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I have said it before on many occasions but it's worth reminding people that Sylus is a WHORE. And I love it.
He gives major fuck you in the bathroom on the first date before dessert arrives energy.
Think about it.
In his vampire myth, this man was ten seconds in from meeting MC and had every single intention to kill her and he STILL made out with her. Zero memory who she is, ready to impale her to death after bleeding her dry and has the audacity to be like “hold on, give me a kiss real quick,” LMAO!
In his dragon myth when MC was sneaking him, and she started acting like she was trying to fuck cause she feels bored did you see the look on his face? He was down!
I'm convinced if it wasn't for her hating his guts on sight in main story, because despite that she does admit he is hot as fuck so I KNOW he would have taken her amnesia having ass to base and slutted her out regardless. All she had to do was say when.
Nobody can tell me otherwise.
Sylus is easy. And I love that about him.
Fake sleeping so he can get handcuffed to his bed wearing nothing but a silk robe.
Just stamp the words “Fuck me whenever” on your forehead Onychinus leader cause we all see you're about that life.
it's crazy how plausible all the shit the corporations do in the murderbot diaries is. that one scene when murderbot was talking to those humans who had signed a 20 year corporate work contract and it asked them if the contract specified 20 years by the standard local calendar or by a proprietary calendar created by the company was downright unsettling 😬 if the ceos of modern earth companies read these books they would probably start crying because the government won't let them do most of this in real life.
hey fun fact this has absolutely happened before. part of the push to standardize time/timezones was because factory employers had clocks set to the pace of their machinery. meaning of the workers were not doing enough, time would run slower until they had reached their goal. there is historical precedent.
Plug!Sylus as a sexy older man that pulls up late at night for a drop off and finds out you don't know how to inhale correctly when he gives you free prerolls. You get annoyed when it seemed like he was just nitpicking your technique. But before you knew it, he was shotgunnning smoke directly into your mouth, forcing you to learn how to inhale correctly.
"To think you've been wasting product this whole time..."
The amount he administered made your vision blur. You could only focus on the feeling of his lips against yours as he exhaled into your mouth. He kept direct eye contact as he did this, but you were too caught off guard to think about averting your gaze. Eventually, he pulled away.
"How cute," he said, a satisfied smile plastered across his face.
You took a deep breath, but the air was too thick with residual smoke that your head just got more muddled. Your body began to relax at a much faster pace than it did when you smoked alone. All of your bones and muscles felt like they were melding together as you sunk into the leather upholstery. "What the fuck..." you whispered, not really sure how else to react to the feeling.
"You're feeling it?"
You turned to see Sylus sitting in the drivers seat, staring you down with steady eyes. You nodded, this time your eyes flicking down towards the gearshift to avoid him. "Mm."
Plug!Sylus as a sexy older man that pulls up late at night for a drop off and finds out you don't know how to inhale correctly when he gives you free prerolls. You get annoyed when it seemed like he was just nitpicking your technique. But before you knew it, he was shotgunnning smoke directly into your mouth, forcing you to learn how to inhale correctly.
"To think you've been wasting product this whole time..."
The amount he administered made your vision blur. You could only focus on the feeling of his lips against yours as he exhaled into your mouth. He kept direct eye contact as he did this, but you were too caught off guard to think about averting your gaze. Eventually, he pulled away.
"How cute," he said, a satisfied smile plastered across his face.
You took a deep breath, but the air was too thick with residual smoke that your head just got more muddled. Your body began to relax at a much faster pace than it did when you smoked alone. All of your bones and muscles felt like they were melding together as you sunk into the leather upholstery. "What the fuck..." you whispered, not really sure how else to react to the feeling.
"You're feeling it?"
You turned to see Sylus sitting in the drivers seat, staring you down with steady eyes. You nodded, this time your eyes flicking down towards the gearshift to avoid him. "Mm."
Warnings: CNC (consensual non-consent), CBT, cock rings, polylads if you squint really hard (you'll figure it out at the end)
--
The room is loud, Sylus simply sitting back in his chair at the head of the table as he watches the chaos unfold with apathy. Disgusting men with disgusting ideals, all arguing over which of them is the worst. A pointless conversation. They ought to know by now.
Amidst the nattering, Sylus gives Luke a nod that goes unnoticed, and the door opens. What they see causes all of them to stop in their tracks.
A man, naked, wrists bound, and eyes covered with a blindfold. His hands cup his manhood in an attempt to provide himself with some form of dignity. That attempt is somewhat undercut by the thick leather collar around his throat, and the way his shoulders hunch closed.
The simple explanation for this is that he's found himself being forced to deal with a group of individuals who, had they held less power and influence, he would have had them all killed. As it is, the particular services they provide to the N109 zone are too valuable to simply erase overnight. No, it's easier to keep them under his thumb and allow them to operate within the confines of his jurisdiction.
The problem? These men know they are needed, and thus fairly impervious to the wrath of Onichynus. It makes them cocky, and demanding of him.
What Sylus needs to do with them is instill these cruel, vile men with fear. There is no other way to keep them docile, and it's only a matter of time before they begin to try and uproot his leadership. Really, by scaring them shitless, he's doing them both a favor, when the alternative for them is death, and for him is an inconvenience.
Their expressions range from curiosity, to disgust, to concern, to fear as they look between the always calm Sylus Qin and the captive in the doorway.
“Please, continue. I don't mean to interrupt your… riveting discussion.” Sylus says, almost like he's bored, and snaps his fingers.
The man in the doorway moves upon hearing the sound, dropping to his knees and crawling into the room, feeling around for the leg of the long conference table.
“Sylus,” one calls, the most foolish of the lot, “what is the meaning of this?” He watches with thinly veiled disgust as the man below him feels with blind fingers and finds the toe of his shoe. On instinct, seemingly, he pulls his foot away.
“Do you know who this is?” Sylus raises a brow, and rests a finger against his temple. Taps a few times.
The men around the table look at one another briefly, but no one seems to have an answer.
Beneath them, the nude captive begins to kiss the tips of their shoes, in some perverse display of submission.
He wouldn't expect them to recognize him either, when his most prominent feature is covered. Those pretty hazel eyes. None of them has any reason to be able to recognize that pale skin or feather-soft dark hair.
Sylus allows the silence to hold for another long moment, the only sound in the room the clumsy shuffling under the table, and lips meeting polished leather. It gradually grows closer to Sylus’ chair as he eyes them with expectation, and then sits back with a disappointed sigh.
“This is Doctor Zayne Li. World renowned cardiac surgeon and the genius behind evol technology advancements in medicine. Arguably the reason half of you are still alive today. Someone also highly sought after by our friends at Xander Sciences, an affiliate of EVER.”
The looks of horror he receives makes it all worth it.
Almost as if on cue, that's the moment Zayne finally makes his way to his rightful place at Sylus' feet, giving him the same soft kisses to the tip of his shoe, but instead of moving on, he simply stays there, head pressed to the ground right in front of him.
The doctor knows better than to disobey. He knows exactly what's expected of him in this meeting.
“This, gentlemen,” Sylus' voice drops deeper, more threatening as he grabs the soft hair on Zayne's head and uses the leverage to yank him up. To show them his face, covered by the fabric tied around his eyes, “is what happens when I decide I want something.”
Quiet outrage fills the room until one brave soul has the courage to speak up.
“Then what do you want from us?!”
Sylus doesn't reward him with an answer, or even a look. He keeps his eyes on his pretty toy, guiding Zayne to rest on his thigh. He notices that despite the cock ring designed to control Zayne's pleasure, he is growing plump between those milky white legs. Pervert. Who would have thought?
The better image is the way his perfect cupids bow trembles when Sylus drags a thumb across his lips.
“At the moment?” Sylus asks, entirely disinterested, “To be quiet.” He snaps, and so close to Zayne's ear it makes the man flinch. But he knows what is expected of him, and settles himself more comfortably between Sylus' legs, bound hands resting over the belt of his slacks. Waiting for further command.
Such a good boy he's turned out to be, despite his obvious fear. So docile. All of their training was very much worth it.
“And to listen to me.” Two taps to his thigh, and Zayne understands exactly what's being asked of him.
As those precise fingers work at his belt, and to tug his cock free, Sylus once more rests his head on a hand and eyes the room.
Their clear discomfort is delicious. It's exactly what they deserve, for all that they've done to society. Let them squirm.
Once Doctor Li has his cock free, he sucks it into his mouth, and it feels divine to rest on that warm, wet tongue. He swallows around it, and Sylus has to hold back an indulgent sigh. Doctor Li does nothing else, for now, holding it in his throat and sitting perfectly still, though the scratchy carpet can't be comfortable on his knees. Like a very good boy, he doesn't even shift in discomfort.
“So as it turns out, this is what it takes to get you all to shut up.” Sylus says with disdain, his free hand idly coming to rest on the back of Doctor Li’s head. For now, he just leaves it there. A silent command to stay put.
“I need you all to understand one thing. The only reason you aren't in the same position as Doctor Li here is because I have allowed it. You do not dictate what passes through my borders, and if you think you're capable of avoiding my eyes, you are mistaken.”
Sylus tilts his head and narrows his eyes. The desires of this man in particular disgust him. Women who are too young, those weak enough to be unable to fight back. He would have half a mind to put him in the same position as Doctor Li, were he not so repulsive. Better to hide this trash away from society. Lock him up somewhere dark and dank.
The same man as before, angry, with dark hair falling into bright eyes speaks up, “Why do you care if we sell drugs in the city? It's a good market, and the people there are going to find them if they want to anyway. You're just trying to suffocate good business, Sylus. What, are we a threat to your monopoly on the zone?”
“A threat?” Sylus gives him an empty laugh, “Don't flatter yourself. You are an annoyance, and your sloppy methods have the police hot on your trail. The only reason you haven't been caught yet is due to my own intervention. I think I deserve a thank you, don't you?”
Crimson eyes flick down and he yanks Doctor Li’s mouth off of his now half hard cock. “Isn't that what good boys say, Doctor?” He asks, as the man sucks in a breath and clenches his teeth.
His hands ball into fists on his lap, once more protectively cupping his own arousal, as if frightened it might be in danger. Smart man.
“Thank you, Sylus.” He says through gritted teeth. Insolent. The good doctor was told of the consequences of disobedience in this meeting. Sylus easily gets the toe of his shoe to press down on Doctor Li’s perky balls, enough to be painful.
He gets a pretty gasp of pain for it.
Not more than a moment later, that mouth is pulled right back onto his cock, but this time, Sylus begins to lead him up and down on it. Slow movements, letting him almost all the way off before pushing deep into his throat and holding there as he pleases. The choking that comes from his lap only makes it better.
“What do you want us to do then?” Another voice asks, and Sylus is pleased to see that the man has a difficult time removing his gaze from the sight of Doctor Li being used like a fleshlight right in front of him. “And what the hell do you think you're going to do with a kidnapped doctor? The authorities will come looking for him too, Sylus.”
That gets a smirk from Sylus, the first one of the evening, and he presses down hard on Doctor Li’s head. His gagging quickly fills the space, but with his hands bound, there isn't much leverage for him to try and get away. Save, that is, if he attempted to bite down on Sylus' cock. But he's not so foolish as to attempt a stunt such as that.
“You think I kidnapped him?” Sylus asks, while he relishes in the sensation of a hot throat constricting around his length. “Whatever gave you that impression? The good doctor is exactly where he wants to be, aren't you?” With his mouth so full, there isn't any way Doctor Li is capable of answering him, so all he gets in response is a rather pathetic whine.
That could also have something to do with the fact that Sylus’ shoe is still pressed between his legs, though it doesn't exactly seem to be pain the doctor is fearing, as his own cock sits heavy and hard between his legs, dressed up prettily in a thick metal cock ring wrapped around his shaft and balls. Poor thing won't be able to get any relief while it's still holding his pleasure hostage.
Those gathered around are all shifting in their seats, leather creaking beneath pressed slacks, and fingers tapping on the table.
“No one is going to come for the doctor. And you lot,” Sylus' eyes spare a moment for each of them, filled with disdain, “are going to take all of your business through me. Nothing enters or leaves without my signature. I have been lenient. I will not be any longer. The next smuggler crossing the border will be dealt with, and I will not be kind.”
He's getting close. There is something about the absolute power trip this is, and he thinks he ought to thank the doctor for coming up with the idea. It's a heady pleasure, with such a brilliant, powerful man on his knees, entirely debased for him, and with his lessers seeing the things Doctor Li is willing to do for him.
The things he is allowing to be done to him. All for Sylus' gratification.
“Hold still.” He groans, down to the head of black hair between his knees, and with a grunt, starts to guide the doctor's head faster on his cock. To his credit, this time he is entirely obedient.
It doesn't take long for Sylus to come down his throat with nothing more than a pleased sigh. The much louder sound is that of Doctor Li coughing and retching once he's let go, choking on the cum shot down his throat.
That's a pretty sight too. Lips shiny with spit and spend, hunched over, and yet not moving away. He even uses Sylus' knee to lean on as he catches his breath.
With the way Zayne has twisted away, though, and his bound hands preoccupied with covering his mouth through his fit, the rest of the men in the room can quite easily see that not only is Doctor Li hard, but he is leaking. A bead of precum oozing from the head of his reddening cock. They can see the thick ring that keeps him hard and aching.
How long has it been, now? He probably ought to let the poor thing out soon, but a Zayne who is so painfully aroused is much easier to keep under control. It clouds his thinking.
Sylus starts to fiddle with his cock, poking around at it with his shoe as if for nothing more than his own amusement. Which it is, to be clear. Once or twice he steps down on it, crushing it beneath his shoe just to hear that cute sound he makes when it hurts just a bit too much.
“Don't forget what I'm capable of when I put my mind to it. Isn't that right, doctor?” Sylus asks, and yanks his head up and turns him just as he steps down harder than before onto Zayne's cock, giving the room a good look at his pretty expression when he cries out.
If only they could see his face without the blindfold. Sylus knows from experience how much better he looks when you can see the pathetic expression in his eyes.
“You can speak, pet. Tell them.” He pulls harder on Zayne's hair. His reward is another delicious whimper.
“Yes, whatever you want.” He gasps.
“And if I decide something is mine… there's not a thing they can do to stop me, is there?”
“No sir.”
“Good boy. Now be quiet and maybe I'll let you come once our guests leave.”
He lets Zayne go, and relieves the pressure on his delicate bits, though his cock by now is rather red and leaking, painfully trapped at this point. It's cute, even cuter because at this angle, looking down on him, it appears rather small. It isn't, but Sylus can pretend if he likes.
Zayne cries out again, softer this time, when Sylus presses down on it just for fun, and all around the room there are flinches in sympathy. It's not hard to read the thoughts of those around him, Sylus already knows they're all wondering the same thing.
Just what did he do to get a man like Zayne Li so thoroughly under his boot? Quite literally, in this case. Because if Sylus is telling the truth, and this man truly hasn't been kidnapped, how could he have possibly coerced him to do such a thing as this? What information must Sylus have on him?
He knows that's what they're all wondering, and truthfully, he's counting on it.
“Now, you are boring me, and unless you'd like to join the good doctor here, I suggest you get out and reconsider how far you're willing to go for pride.” Really, Sylus barely gives them a glance before making it obvious that he has no more patience for their presence, and the message is taken almost immediately.
Zayne sits perfectly still, possibly not even breathing as he hears the sound of chairs moving back, and several footsteps making their way to the door.
Sylus finds it endlessly amusing that although he's the one sitting in this conference room with his cock out, he's the one entirely in control. He waits until he gets a nod from Kieran, indicating that they're all well on their way out of the building before he does anything else. Patiently, his perfect Zayne waits at his feet, quiet as a mouse.
Only once they're entirely alone does he give his pet a reprieve.
First, he reaches down and behind Zayne's head to undo the blindfold. As it slips to the floor, those pretty hazel eyes blink to readjust to the light, and find their way to Sylus.
He still looks soft around the edges. Vulnerable, and not quite in the right state of mind. As Sylus pulls him up and into his lap, Zayne is docile and obedient. Shivering a bit, from the cold of the room. His eyes sharpen as he watches Sylus untie the rope around his wrists and take them in hand, rubbing them gently.
“You did wonderfully, sweetheart. How do you feel?” Sylus asks, cupping his face in both hands and running a hand through his soft hair. Zayne sighs and leans into Sylus' shoulder.
“Take it off, please.” He asks, quiet, and Sylus knows that shiver isn't from the chill of the room.
“Ah, ah, ah, answer me first. Then you can have whatever you like.”
He can feel the way Zayne's lips turn into a pout as he shifts in Sylus' lap, uncomfortable.
“I feel fine. We can talk about it later.”
“Hmm… needy kitten.” Sylus hums, and flips the latch on the cock ring that's been suffocating him for the better part of an hour, and Zayne moans at the feeling of blood finally being able to rush down to his cock.
Normally, he'd take great pleasure in forcing Zayne to ask for what he wants, make him beg to come, but he's been so well behaved tonight that Sylus decides to spare him from further embarrassment. Instead, he wraps a careful hand around that pretty cock and starts to pump it with quick strokes around the head.
Poor Zayne is so sensitive by now that the stimulation has him panting and whimpering into Sylus' throat in no time.
And yet, he can tell that his good doctor is holding back.
“You don't have to wait for permission this time, kitten. Go on.” Sylus murmurs into his hair, and presses a kiss to the top of his head as Zayne twists and cries sharply once.
His body tenses and then the shivering starts all over again as he spills into Sylus' hand and lap, come dripping down onto his own soft cock. Zayne is always so beautiful when he comes, and the noises he makes are exquisite. It almost makes him want to never do anything like this again. Just for the sole reason that no one should get to see him like this.
Sylus holds him through his orgasm, until Zayne catches his breath, and holds him tight with both arms.
There's a silence for a long while as Sylus allows him the time he needs to come back to himself.
“You're not scared?”
Zayne's own arms slowly reach around him as well, “Of what?”
“You could be a target now.”
A tired chuckle sounds below his chin. “I thought I was under your protection.” Zayne says.
That makes something red hot and fierce burn in Sylus' chest, and he almost purrs when he answers, “That's right. You are.” They bask in their joined warmth for a moment, before Sylus speaks again, “You know what else you are?”
“Hmm?” Zayne sounds tired. While it may be morning for Sylus, it is high time he makes sure his doctor gets to bed.
“A pervert.” Sylus can't hide the teasing lilt in his voice, and Zayne huffs another small laugh.
“You're the one who made me this way.”
“I only coaxed it out of you, kitten.”
“Perhaps.” Zayne hums, unwilling to admit what they both know is the truth.
“Maybe next time we'll try something a little more intense, hmm? You should've seen the look on Caleb's face. He had all sorts of ideas that whole time.”
Zayne snorts, “I'm sure he does. He's always had a vivid imagination.”
“Come on, kitten, I'm sure everyone is waiting to see how you're doing.” Sylus tries to pick him up, but Zayne doesn't let him, using his weight to keep Sylus sitting right where he is.
“Later… let's just stay like this for a little longer.”
And how can Sylus resist, when Zayne is cuddling up to him so adorably?
Imagine a poly!lads situation after you've had a bad day.
A/N: I had a rough day and yearned for a polyLads situation where I could be comforted by my five fictional boyfriends, so I wrote it. No smut here just fluff bc I truly think a snuggle puddle would fix me
Raf will make silly little jokes, comments, offer distractions if you need it. But if you need to talk? He'll run a bath for you and hold you in the water, skin-to-skin, breathing steady as you process through your emotions, asking questions to help you get a better grasp on exactly what it is you feel. And if you cry? He'll hold you through it, and praise you for letting your emotions out.
While Rafayel is bathing with you or distracting you, Caleb is cooking. He's making your comfort meal. The one that is as safe and familiar as he is to you, the warm-hug type of meal that soothes so much more than just the hunger. Zayne is helping with that, and he's making sure that you have a full glass of water as well as perhaps a calm down/sensory kit of some kind ready for you when you come out of the bath.
Sylus is looking at anything he can take anything off your plate. When he realizes that most of his solutions wouldn't exactly work here, he settles on making sure the house is secure before going to help Xavier.
Xavier isn't allowed within thirty steps of the kitchen, so he's in the living room making the coziest blanket nest known to man. Sylus sees this and his dragon side kicks in, adding things from all of their rooms into the pile so everyone's scents are all mingled. Your favorite plushies. The pillows you refuse to allow him to replace. The fluffiest blankets.
Xavier sets them up all around the couch-centered nest, and the four downstairs pull their heads together to decide on what to put on. Caleb suggests your favorite comfort movie, that one you've seen a thousand times. Sylus' sets that up, while Xavier runs to his room and pulls out his comfiest hoodie, and he brings it to you as Rafayel is drying you off from the bath.
Xavier helps you slip it on, and the smell of him --fresh cotton, spring air, and something a little bit herbal washes over you, joining the mild-scented soap you bathed with. You protest a little when Xavier lifts you into his arms, but he tells you that he likes holding you. So, you agree and he carries you downstairs, into your waiting nest of comfort. Food is set out on a tray, the lights are dim, and you almost cry again.
Xavier passes you to Sylus. Usually the two of them bicker endlessly, but tonight, the hand off is made with quiet trust and gentle affection. Sylus' warmth wraps around you, his big, strong arms caging you in, the heat of him beyond soothing to the tension still lingering in your muscles. You lay with your head on his chest, listening to the steady drumbeat of his heart in your ear.
Rafayel tucks in behind you, saying soft words in his native tongue that feel soothing down to your essence. Zayne settles in on Sylus' other side, placing his hand on your knee in a show of comfort. Through that simple tough you knew that he was there for whatever you need, however long you need him for. Like always. Xavier flops down on the floor, resting his head against your leg, his soft, fluffy hair in perfect petting distance. His thumb gently traces your calf, the motion soothing and light, just enough to tell you he was there, touching you. Caring for you in every way he could. Caleb sits beside Xavier after he passes you your tray of food. He reminds you that you don't have to eat everything, but you do have to eat something.
The movie plays and you eat. You move into a laying position, resting on Zayne's thigh as his hand strokes through your hair while your feet rest in Caleb's lap. Xavier is curled around your back, nuzzling his face into your neck. He's already asleep, but the warmth and weight of him is familiar and comfortable. Sylus and Rafayel cuddled on the other end of the couch, both still within sight. Surrounded by the company of your lovers, protected by each of them, the hard day seemed a little less hard. The stress melts away just a bit more.
When the movie ends, a wave of calm finally comes over you. Everyone is safe, together, and yours. Your rough day has a small bright spot in the shape of five people who love you so loudly your pain melts away.
For the fic prompts, 2 ("Hey, hey, calm down, they can't hurt you anymore")?
Any fandom, have a ball!
Hihi! I'm so sorry this took this long, but I hope you enjoy!
Gravitational Breakdown
Words: 2.1K
Main Pairings: AppleSnow, PolyLADS
Caleb suffers from nightmares and hurts himself and others. Zayne tries his best to pull Caleb from his downward spiral.
Ao3 Link
“Hey, come on! Wake up!”
Caleb banged on the glass, eyes wide with horror as she didn’t get up. Scientists ran around in a panic, yelling about how the energy of the Aether Core was unstable. Terror gripped him, and he yelled louder. His evol cracked the glass before he received a hard electrical shock.
Finally, she woke up, gasping for air. Caleb pretended not to hear the scientists say she’d been dead. This wasn’t the first time she’d danced with death, and it wouldn’t be the last. Over and over he saw her die and her heart restart. It made him sick, and each time he vowed to get them out of there. Get her to someplace safe where they could grow up together without the fear of more needles, pain, and experiments. The scene in front of him melted away, replaced by one that was no less terrifying.
“What did you do!?”
Caleb lunged at Zayne, eyes blazing. Zayne didn’t even try to stop him. In the background he could see her being taken away in an ambulance. The air was still freezing, the ground decorated with lethally sharp spikes of glimmering ice. Caleb knew it wasn’t Zayne’s fault, but he couldn’t lose her. Not again. Never again.
“Since you’re grown up now, I won’t cover for you.”
Smoke burned his lungs as he tried to gasp in air. His body hurt like hell, and he couldn’t feel his right arm. His head spun and his ears started to ring. Caleb struggled to his feet, vision blurring as he thought he saw people dressed in black approach the rubble he was trapped under. Before he could say anything, it all went dark.
Caleb screamed in agony, fighting against the evol cancelling restraints. Scientists with tools fiddled with his right arm, making him metal braces and prosthetics. It hurt so much. Caleb screamed again, clawing at nothing. He tried to reach out for his evol but nothing happened.
The chip was worse. They were cruel enough to keep him awake as they implanted it. A test of pain tolerance, they said. Caleb knew the truth. They just liked to hear people scream. EVER, the damned professor, the Fleet, Caleb didn’t know who to blame anymore. His throat was raw from screaming.
“Stop it!” Caleb jolted up, breathing fast and hard. He clawed at his hair, pulling and tugging. His heart pounded and cold sweat dripped down his back. It was dark, and he couldn’t recognize the sight of his room. His body wracked with shudders and quiet sobs. Theroom was too dark and too quiet, reminding him of dark isolation chambers.
He reached under his pillow with his mostly numb right arm, relaxing slightly when his fingers curled around something hard—the handle of one of his guns. The other was hidden away in case of emergencies. Even though he could tell there was something in his fist, the lack of sensation in the heavily modified limb meant the familiar cold creeping from the metal of the gun was missing, so he switched it to his left hand. Caleb needed to feel something. He shivered and shuddered, his hands shaking.
His chest hurt. He couldn’t breathe properly. There was too little and too much noise all at once. The walls were closing in on him, and if he shut his eyes he’d be plunged into a deeper darkness. The chip sent pain through him as his emotions kept rising.
Pain, pain, pain, pain…
Pain is all Caleb had ever been in. He grit his teeth. When would the pain end? He wanted it so stop! Why wouldn’t it stop!? He felt like he was drowning and he couldn’t swim. The gun fell to the floor as he ripped his night shirt off, clawing at his chest and where the metal merged with skin on his shoulder. More pain.
At least it was him and not her. That thought alone was all that grounded him as the agony running through his body threatened to drag him back into that kaleidoscope of all the worst moments of his life. Another broken sob escaped him. He cursed EVER for taking him as a child. He cursed them for blowing him up and taking him back and turning him into this weapon. He hated it. He hated it. He hated it!
The burden of it all—the pain, the horrors, the secrets—threatened to break him but there was nothing he could do but bear it. He couldn’t bother Pips,he made a promise not to. He was supposed to be the one to carry everything, to protect her from what she couldn’t fight against. Besides, Pips had just gotten home with Xavier from a long mission, and Caleb refused to wake her up. If she saw him like this, she’d panic and ask questions he didn’t want to answer. Caleb had always been the strong one, the one to shoulder the pain and burdens of the world for her. He’d never allow her to see him breaking down. It just couldn’t happen.
Pain jolted through him, and his fingertips came back red. He didn’t have to look over his shoulder to see the blood from scratching and pulling at the metal. He grimaced and angrily scratched harder. Pain was nothing anymore. It was so frequent he’d gotten good at ignoring it. More blood coated his fingers.
Screams echoed in his mind, followed by flashes of electricity and those cruel, cruel bastards. The EVER logo ever present in the background. Caleb hated them. He wanted to crush them under the weight of his gravity, throw them into the deepest, darkest black hole he could muster. Or maybe he’d simply blow every EVER lab and building he could find.
“y…ey…h’y…HEY!” A hand smacked him, his head jerking to the side. Purple eyes widened and locked onto blue-pink ones, reflecting his own sweat-drenched face back at him. Rafayel frowned, the arch of his eyebrows and the twist of his lip spoke of anger, likely at being woken up in the middle of the night, but there was a faint trace of concern in his eyes too. “Snap out of whatever crisis you’re going through. Some of us need to sleep.”
“What are you—” Rafayel was cut off by Caleb lunging at him, hands wrapping around his throat, cutting off air supply. The Lemurian sea god coughed, eyes glowing a deep blue as scales formed on his face. Before he could summon a sea spirit or a rush of water, the room got cold, too cold, and Caleb was pulled off of him.
“What the hell was that?” Rafayel spat, gasping for air and coughing. He rubbed his throat, already mourning the makeup he’d have to use to cover up finger shaped bruises. Hiscomplaints were cut off when he saw the state Caleb was in, eyes wild and panicked, body quivering and shaking, blood on his hands and shoulder.
“Hey, hey,” Zayne soothed, holding Caleb tightly. “Calm down, they can’t hurt you anymore. You’re not there anymore.” He gently cupped Caleb’s face in his hands, the cold grounding Caleb. “You’re home. With me. With us. Breathe.”
“Make it stop! Make it stop,” Caleb trembled violently, pain shooting through his arm and head. The more he got worked up, the more it hurt. Tears slid down his cheeks, his vision blurred as he tried to focus on Zayne and Rafayel. His chest hurt from hyperventilating.
Mephisto cawed, signalling Sylus’ return from Onychinus business. Caleb barely registered a fourth person in the room, too lost in scenes from years gone by and the feeling of a knife jamming its way through his brain. He vaguely heard Zayne tell Sylus to get the medical kit, a clean cloth, and some water. Gradually, the throbbing in his skull receded and he allowed his head to drop onto Zayne’s shoulder, all the while wishing he could disappear.
Caleb despised showing any kind of weakness, especially around Pips. He certainly didn’t want to have a literal god and a dragon watch him fall apart, the cracks he was usually so good at hiding, gaping open and leaking the ruined pieces of him all over the floor. Zayne was the only one he truly trusted he could break down in front of. Zayne wouldn’t hold his weaknesses over his head for blackmail or manipulations. No, Zayne would never do that to him.
The doctor frowned when Caleb barely flinched as he cleaned his bloodied shoulder. He was still shuddering violently, his shaky exhales interrupted every so often by a faint sniffle. Zayne didn't have the heart to push Caleb's head from his shoulder,it would help with his visibility and mobility in cleaning his bloodied shoulder, but Caleb's comfort was more important right now.
“You're safe,” Zayne murmured quietly, feeling cold anger in his chest as he looked at the scars littering Caleb's back and torso. He finished wrapping up Caleb's shoulder and wiping away the blood from his hands.
“Don't go,” Caleb hissed, clinging to Zayne when the doctor moved to inspect Rafayel's bruised neck. “Please,” he whispered quietly, the vulnerability in his voice making Zayne's heart clench.
“I'm not going anywhere. I just need to check on Rafayel,” Zayne spoke gently yet firmly. “I'm right here.”
Caleb winced as Zayne mentioned Rafayel, vague memories of his hand clenching around the Lemurian’s throat resurfacing. His grip on Zayne loosened, and he was stuck with the desire to sink into the floorboards and away from the watchful eyes in the room. It was a small miracle Pips hadn't woken up with the commotion.
“What happened?” Sylus' deep timbre echoed in the small space. He sat down on the plush armchair in the corner of the room. The bed was a bit crowded, and the dragon knew Zayne would yell at him if he tried to join them. The doctor needed his space while he treated Rafayel and Caleb.
Caleb clenched his jaw and looked away. “Just a nightmare,” he muttered bitterly. He didn't need Sylus worrying about him or worse, mocking him. Logically, he knew Sylus probably wouldn't mock him for having a nightmare, but Caleb's mind was too hectic to think logically at the moment.
Sylus raised an eyebrow, sharing a glance with Rafayel and Zayne. Caleb never liked to talk about what he’d experienced at the hands of EVER and the Fleet. But they all knew where these night terrors originated. The first time Sylus had heard what EVER did to Caleb, he wanted to see the entire organisation reduced to naught but ash, a sentiment Rafayel had echoed.
“Try again, without lying this time,” Sylus drawled, giving Caleb a pointed look.
Caleb’s frown deepened and he bit the inside of his cheek. If it were anyone else, he would have ignored them and changed the subject. But when it was Sylus or anyone in the polycule, the same rules didn’t apply, and the automatic dismissal died in his throat. Caleb looked down at his fingers, where Zayne was gently cleaning away the blood having already dabbed his shoulder with an antiseptic.
“...it’s just night terrors. Sometimes it’s about my childhood or other times it’s after the explosion,” Caleb quietly spoke, taking deep breaths and avoiding eye contact. He hated how vulnerable he felt and looked. He was supposed to be the strong one. He…He had to shoulder everything. To keep her safe. To keep the others safe. If they knew everything then they’d…No, Caleb wouldn’t think about that.
He didn’t notice Sylus and Rafayel sharing a look or the fact Zayne had finished cleaning and tending to his self inflicted wounds. Exhaustion crashed over Caleb, and he struggled to even keep his eyes open. He didn’t want to sleep. He didn’t want to end up back there.
“Don’t fight it,” someone murmured to him. “Sleep. We’ll be here when you wake up.” Caleb let them push him back into laying down, his shoulder twinging faintly in pain. Someone apologized, and then a warmth surrounded him.
When Caleb woke up hours later, he couldn’t move. Not due to fear or anxiety, but from the fact he was at the bottom of a cuddle pile. Sylus was on his right and Zayne on his left. His head was on Sylus’ shoulder. Blinking away his grogginess, he lifted his head to see Rafayel and Pips on top of him and Xavier sprawled out over his legs.
A small smile made its way on his face.
He wasn’t alone anymore.
For the first time in a long time, Caleb wasn’t afraid or in pain.
A huge thank you to @chronosdawn for looking this over and doing some minor edits! Thank you so much!
caleb is 10 when he realizes that he's a physical touch fiend. the rush he gets when his hand lingers on top of your skin after playing with you is like no other. when he presses into your side while you're reading, his thoughts always circle around one topic: you, you, you. when you would run into his room after a nightmare, caleb was ready to swoop you in his arms and hold you until you fell asleep. every response towards you was involuntary.
caleb is 15 when he realizes that teasing 13-year-old you becomes irresistible. when he holds up your book, pencil, or some other item in the air, he watches as you jump up and down to try and grab it back. he's grown a lot in three years; if he had to estimate, he's a whole head taller than you now—20cm at least.
when you throw yourself onto him in an attempt to get your stuff back, he falters. you're laying against him on the couch, shuffling and moving up and down over his body, and caleb's breath hitches. you're so close and right there.
he's going insane. you can't even stand up for five seconds before caleb pulls you down against him once more, saying something about retaliation or revenge while tickling you to death.
caleb is 20 when he's about to leave for the DAA. there's an air of silence around the house. you've trapped yourself in your room more often, stressing over your senior finals. at least, that's what you've been telling him.
"i'm sorry caleb, i really need to study for this test."
"oh! i totally forgot about that project i had due tonight. shit, i'm sorry caleb. we'll have another movie night soon, okay?"
he doesn't know if you're actually this busy or if you're actually ignoring him. all he does know is that he misses you. he wonders about how he could miss someone who was in the room across from him. you were so close, but so far.
when you found out he was leaving—though you had a grin on your face while congratulating him—caleb knew you were devastated. he wondered if you were secretly mad at him for leaving.
two weeks before his departure, he practically forces you to be around him. he laid down next to you like before. he stroked your hair while you napped on the couch. he teased you and picked you up so you could hit him and grab him like you used to. he always chose to put his arm around you during a movie. he dragged you by the hand all around the neighborhood. he needed to all of that again, a thousand times more.
but at 24, it seems like there may have been a wedge between the two of you. calls are more and more infrequent.
"sorry, space signal sucks," he'd type.
"sorry, i was busy with training!" you'd reply, 2 days later.
he thinks that he would do anything to go back to before. he hasn't felt you in months. he sees you only twice a year.
it's hard. it was excruciating during the first few weeks. not only was he dealing with bootcamp, but he always found himself looking to his side, thinking you'd be there with him. at night, you were there, right next to him in bed.
he imagined that you would whisper words of reassurance in his ear. you'd hold onto him like you used to, when you had nightmares, and wrap your legs between his. there were days where we stroked his necklace, wishing that it was your hand instead. what he would give to have you next to him.
all he wants is to be able to feel you again. he chastises his 10-year-old self for taking you for granted back then. he wants to feel the apples of your cheeks when he caresses your face. once,—when he was 13 (you, 11)—he did that, and he thought you had a fever the way you warmed up. if he could, caleb would build a time machine to go back to that.
caleb is 25 when he is out of your life.
he thinks about you every day. it reminds him of when he was in bootcamp five years ago. it takes him back to when he was fifteen; you were on top of him, and his brain was fried to a crisp. caleb wonders if he's always been this way, because he can recall that at ten, you were still the only thing consuming his mind.
even during his arm repairs, you're there throughout all the pain.
when you discover his metal arm, all of caleb's instincts point to the door. he's spent so long trying to hide it from you: it's the constant long-sleeves (even though they made him incredibly uncomfortable), or making sure to only touch you with his left-hand (even though he wanted to pull you in with both hands).
but he stays. because it's you.
you freeze momentarily, listening to his writhes and moans of pain. caleb only notices you're there when he feels your hands brush his shoulder. he jolts back in surprise, and he sees you looming over him.
he stammers something, not even sure of what he said because you're here. you see him. you see it.
caleb's wanted this for so long. he wanted to see you again, in a state where you were both vulnerable, like old times. however, that moment probably wouldn't have come if he doesn't confess about this, so he relays the details.
you listen attentively, eyes wide with shock as caleb goes on. your hands wrap around his metal one, and he feels nothing. it's agonizing. he sees you examine him so gently. your fingers trace over bolts and plates of metal, lightly stroking up and down his arm. and caleb feels nothing.
how often has he dreamed of this? for you to be touching him again, so intimately and softly? he's stayed up countless nights wishing for you to be here, just so he can put his arms around you in a crushing embrace, only to be incapable of feeling you on one side of his body.
you pull away from his arm, asking if the fleet was accountable. when he doesn't say anything, he feels your weight lift off the bed and go towards the door.
whatever happens next is involuntary. he uses his flesh arm to pull you back, caging you between his forearm and his chest. there's no thought to it, no rationalization. it's just you and him. and he's been deprived of this for so long.
he breathes into the crevice of your neck, and he has half a mind to place his entire face there. he wants to breathe you in after being away from you for so long. no conversations, no contact, no touching. the last time he was this close to you was years ago. he needs this, caleb thinks.
the feel of you against his bare chest is something he cannot seem to describe. it's like he's his teenage (or even kid) self again, where he seems to short-circuit whenever he comes in contact with you. you're still small compared to him, but you fit perfectly like you did a decade ago.
he lets you go after he feels you trembling. you don't hesitate to place your hands on his waist and tackle him onto the bed. you catch him off-guard as you pin him beneath you, looking straight into his eyes.
"hold me," you plead, "with your right hand."
caleb lets out a shaky breath. there are voltages of electricity flowing through him—literally and figuratively. his skin sparks alive when he feels you. will it be the same with the metal arm?
slowly, caleb raises his mechanical arm. he wraps it around you, and feels the movement of your back shift downwards. you released a breath you didn't know you were holding. caleb held his.
you wait patiently before caleb starts running his metal hand up and down your back. you watch him exhale as he continues. you press your forehead on his, and you breathe in tandem with him.
caleb is 25 when he discovers that he loves physical touch.
wow like i didn't expect this to get so long... but like here we are???
i think we need to start embracing touch-starved caleb in all of our fics. this man hasn't seen the love of his life in YEARS (infrequently, anyway) so i think once she touches him (like INTIMATELY) for the first time in years he goes a little cray.
also sorry the ending was rushed i wanted to get this over with bc i intented this to be like 500 words but obviously it got way longer than that. what can i say... this freak has dug into my brain.
synopsis: to make Caleb even more yours, you want to put a chastity belt on him.
wc: 2645
tags: msub, sub!caleb, pathetic Caleb, chastity belt, obsessive Y\N, needy, fdom
You loved controlling Caleb, commanding him: from the rhythm of his breaths to the volume of the sobs breaking from his bitten lips. You loved watching how the fearsome colonel, the one whose single glare made every subordinate tremble in fear, turned into nothing but your obedient little puppy. That moment when the wariness toward the entire fucking world would vanish from those violet eyes, - usually so sharp, piercing through anyone who dared to come close, - replaced by an endless, all-consuming love for you, like some goddamn abyss.
The fact that instead of the desire to destroy the whole world, the complete opposite appeared there: the urge to lay it at your feet.
Needless to say, you felt exactly the same.
The need to protect, to shield the man literally with your own body if the situation demanded it. You wanted to tear open your ribcage with bare hands, just to pull out your heart and place it in his palms. You saw absolutely no point in breathing, in simply opening your eyes in a world where your beloved gege wasn't by your side.
In a place where you wouldn’t see that loving gaze directed at you, trembling with overwhelming tenderness.
Where there were no hands that, on pure instinct, wrapped around you in sleep, pulling you as close as possible to his solid chest.
Where there was no scent, - the only one, the dearest, that made everything inside you turn over and settle back into exactly the right order.
The ide-fucking-al Caleb.
Considering all that, the conversation that happened couldn’t really be called unexpected, could it?
Well, maybe for poor gege it still was unexpected.
"This?…" — Caleb stumbles over the word, staring at the open box lying on the table in complete confusion. He’s no longer pressed to your shoulder like some needy little pup; he’s just frozen there, genuinely shocked, but, even more than that, lost. As far as he knew, nothing had been leading up to this. The bite to the ass came out of nowhere, didn’t it.
Just fucking hell.
He clears his throat, coughs lightly, brows knitting together. He opens his mouth and then shuts it again.
Because what the hell is he even supposed to say?
Holly shit?
And you honestly liked the way he looked.
The fact that right now, reddish patches of a blooming blush were decorating his cheeks - delicate, almost translucent, spreading from his cheekbones to his temples and down, toward the neck hidden beneath his collar. The way the man was desperately licking his lips, dried from nervousness. And, the most fucking devastating part, he couldn't even bring himself to look at you right now.
At all.
Not once.
Those violet eyes of his, usually so bold and piercing, were glued to the table, to the small box, and to his own fingers, nervously twisting the sleeves of his black shirt.
Jesus-fucking-Christ.
"A chastity belt," — you said the very thing Caleb couldn't bring himself to utter.
And the moment those words left your lips, the man flinched violently, his whole body trembling from head to toe as if an electric shock had passed through him, and finally, he caught your gaze with his own.
You had this distinct feeling Caleb was about to cry. That those violet eyes, so wide now, stripped bare of all their usual sharpness, would fill with tears, and salty tracks would spill down his flushed cheeks, drip onto his barely trembling lips.
Maybe he even wanted to, because he genuinely didn't understand: why? For what? Was this a punishment? But then for what, when everything had been perfect? You'd done nothing but praise him, leaving gentle kisses on his cheeks, lips. You pulled him into you, climbed into his lap, whispered so many compliments, so many confessions of love that it felt like poor Caleb’s heart might have actually stopped at some point.
Simply given out under the weight of the fact that you truly loved him back.
That all those years of waiting, every single night spent alone, denying his own feelings, drowning in a parade of vile thoughts - had been a lie. Just a nightmare that had finally been left behind.
And now - a chastity belt, which, logically, Caleb could only associate with punishment. With something wrong.
Something bad.
"I... I'm sorry..." — he stumbles, chokes on those two simple words, and then, with an immense effort, forces himself to inhale. The air scrapes into his lungs with a ragged, pitiful sound. — "But why? Did I do something wrong?"
And, oh, how fucking adorable those words were.
So much so that your heart starts hammering faster in your chest, the pulse throbbing up into your temples. And somewhere deep inside, around your solar plexus, a hunger flares up, an unbearable urge to devour this man whole. Entirely. To swallow sweet gege down without a trace, so he’d live under your skin, root himself in your lungs, grow through every single fucking cell.
To crush his lips under yours, kissing him until bright colors burst behind eyelids squeezed shut to the point of pain.
To catch every strangled moan, hitching sob, sloppy flick of his tongue.
Adorable.
You move closer on your own, erase the few centimeters left between you two. You can feel the tension rolling off his body in waves, see how every muscle trembles, how the vein at his temple pulses in time with his frantic heartbeat.
"Ge, it's the complete opposite,"— you whisper, taking his hands in yours. So carefully, as if Caleb were made of the thinnest glass that could shatter into pieces from one single, too-hasty, clumsy movement. You do everything to make the man stop clenching them into fists so hard from nerves that his nails leave red crescent-shaped marks on the skin of his palms. The perfect, composed colonel beside you was just a needy little puppy, ready to curl into a ball and whimper at the single thought that he might have somehow fallen out of favor.
You bring his hands to your lips, kiss every nail mark, every reddened patch of skin, his knuckles.
"I just want you to be completely, entirely mine. Isn't that what you wanted yourself?" — you whisper, lifting your gaze. You catch Caleb's eyes - uncertain, pained, barely glistening.
The man hesitates, because here, you were right. He truly did want to belong to you with every single part of his goddamn being, only...
"But I won't be able to..." — Caleb swallows loudly, his Adam's apple bobbing under the thin skin, betraying his tension. — "I won't be able to pleasure myself. And I need to shower, you understand? What will I do if you're away? It's... maybe it doesn't sound that bad, but the inconvenience outweighs any… benefits."
Yes, sure, a chastity belt could be considered a real symbol that he was yours.
However.
What about basic needs? How was he supposed to simply take care of his own body if you weren't there? Basic hygiene still existed, and Caleb hated being dirty longer than circumstances required. Of course, he was used to the smell of sweat, of a body unwashed for days - missions were missions. And he really would endure it, if you forbade him from showering. He would.
He would just be disgusted with himself to the point of uncontrollable trembling, to the point of wanting to tear his own filthy skin off while he was still alive.
You nod, then press a soft kiss to the corner of his lips. And gege, too greedy for any scrap of affection, any tenderness from you, melts instantly under that touch. He tries to stretch the moment of closeness, turning his face just slightly, silently offering you the other side too.
"Well, the whole point of a chastity belt is exactly that, so you can’t satisfy yourself on your own, ge," — you say, and despite all your efforts, you can't hold back a barely audible chuckle.
The man tenses noticeably at these words. Were you planning to deny him sex with you? Wasn’t he satisfying you? Wasn’t he good enough? Were you...
"And, to get ahead of all your thoughts, I just want to control this aspect. To make it so you can only come with me, understand? Only from my hands, only after my permission. Nothing else. Be a good boy, nod if you understand. "
And Caleb nods.
The words ricochet off the inside of his skull, spinning through his fucked-up, overwhelmed mind, refusing to settle anywhere. "Then will you let me put it on you?"
With these words, you slowly pull away, making gege unconsciously frown from the too-obvious feeling of loss. He’d been away from you for a whole damn week, out on some fucked-up mission. And right now, his only real desire was to be as close to you as physically possible.
Constantly by your side.
But not all questions had been answered yet.
"What about hygiene? If you have the key, I..."
"We'll have two keys: one with you and one with me," — you answer faster than Caleb can finish his thought. And the look on his face in that same second practically screams, then what’s the point if I can just take it off myself? — "You'll shower with me, video call. It's simple. And besides... Gege, are you really planning to lie to me? Disobey me?
And this, this seemingly simple "disobey me," hits dead center, making Caleb's stupid and utterly pathetic heart freeze, only to pound painfully in his chest the next moment.
He would never dare.
Wouldn't even entertain the thought of undermining your trust, which he had earned so long and so diligently. Especially not for something as trivial as a simple desire to come.
"No. Never", — the man whispers. He moves closer to you, presses his forehead to your shoulder, buries his face in the curve of your neck, inhaling so deeply it's like he wants to fill his lungs with your scent to the very brim. — "I’ll be good for you. I will. Just…"
Caleb bites his lower lip, fingers tangling in the fabric of your hoodie.
"Don’t leave me."
Caleb, with his light house sweater rolled up to his chest, was digging his fingers into it so hard his knuckles went white, barely managing not to tremble like a fragile branch in a vicious winter wind. The fabric crumpled under his grip, gathering into uneven folds, while all his attention was fixed on you, on your hands and the cold glint of metal between them.
It felt strange, standing half-naked in front of you in the bathroom like this. With you fully dressed, composed and that hard expression buried deep in your eyes - eyes that, to him, looked more like two abysses.
A small amount of steam still lingered in the air after his shower, but even so, Caleb could have sworn goosebumps were running across his skin from the cold.
From the anticipation.
From that tight, sickly-sweet dread of what was about to happen.
"Ge, it's okay. Don't be so nervous." — And your voice sounded steady, not reflecting the emotions raging inside of you at all.
Ten minutes. Maybe less. And your beloved gege would belong to you more than before. You'd crawl under his skin deeper, bind him to you a little tighter, making him depend on you in a few new ways. Maybe, a little later, he wouldn't be able to take a single step without your knowledge, permission, or your gaze burning from the phone screen.
Did that realization thrill you?
Oh, fuck yes.
A tight, fucking hot knot was twisting low in your stomach, its heat felt even in your goddamn throat. Your fingers tingled with the urge to touch, to squeeze, to leave bruises on those pale thighs, on that barely trembling waist. Controlling your own breath took an enormous, truly inhuman effort, just to not give away all these emotions and thoughts.
The fantasies about what could come next.
Right now, Caleb was letting you do this, put a chastity belt on him, but what next? What else could you ask him for? And at what point might the man draw a line between you two, uttering that one word, "no"?
Taking the main ring, you guide first one, then the other testicle through it, and only then his cock, running your fingers over his post-shower heated skin. The metal had already warmed up, but it still felt foreign here, wrong, making Caleb flinch slightly. Air caught in his lungs at the realization that the step into the abyss had been taken, and there was, unfortunately, no turning back now.
Part of you wanted to stretch this moment into infinity. Another part understood how hard gege was shaking inside, anxious, barely able to find his place in this spacious bathroom and the silence that pressed down.
So yes.
Despite your own selfish hunger, you worked quickly.
And the moment the lock clicked shut, Caleb finally let himself exhale. Ragged and hot, dropping his gaze downward, to his cock, hidden behind the metal. He felt an unfamiliar weight, pressure, and it was strange.
Wrong.
So foreign that for several long moments, the man had to fight the urge to tear this cage off himself and then forget the whole thing like a bad dream.
But your gaze, so self-satisfied and tender, nullified all the negatives.
Now Caleb belonged to you a little more, right? And that meant nothing else mattered.
He just had to breathe.
"Good boy. Such a good boy," — after a short pause, you say, rising from your knees. You help gege unclench his fists, run your fingers over his whitened knuckles, massaging them. He finally releases the poor sweater fabric. You leave a kiss on his cheek. — "Not so scary, right?"
Caleb would have argued.
He would have protested, bring up a thousand reasons, told you how strange it felt, how the metal chilled his skin, how the weight dragged at him, how his brain refused to accept the new sensation. But all those words got stuck in his throat like a nasty lump.
Because, honestly, something else bothered him more.
Something that had been gnawing at him from the moment you opened that small box and set it on the table.
"Why did you decide to do this now?" — The man refused to say put a chastity belt on me. He’s too fucking embarrassed even to look down there, let alone say it out loud. Not just his cheeks - his ears, his damn neck are burning. His eyes dart somewhere between your chin and the bathroom tiles.
He didn't understand what he was supposed to do now, how to act. Should he keep standing half-naked in the bath, waiting for your next command? Or go back to what you’d two planned? Watch a movie, make dinner together.
Caleb had a whole list of plans for these two weeks of leave. A real, goddamn list, detailed and thought out to the smallest detail. He wanted to take you to the newly opened amusement park, to ride the goddamn Ferris wheel, squeezing your hand at the very top, drag you into those stupid haunted mazes where monsters jump out from corners. Wander through temporary exhibitions that always seemed to end before your schedules ever lined up. Pull you into one of those tiny local cafés that sold the exact little cakes you loved scrolling through on social media.
Just go on endless dates with you.
Hold your hand. Kiss the top of your head. Feel your warmth beside him.
You, biting your lower lip, hesitate for a moment.
"I got a call this morning. Something urgent came up. I have to leave the city for four days."
And, oh.
For Caleb, that sounds like the beginning of the apocalypse.
sylus likes using a leash when he fucks you. it was so satisfying, being able to pull you as he wished, dragging you from room to room and watching how you followed on your knees, intent on doing anything it took to please him.
the first time he brought it up was after he had already purchased the collar. sylus never coerced you into anything, but he had a knack for knowing when you would be interested in stuff—and this was right up your alley. he watched you open the packaging, stifling a laugh when your eyes widened while pulling out the leather collar, baby pink with fur lining the inside. you turned it in your hands, heart racing at the engraving “sy’s girl” along the bottom.
before he even had a chance to speak you were unbuckling the accessory, moving between his thighs so he could help put it on. your breath caught after it clicked shut, mind feeling hazy as you turned to him and nuzzled against his thigh. his cock twitched at how easily you slipped into the role, attaching the leash to the collar and pulling gently to watch as you obediently moved, pliant in his hands.
since then, it had become routine to wear the collar. you weren’t the only one that got immersed in your role though—sylus took being an ‘owner’ very seriously. he trained you, praised you, and made sure to punish you when he deemed appropriate.
“pets don’t talk, remember?”
“do you really think you’ve earned my cock? what are you gonna do for me if i fuck that needy cunt?”
“oh im sorry, did i tug the leash too hard? such a shame, look how you’re crying now”
he was so mean when he fucked you too, taking you from behind while gripping the leash hard and making you arch deep for him. his thrusts were just as harsh as they were deep, nearly bruising your cervix each time he fucked into your heat. it wasn’t like you hated it though, you would push back against him the second he started to pull out, begging him to fuck you through your heat and breed you.
“spread those legs wider, gonna fill you til’ it’s leaking angel”
he would press you even further into the bed, resting his full weight against you as he fucked every drop of cum into you, only pulling out after he was sure it took. he never stopped there though, sylus always made sure to clean you up, first with his tongue then a warm cloth—you were his kitten after all.
