.”
He places a light kiss on your toe.
Caleb moves a little closer to you and drapes your foot over his shoulder. His eyes meet yours as if he’s silently asking permission.
“Feels nice,” you encourage, voice pitched a little higher as your breathing becomes unsteady.
Caleb’s hair tickles your calf as he leans forward and begins peppering soft, feather-light kisses up your leg until he reaches your kneecap.
“Smell so good,” he says shakily. “Love how you smell. So sweet.”
“That’s - that’s just because I showered,”
You point out.
Caleb takes a deep breath and lets out a shuddery, belabored exhale.
“Mm, nah - you always smell good. It’s just … you. Fuck,” Caleb swears, almost like he’s scolding himself.
“What? Is something wrong?”
“I was just going to give you a little foot rub, but… I think I wanna help you relax a little more - can I?”
“If you want to, but don’t go to trouble, it’s really -“
“Gonna take these sweats off, okay?” Caleb interrupts.
With your nod, Caleb settles between your legs so he’s right between your thighs and hooks his fingers into your waistband to remove the offending fabric.
Once you’re free, Caleb tucks his hands underneath your thighs to pull them over his shoulders and groans at your scent.
“C-Caleb, you don’t have to,” you assure him, but he’s already missing the insides of your thighs.
“Mm, you don’t want me to?”
“It’s not that I don’t want you to, it’s that you’ve done a lot for me today.”
“Oh, sweetheart, this isn’t just for you,” Caleb coos.
Caleb rests his hands on your thighs to secure them over his shoulders and drags his lips from the inner part of your thigh to the waistband of your panties.
“Been thinking about this all day,” he sighs.
“About this?”
“Mhmmm,” Caleb murmurs as his lips travel south, just over your heat through the fabric. “Smells so good - will you let me make you feel good? Can I take these off - please?”
“Y-yeah, I haven’t shaved or anything, and -“
“Fuck, thank you,” Caleb groans, not caring about the disclaimers as he pulls back to take your panties off.
He can’t be bothered to take them off entirely, so once he’s freed one leg, he simply lets the fabric drape off the other.
You can’t be certain, but you think you hear Caleb let out a little whine right before he leans in to flatten his tongue against you.
You feel Caleb trembling, and his fingers dig into your thighs, like he’s on the cusp of losing control and needs to ground himself.
Caleb drags his tongue against you again, collecting every bit of your arousal he can, and shudders. Your fingers find purchase in his hair as he eagerly laps at you, desperate to taste everything you have to give him.
He’s desperate, all tongue and nearly no precision as he covers you - tastes you so thoroughly and leaves behind his own scent, aching to cover both of you in each other.
“Sssssooo good,” he slurs as he catches his breath just to dive right back in.
Caleb draws his tongue to the top of your entrance to prod at your clit, flicking here and there in slow, precise motions. He’s less focused on tasting you and more on pleasing you, using the changes in your breathing and the sweet little moans you let out as a guide.
It never takes Caleb long to make you come once he’s devoted his focus to the task, and he has you writhing beneath him in a matter of minutes. You’re embarrassingly close - you’ll blame it on the work stress, but Caleb knows better, taking great pride in mapping out your bliss.
You tug at Caleb’s hair, and the worry of his discomfort that plagues you slowly dissipates as his grip on you tightens, and the pace of his tongue quickens. He knows he’s got you right there, and all he cares about is bringing you the pleasure he knows you deserve.
Caleb soothes you as you shatter, flattening his tongue to let you grind against it as ecstasy permeates your body. He laps up everything you have to give him, face drenched in a mixture of your arousal and his own saliva - an absolute mess of a man.
“That’s it, that’s my baby,” Caleb encourages you as your legs turn to jelly and your brain melts. “Just relax for me, just lie back and relax - I’ll clean you up, okay?”
Caleb gently lifts your thighs off his shoulders and stands to swivel your body fully onto the couch. He plucks the forgotten pair of panties from your ankle to make you a little more comfortable grabs the discarded sweatpants to launder along with them.
“I can just put them back on,” you say, dazed from the pleasure and relaxation that’s loosening your body.
“I have fresh clothes, just lay back for me, ‘Kay?” Caleb assures you, then disappears into his room.
He comes back mere minutes later with a damp cloth, a pair of his own boxers, and some new sweatpants.
He plops next to you on the couch and gently parts your legs to wipe between them with the cloth and chuckles when you whine at the touch.
“My sensitive baby,” he pities.
“Your fault,” you accuse. “So sleepy.”
“Close your eyes, okay? I’ll get you all situated.”
You do as he asks, feeling beyond loved and trusted as he quietly hums to himself and gently dresses you.
“Caleb?” You ask, voice a little raspy.
“Mm?”
“Earlier, when you texted me, you made me pick a number? One through ten?”
“Oh, yeah. What about it?” He asks slyly.
“What was it for?”
Caleb laughs.
“You picked eight, right?”
“Yeah?” You say, confused.
“Oh, it’s just the number of orgasms I owe ya - ya know, to help you relax. So get some sleep, pipsqueak. I got you aaallllll day tomorrow, and I plan on taking my time with you.”
Xavier’s libido is so wildly high that he actively has to work to keep himself in check around you, because every last thing you do is attractive to him. You often catch his eyes focusing on your lips when you’re chewing the cap of a pen as you try to concentrate on paperwork.
Xavier wonders if you know, but you’re too polite to say anything. You’re so good and sweet; far too lovely to understand just how feral he is. If you do realize, you don’t say so. Something about that innocence and the way you chat happily with him as he imagines pressing you against a wall makes him want to rattle it.
As wild as his desires are and as much as he wants to act on them, he drains. Xavier keeps every last one of his feelings locked up and in check, held tightly to the chest, even if the physical manifestations of his need peek through.
He needs you to be the one to say it first.
”Xavier? You alright?”
Xavier blinks, unaware that his eyes have been glazing over as he stares at your fingers, captivated by the way they delicately hold the work-branded pen you’re using to write a grocery list.
”Yes?” He asks after clearing his throat.
”You look a little flushed, you answer with a concerned frown. “Have you been getting enough sleep?’
”Yes,” he looks away from your hands to focus on his own and clasps them in his lap. “Just thinking about dinner.”
That seems to be a suitable enough answer, because you smile.
His hunger is slowly, surely starting to eat at him. A part of Xavier makes him with ink that he is just losing his handle on things and that he needs to evaluate himself, because why does watching you pick out noodles turn him on?
You chew your bottom lip in concentration, and suddenly his fingernails are biting painful little crescents into the palms of his hands.
Everything you do is mesmerizing, and Xavier is addicted to the way that you move; the way that you breathe, and the way you speak his name so sweetly, like you’re handling it with care.
”Xavier, do you think we’ll be able to carry this in one trip?”
He’s so fucked.
It’s not like you don’t reciprocate his feelings, and Xavier knows that you love it when he kisses you because you sigh his name into his mouth. When Xavier touches you, you melt for him; pliant and willing. He knows you feel the same, because you affirm your love for him in soft, broken moans.
Even still, he’s on his best behavior as he dutifully carries in the bulk of the groceries so you can get started on dinner, an area that isn’t early his forte.
”Taste this?”
Xavier’s throat tightens at the words and the many meanings they could take, and he immediately chastises himself when he lifts his head to see you offering him a spoon. The soup you’re making is as delicious as it is comforting, and something about it warms his chest.
”Delicious,” he compliments, and despite his best efforts, his mind wanders to other things he wants a taste of.
”That’s relief,” you chirp happily. “Do you want to grab some bowls and spoons?”
Xavier sets the table, and you eat together in comfortable silence.
You’re not completely unaware, as much as Xavier hopes you to be. You see his eyes sweep from the spoon parting your lips to the column of your throat when you swallow. His grip on his own utensil is so tight that his knuckles are turning white.
After dinner, Xavier is as helpful as he always is with the dishes so that you can relax, and you suggest a movie to end the night.
Xavier sits on the opposite end of the couch to you, deliberately trying to get a grip and not freak out over the fact that you’re so close. His dread grows louder when you close the distance to scoot right next to him anyway, and his restraint begins to fracture when you rest your head on his shoulder.
“It’s okay,” you say about halfway through the movie.
”What’s okay?” Xavier wonders through gritted teeth.
You lift a hand to stroke his cheek, then cup it with your palm and turn his head in your direction until he’s looking you in the eyes.
“You don’t have to hold back.”
The last bare, thinning, and fraying thread of control snaps within him, and it’s audible in the way he groans before crushing his lips against yours.
He’s going to make up for lost time.
Xavier is insatiable with kisses, greedy to the point that he’s stealing your breath, delirious with lust as he claims your mouth. He’s messy and desperate, tongue parting your lips and sliding against your own until he’s certain you can taste him, and strings of saliva begin to drip from your mouths.
”Need it,” he gasps hoarsely as he allows you to catch your breath. “Please let me touch you - I need to feel how wet you are for me.”
Xavier is too hungry to bother removing all of your clothes and makes just enough room between your legs by pulling your pants only slightly down and panties to the side to shove two fingers inside of you.
“I need you to come for me, okay? I really need you to come for me first, because I c-can’t let myself feel you until you do, I don’t deserve it, don’t deserve it yet -“
Xavier is babbling as he scissers his fingers inside of you, stretching and fucking them into you to get you ready.
”It’s - It’s okay,” you try to assure him, but despite his need to fuck you, Xavier pulls away to sink to his knees in front of you.
His eyes are wet with need, and you’re not able to ascertain whether or not he’s desperate enough to actually cry, because he’s tugging your panties down and burying his face between your legs.
He flattens his tongue against you to collect as much of your wetness as he can before swallowing, his jaw and throat working as he does. Xavier shatters any bit of quiet coolness he exudes in his everyday life with desperate groans and ravenous slurps. He eats you like he’s committing your taste to memory, thoroughly and starving even though he’s aching to be touched, himself. With one hand, he steadies your thigh to keep your legs parted, and with the other, he loses his delicate fingers around his painfully hard cock.
Your fingers take hold of Xavier’s hair, and you tug so hard that it stings, but there’s no place he’d rather be right now. He’s slightly selfish with how he tastes you, and though this is more for him, he loves the way you whimper his name.
”C-Close,” you warn.
Xavier fucks you with his tongue until you’re coming, the tell-tale signs of your orgasm doing nothing to deter him, even when you’re clamping your legs around his head and tugging his hair so hard it feels like you might rip it out.
Then he does it again.
Xavier doesn’t stop until you’re pushing his head away, and his face is covered in your arousal and his spit. You’re trembling so much, and the room is spinning out of focus, that you would worry about fainting if you weren’t already supported by Xavier’s hands and the couch.
Xavier kisses his way up your quaking legs.
He makes his way to your hips, then your stomach. He drags his tongue up and up, delighting in your weak little gasps of his name.
He wants you to say it over and over again.
When he reaches your lips, he lets you taste yourself.
”So delicious, right?” He praises you after kissing you deeply.
”Felt so good,” you pant, breathing still shaky.
”Again?” Xavier asks hopefully.
”What about you?’
Xavier looks sheepish, and you realize why when you look down to see the sweatpants he’s only cared to lower to his thighs and the mess he’s made all over the front of them.
”But -“
”It doesn’t take much,” he admits, grimacing as he pulls the sweats up to cover himself until he gets a chance to clean up.
”Just from… eating me out?’
”Just from that pretty look on your face,” Xavier corrects you. “The rest is all a bonus.”
You allow yourself a moment to relax and enjoy the soothing ripple of bliss that Xavier’s given you, with the promise that you’ll both shower soon. Xavier helps you up after a while, though he’s faring no better than you are, and takes you to the bathroom so you can clean up.
Showering together might not be a great idea, but he makes it worth it.
After kissing you senselessly beneath the warm spray, Xavier lifts your leg so it rests at his hip and fucks you until you’re unable to hold yourself up and the water runs cold.
Summary: Trying on clothes with Xavier tests the limits to his restraint.
Pairing: Xavier X Fem reader
Word count: 600
Rating: M
Going shopping with Xavier is a taxing outing, because any time you ask him for his opinion on an outfit, he’s staring at you with hungry eyes to work out how he can get you out of it.
“Xavier, do you think this skirt is too short?” you fret, testing the length with your fingertips.
When you look up, Xavier’s lips are parted slightly, and his gaze is fixed on your thighs.
”Xavier?” You repeat.
He blinks as if snapped out of a trance.
”I’m sorry, what did you ask?” He says hoarsely.
”The skirt… is it too short?’
Heat blooms in a petal pink stain across his pale cheeks, and he swallows thickly.
”I think it’ll attract some attention,” he treads carefully, trying his hardest to mask preemptive jealousy.
“Got it,” You huff, then roll your eyes. “I’ve got one more dress to try on, and then we can head out, okay?’
Xavier nods, his gaze back on your legs.
“Take your time.”
You disappear into the changing room, thankful that the store is relatively empty,y so you have the luxury of taking your time. After slipping a knee-length, shimmery black dress over your head, you work to pull the zipper up in the back to secure it. After struggling with it for a few moments, you sigh and decide you’re going to need help.
”Xavier?” You call, hoping he can hear you.
There’s a faint sound of footsteps, and a short second later, there’s a knock at the door.
”You called for me?”
”Yes, I need some help,”
You open the door for him, seeing no issu,e as your body is mostly covered, save for the slight gap in the unzipped fabric in the back.
”I need some help with the zipper - it’s stuck.”
”You want me to help?’
”Yeah,” you frown. “Is that a problem?”
A misty look glazes Xavier’s eyes, but he shakes his head and steps into the small dressing room. He closes the door behind him.
”Thank you,” you say gratefully, then turn your back to him so he has easy access.
Xavier inhales sharply, but disguises it as a small cough. His touch is so gentle that you can barely feel his presence as he slowly works the zipper up.
”This dress is really pretty,” he murmurs, and you shiver when his hot breath tickles the back of your neck. “You’re unreal.”
Though the zipper is secured, his hands linger.
”Xavier?’
”Sorry,” he says after a beat. “It’s difficult to see you in so many pretty outfits. Forgive me, but all I’d think about is getting you out of them.”
Xavier’s fingertips ghost up the nape of your neck, then he slides his hand underneath your jaw to cup it.
”Look at yourself,”
The sight in the mirror that hangs at the back of the dressing room makes heat creep into your face. Xavier stands behind you, head resting on your left shoulder, his hand firmly grasping your jaw.
”Xavier -“
”I’ll never get used to this,” he continues. “The sight of you, being able to touch you…”
”There are people out there -“
”Two employees at the register,” Xavier confirms. “No one else in the whole store. Can you… keep a little quiet for a second?’
Words escape you as you feel his lips press against the base of your neck.
”Just for a moment, I just… couldn’t resist this,” Xavier mumbles into your skin, then slowly trails soft, wet kisses up to your ear. “I think you should get this dress.”
Summary: You are Xavier’s favorite way to unwind, and the taste and feel of you drive him so wild that he can’t rest until he puts both of you to sleep.
For as long as you’ve known Xavier, it’s been abundantly clear that he carries the weight of such an intense exhaustion, it’s as if the very atmosphere of the planet is working overtime in tandem with gravity to weigh him down. It doesn’t help that he’s out at all hours of the night and on most days, fighting battles you don’t even see. Despite this exhaustion and discomfort, Xavier is determined never to let you rest, either.
Xavier lies between your parted thighs, his own hands covering yours that are tangled in his silky hair to keep them there as he feasts on you. He encourages you to pull, twist, and yank, and you know it’s something he’s obsessed with, because that slight pain produces the most guttural, desperate moans you’ve ever heard.
”Just like that, partner,” he slurs, so intoxicated by the mere scent of you in general that having you smeared all over his face is lethal. “It’s okay if it hurts a little.”
A soft, sweet groan tumbles from his lips, which he licks afterwards as if to erase the taste of his own words in favor of you. He flattens his tongue against you to collect every bit of wetness that he can, and his jaw works as he swallows.
”Xavier, it’s too much,” you pant, brows drawing together in concentration as the beginnings of another orgasm churn in your core.
”Good,” Xavier groans. “I’m not satisfied yet, so give me something to taste.”
Xavier brings his fingers to your entrance as he flicks his tongue against your clit and slips two inside of you to work you open. You’re so slick with arousal and Xavier’s saliva that the stretch is all pleasure and no discomfort. Xavier sighs.
”It seems as if you’ve been needing this just as badly as I have.”
You’re almost discouraged that Xavier doesn’t seem to care about his own needs that he’s been neglecting in favor of yours, but the subtle roll of his hips as he grinds them into the bed gives you an indication that it’s almost as if this is for him.
”What about you?” You manage between labored breaths as you prop yourself up a bit better on your elbows, cheeks heating up at the sight of him buried between your thighs.
”Don’t be stupid,” comes his muffled reprimand. “I’m already taking everything you have to give me, and I’m not going to stop until you can’t speak.”
Your indignance fizzles and melts on your tongue as he begins lazily thrusting his fingers in and out of you, and you find yourself thinking about the fact that you’ve never realized just how long his fingers are.
The way Xavier laps at you is measured and practiced as he builds the intensity in steady, swelling waves. What started as a gentle hum begins to amplify until all you hear is a loud thrumming in your ears mixed with Xavier’s muted encouragement.
“That’s it, just a little more, okay? You can give me just a little more, can’t you? Just like that…”
Your legs begin to shake as you clamp your thighs around his head, the slight panic that comes with all of the arousal and the fear of losing it making you hold him there. Xavier likes this; he likes it when you make him stay put and take what you need, so he flattens his tongue to allow you to grind against it like a mere tool purely crafted for your pleasure.
The bliss builds until it breaks, and everything comes crashing down around you as you thrash about, so overcome with the force of your orgasm that you don’t notice Xavier reaching into your nightstand.
As you catch your breath, you detect the sound of a faint buzz.
”Xavier?” You ask, his name slurred in your haze.
”Just keep still for me,” Xavier soothes you, his voice a calming lullaby; a gentle tone reserved just for you.
You close your eyes and take a deep breath, your body still trembling from the intensity of your orgasm. The buzzing sound that barely registered to you before is getting louder, and just as you begin to sink into relaxation, you feel the soft coolness of silicon against your thigh.
”Xavier!” You choke as your eyes fly open, and you see him with a small bullet vibrator he’s only recently been made aware of the existence of.
”Open your legs a little more for me, partner,” Xavier encourages as he drags the vibrator further up your leg.
Your body obeys as your mind catches up, and a strangled cry wrenches from your lips as Xavier presses the vibrator directly against your swollen clit.
”One more,” Xavier murmurs as he caresses your thigh with his free hand. “One more and I’ll know you’re nice and relaxed for me.
”Xavier, it’s -“ you scramble for the words as they leave your brain.
”I know, oh… I know,” Xavier coos.
Xavier exudes a quiet command in all facets of his life as a diligent coworker, friend,d and lover. His gentle disposition and mild nature are clever farces meant to keep others at a distance, but work to his advantage in more ways than one as he coaxes another orgasm out of you.
Bliss burns and borders on pain as you twist and writhe, hips chasing whatever Xavie’rs willing to give you, despite the intense, overwhelming feeling that threatens to swallow you.
”So good,” Xavier praises. “Such a good listener. You’re shaking.”
Xavier switches the vibrator off and tosses it aside. He cups your face with his hands and kisses you softly. You feel self-conscious as he begins to shake with silent laughter.
”Xavier,” you complain.
”Sorry,” he says, not sounding sorry at all. “You’re just so responsive. It’s so cute. It makes me want to ruin you.”
Xavier presses a sweet kiss to your lips, then to each of your cheeks.
”So pretty,” he marvels. “You’re practically glowing.”
”That would be the sweat,” you point out blandly.
”No, it’s a glow.”
Deciding you’re too exhausted to argue semantics, you close your eyes and sigh.
”That was really nice, but I think you might have almost killed me.”
”Mm, I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. Okay, had enough time to rest?’
”… what?”
Xavier lifts himself back up to sit on his heels long enough to divest himself of his soft, cloud-like sweatshirt. You’re babbling, at a loss for words, as he gets rid of his sweatpants and boxers, too.
”What?” You repeat.
Xavier curls his fingers around his cock, which is an angry red color that’s beginning to lean purple from his prolonged and unsatisfied arousal.
”I’d like to fuck you,” Xavier says casually, like he wouldn’t be upset if you said no.
”Xavier!”
”You just sound so pretty,” he whines. “I want to hear more of those sounds… I’m greedy.”
You nudge him with your foot, and instead of being knocked off balance, Xavier shudders at the slight touch.
”Fuck,” he groans.
”… fine,” you say, telling yourself that you’re taking pity on him, but knowing that the sight of him hard and leaking is a weakness. “Only one time, though!”
Xavier grins and kicks the fabric that caught around his ankles off and to the floor.
”We’ll see.”
”You’re so greedy, it’s - ah -“
”Mhm,” Xavier cuts you off to agree and pulls your thighs over his hips to press into you. “I’m sooooo greedy, I’m the woooorst.”
He allows you a moment to catch your breath and adjust, though you’re so wet and relaxed that all you feel is the delicious stretch. Xavier takes in the sight of your blissed-out expression and pulls back until just the tip of his cock catches at your entrance.
”I’m the worst, but you love it.”
Xavier senses the bratty reply forming on your lips and thrusts fully forward, punching the breath out of your lungs and stealing your words.
”Thought so,” he manages as he sets a relentless pace, so close to coming himself that he can no longer prolong the inevitable.
Xavier has been dangling you over the cliff all night, letting you slip from his grasp just enough to evoke the adrenaline of falling, but yanking you right back to safety each time. You’re now being held by just a finger, crooked and trembling.
”Are you close?’ Xavier asks, breathless, as the threat of his looming exhaustion grows. “Are you going to be good and come for me again, or am I going to have to flip you over?”
”I -“
”Look at me,” he demands, reaching forward to lift your chin. “Look at me and tell me you’re close.”
”Yes,” you whimper. “I can’t hold it anymore,”
”Good. Don’t.”
Xavier releases your face and pulls back tos lip, his hands beneath your thighs, and focuses on ruining you. He pushes your legs back until your knees are bent, and he can fuck you deeper. He swears under his breath as you clench around him.
”Fuck, just like that,” he groans as he feels you tighten. “So beautiful.”
Like before, your legs begin to quake, and you feel yourself free-falling as euphoria takes your body prisoner. Just as you’re coming to your senses, Xavier pulls out with a strangled cry. You’re still so dazed and out of it that Xavier’s auctions don’t register to you until he’s got your thighs over his shoulder again and he’s slipping his tongue inside of you.
Your eyes begin to sting with the salt of unshed tears as a high-pitched whimper bubbles from your throat.
Xavier devours you, desperate to get as much out of you as he can. He takes his cock into his hand and strokes it in time with his tongue. He jerks into his fist and only lets go when your fingers take root in his hair and the pain in his scalp ebbs and flows with his pulsing need.
”Shit,” Xavier hisses and spills into his hand, open-mouthed and panting.
He slumps forward, shoulders curled, and head bowed as he trembles. He has the wherewithal to shakily grab his sweatshirt and mop himself up with it, deciding that he’ll deal with the consequences later.
The bed dips as he lies next to you, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. Even with the energy having been sapped from your limbs, you throw an arm over him to bring him close to you.
”Good?’ Xavier’s voice is shot, strained, and hoarse, like he’s been shouting all day.
You don’t have it in you to give him a verbal response, and you highly suspect that if you were able to speak, he’d take it as a challenge.
He accepts that silence with a smug grin.
”Good.”
You don’t catch yourself falling asleep until you wake up to a nasty sunbeam that’s forcing your eyes open. You blink away sleep, and as soon as the room comes into your vision fully, you look to the side to see Xavier staring, like he’s been waiting for you.
”What are you -“
Xavier silences your questions with a hungry, aggressive kiss. He presses his tongue against the seam of your lips to part them and groans when he can fully taste you, morning breath be damned.
“Please,” he murmurs into your mouth. “Can we start the day right?”
Summary: Rafayel has been hard at work on his latest painting with very little free time, and he's been missing you fiercely.
Pairing: Rafayel X Fem reader
Word count: 1.2 K
Tags/Warnings: submissive Rafayel, hand jobs, blow jobs, come swallowing
Rafayel can’t help but fall to pieces when you touch him, and he’s been working so hard to meet a deadline that he hasn’t been able to get his fix.
”Coming by your studio. Do you want coffee?”
He sees your text as an in.
”Yes,” he eagerly responds with shaking fingers. “Thanks, cutie.”
It’s not more than half an hour later that you’re letting yourself into his art gallery and making your way up the steps that lead to his studio.
”I’m here,” you call from the top of the stairs, holding a tray of two drinks that the barista kindly set up for you so you would have a free hand.
”Back here, cutie,” Rafayel answers, his voice slightly hoarser than normal.
Perhaps a lack of sleep?
You find Rafayel lying on the comfortable couch he calls his bed more often than not, and tilt your head to the side to observe him.
”Tired?”
”Something like that.”
”I brought you a coffee to help wake you up,” you try to bribe him, then hold the tray next to his face so the smell might entice him.
”Can you put it on the table?” Rafayel pouts. “It’s always too hot to drink at first?’
”It’s iced -“
”Table, please?”
”Okay,” you concede, doing as he asks. “You know, it isn’t good for your sleep schedule to nap at a time like this.”
”Not napping,” Rafayel corrects you, then shudders. “I’m just taking some ‘me’ time.”
”You’re taking some… ‘me’ time?”
”Yessss,” Rafayel sighs. “Your voice is so…”
”My voice?” You ask incredulously, wondering whether or not he’s trying to disparage you for nagging him or if he genuinely likes the way it sounds right now.
”Mhm, so pretty… keep talking…”
”Rafayel, what? You’re being -“ you cut yourself off when your gaze drifts, and you notice the way his slacks are straining at the front.
Your face feels hot, and the room feels stuffy despite the openness and the abundant natural light and open windows. Rafayel opens his eyes slightly to make sure you’re looking at him, then slides his hand down to his chest… then to his waist.
”It hurts,” he croaks. “Help me out?”
”H-help you how?’ You manage after swallowing thickly.
”Whichever way you want, cutie. I just… really, really need to feel you. Please…. Please. I’ve worked sooooo hard today,” Rafayel complains, his hand drifting to the front of his pants. “Haven’t gotten to be with you… haven’t gotten to touch you…”
”B-but - what about Thomas?”
”He’s out.”
”What about work?”
”Please, please, cutie, I’m begging you,” Rafayel practically whines. “Please - anything. Touch me, taste me, better yet - sit on my face so we can taste each other -“
Rafayel is rambling, and the more he speaks, the harder he gets.
”Rafayel, breathe, okay? You’re really flushed.”
”Yeah? I am? Maybe I have a fever - Maybe you should check,” he says heatedly, tripping over his words to get them out. “Maybe that’s why I feel so funny.”
You frown, walk closer to him, and rest the back of your hand on his forehead.
Rafayel takes that moment to strike. He grasps your hand in his and threads his fingers through yours, tugging you to him so you stumble and fall atop his waist. He whimpers at the feeling of you pressing against him, and his cock digs into your stomach insistently.
“You feel so good, so, soooooo good,” he chokes out, hips lifting to grind against your body from beneath you. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry - I’m so, so sorry, I need it. I need it so badly - I need you. I’ll do anything.”
”Raf, st-stay still, you’re - how are you this hard?”
”Been hours… been looking at your photo.”
You position yourself so you’re straddling his waist to get a better hold of things, and you look into his eyes.
They practically burn you.
”Cutie, please - I can’t, I can’t handle it anymore. If you just… move your hips for me… I could come just like this, and you wouldn’t even need to do anything -“
“Sh,” you cup his face with your hands and notice that he feels warm.
“Please,” he begs.
”I’m going to touch you, okay? Relax for me?”
“Mhm, I’m already much more relaxed just being able to feel you.”
You lean forward to give him a small, chaste kiss. He chases your lips.
”You promise that Thomas isn’t going to walk in on us?” You check with him as you tug his pants down his legs.
The front of his light-blue boxers is stained with a large amount of precum.
”He’s out, I promise - please, it hurts so badly.”
You touch him through the wet fabric, and he hisses, hips lifting to meet your fingers. Deciding to take mercy on him, you pull his boxers down along with his slacks, and his cock bobs out, flushed a pretty pink you’ll never admit you love and leaking profusely.
What sounds like a desperate plea in his mother tongue escapes his lips, and even though you don’t understand Lemurian, you know it’s likely a word that you can’t use in mixed company.
”Please, please baby, I’m so close already - please touch me.”
You touch him gently, handling him with care, and when your fingers close around his aching cock, he whimpers again - high-pitched and desperate.
He’s so needy that you’re not even doing anything special, simply holding him, and he’s already falling apart.
Rafayel does the work for you, using your hand to fuck into, and he’s beginning to leak so much that there’s minimal friction.
”So good, so pretty - I need this so badly,” he babbles, hips driven by his need to come. “You’re so perfect for me, the best and the sweetest, fuck, cutie, I’m so close.”
He’s twitching in your hand, and without thinking about anything but the potential mess, you move down his body to take him into your mouth. The moment the head of his cock touches the warm, wet padding of your tongue, Rafayel is a goner. Hot, viscous liquid splashes in your mouth, which you work to swallow.
Rafayel babbles in Lemurian, and you’re unable to catch anything he’s saying as you’re too focused on swallowing what he’s giving you. It’s more than you’ve ever taken, maybe because he’s been so worked up, but you swear that Rafayel always ends up coming more than you’re expecting him to.
”Thank you,” he manages, body quivering and voice wrecked. “Thank you so much for that.”
”You don’t need to thank me, silly, but maybe warn me a little if I’m walking into a trap,” you joke, patting his chest playfully before pulling his boxers and pants back into place.
”I’ve got a few details on the painting left,” Rafayel works to say through the haze of his post-orgasmic bliss, and sits up to meet your gaze. “The second I finish, I’m coming to your apartment to return the favor.”
“It’s not a -“
”I know you don’t do these kinds of things with expectations, but I need to make you feel as good as you just made me feel.”
”Okay,” you find yourself smiling. “Just make sure you drink your coffee, or else I will make you pay me back for it.”
”Oooh, with sexual favors?” Rafayel perks up, excited by the prospect.
”Cash! I’m not rich like you are, you know, and I’ll be expecting it in full.”
18 + MDNI Caleb is careful about not overstepping with you but once he knows you want him as badly as he wants you, you are getting it any time, any place.
Dragged into supply closets so he can finger you until you’re sobbing - locked in his office when you bring him lunch on your day off, bent over his desk and taking his cock so prettily.
“Gotta be quiet,” Caleb admonishes you as he’s buried inside of you to the hilt. “I know you feel good, oh, baby, I knooooooow.”
He covers your mouth with the hand he isn’t using to steady you.
“We’ve got six minutes left until your break is over…. Be good for me, yeah?”
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