Hello! If your requests are still open, may I request a Colonel Caleb x hunter association mc reader nsfw one? Perhaps where they're both so busy with work, their plans never work out and it gets frustrating until one day they can finally meet up :) Thank you!
No More Rain Checks — 夏以昼 Xia Yizhou / Caleb / MC
You and Caleb have been trying to meet up for weeks, but work keeps getting in the way. Missions run late, calls come at the worst time, and every plan turns into another rain check. So when the two of you finally get a night alone, Caleb has no intention of wasting it.
warning: NSFW; reader is MC; mild possessiveness; established relationship.
You had stopped believing Caleb when he said he’d see you soon.
That was not because he didn’t want to see you. In truth, he wanted to see you more than he ever let on. He always meant it when he promised dinner after your patrol, or when he told you to keep your evening open for late-night dessert.
“Just one more briefing, pipsqueak,” he would say, “and then I’m all yours.”
But Caleb’s work had a terrible sense of timing, and yours wasn’t much better.
The first time, you had already changed out of your uniform, showered, and submitted your patrol report for the day. You had even gone through the effort of choosing a pretty outfit, one that Caleb might have liked if not for the fact that you had spent twenty minutes standing in front of your closet arguing with yourself.
Then, your phone lit up, and you thought it was him saying he was outside your door.
No. It was Caleb’s name over a message that made your entire face fall.
The briefing ran over. Don’t wait up for me.
A second bubble appeared before you could decide whether to be disappointed or annoyed.
And don’t make that face. I know you’re making it.
You stared at the screen, offended.
I’m not making a face.
You absolutely are.
You dropped onto your bed with a huff, typing harder than before.
Colonel, are you accusing me of being predictable?
Only when it comes to me.
He wasn’t wrong there. Even when Caleb was not physically present, he still knew how to get under your skin. You could hear his voice in every message, the teasing tone beneath each word as if he were leaning right over your shoulder.
That was what made the cancellations worse. By that point, you should have been used to the late-night calls, the rain checks, and the silences over the phone because neither of you wanted to be the first one to say goodbye.
The second time, however, it was your fault.
Caleb had managed to clear an evening and called you as you were leaving the Hunter Association building.
“Tell me you’re done,” he said.
“I’m done,” you said, smiling.
“Great. I’m coming to get you.”
“You don’t even know if I said yes.”
“You missed me too much to say no.”
You rolled your eyes, but your smile betrayed you. “You’re insufferable.”
“Still means you missed me, right?”
He was right, unfortunately. You had missed him. You missed the way he looked at you like the entire world could wait its turn, the way he said your name when he was no longer teasing.
Then the emergency alert flashed across your screen, and your smile faded before he even asked.
“Wanderer?” he asked.
“Yeah,” you replied.
“How bad?”
“Bad enough that they’re calling everyone.”
There was a pause. You could picture him standing in uniform, his jaw tightening, one hand braced against his hip because he knew better than to tell you not to go. That was the thing neither of you admitted. You both understood duty well enough to resent it, but that understanding did not make it any less frustrating.
“Be careful,” he said at last.
“I know.”
“No,” Caleb said, firmer now. “Be more careful than usual. I have plans for you.”
Your grip tightened around your phone. “That so?”
“Mhm. And I’m getting tired of rescheduling.”
Briefly, you considered telling the Hunter Association to handle its own disaster. Then another alert came through, and the choice vanished.
“I have to go,” you said.
“Okay.”
Neither of you tried to hang up right away. The silence stretched long enough to make your chest ache before Caleb finally exhaled.
“Go on, pipsqueak,” he said. “Before I change my mind and come drag you away myself.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“No,” he admitted. “But I’d think about it.”
That was how it kept going.
Dinner became coffee. Coffee became a ten-minute call in the middle of the night. A promised afternoon turned into a message sent from a transport bay. A free morning was buried under paperwork, then a briefing, then one more thing that became five. By the end of the month, you had stopped feeling surprised when plans fell apart. Annoyed, yes. Disappointed, absolutely. But surprised? Not anymore.
Which was why, when Caleb texted you on a Thursday afternoon, you did not let yourself get excited.
Are you free tonight?
You looked at the message for a long moment, then sent back: Define free.
No patrol?
No.
No emergency calls?
Don’t jinx me.
No reports?
You glanced at the half-finished report open on your computer monitor.
I’m offended by how well you know me.
Then be offended in person.
Your fingers stilled over the screen. You stared at those words, feeling your heartbeat pick up. It was not even romantic. It was Caleb being Caleb, direct and smug and annoyingly aware of the effect he had on you.
Still, you typed: Are you actually free?
A pause.
Then: For once? Yes.
Another message followed.
And before you ask, no, I’m not telling command where I’ll be.
You bit your lip, trying not to smile at your phone like an idiot.
Irresponsible behavior from a colonel.
You miss me?
You hated that your first instinct was not to deny it.
Instead, you wrote: Come over after I submit this report.
His reply came immediately.
You have thirty minutes.
You sat up.
Or what?
This time, the pause was longer.
Or I come over anyway and watch you pretend you can focus.
Your mouth went dry, and you looked back at your report. Or at least, you tried to.
The cursor blinked on the screen. You had two unfinished sections left, both of them requiring your full attention and boring enough to let your mind drift back to Caleb every other sentence.
Thirty minutes.
He had given you thirty minutes.
Naturally, that meant the next five were spent doing nothing productive.
You sat there with your elbow braced on the desk, your chin in your hand, rereading his message. Then, annoyed with yourself, you tossed your phone face down beside your keyboard and forced your hands back into position.
You were a Hunter Association officer. You had faced down Wanderers, handled emergency deployments, and written reports under worse conditions than this. You could finish one stupid report without thinking about Caleb.
Unfortunately, Caleb had never made anything easy.
Your phone buzzed again.
You lasted five seconds before flipping it over.
Twenty-five.
You exhaled through your nose.
Are you counting down now?
Someone has to keep you on task.
This is not helping me focus.
No? That’s disappointing. I thought you liked a little pressure.
Your thighs pressed together before you could stop yourself.
You hated him. You really did.
You locked your phone this time and shoved it farther across the desk.
You made it through half a paragraph before your mind wandered again.
Caleb in uniform. Caleb at your door. Caleb looking at you with that unbearable smile, the one that said he knew what you were thinking and had every intention of making you admit it.
By the time a knock came at your door, you had submitted the report with four minutes to spare.
You stood quickly, nearly catching your hip on the edge of the desk. You checked your reflection in the window, fixed nothing because there was nothing to fix, then went to answer the door.
Caleb was waiting on the other side, still in uniform. The dark jacket fit him well, snug across his shoulders, the collar buttoned, his gloves tucked into one hand like he had removed them on the way up. A few strands of hair had fallen across his forehead, and his eyes moved over you in a slow sweep that made your cheeks warm.
He did not say anything at first.
You crossed your arms. “You’re early.”
His gaze flicked back to your face, amused. “I saw you submitted the report.”
“You checked?”
“I had faith in you.”
“You definitely checked.”
“I definitely checked,” he admitted, stepping inside when you moved back to let him in.
The door shut behind him with a click, and neither of you moved.
It should not have felt so charged. He had been in your apartment before, and you had stood this close to him before. But after weeks of missed plans and interrupted calls, the distance between you felt thinner now, like one wrong move could ruin both of your moods.
Caleb set his gloves on the table near the door.
“You’re staring at me,” he said.
You flushed. “So are you.”
“Well,” he said, “I missed you.”
Your arms loosened at your sides. “You did?”
His mouth curved. “Don’t make me say it twice.”
“Why? Afraid it’ll ruin your image?”
“No.” He stepped closer. “Afraid I’ll say worse.”
Your back met the wall beside the door as Caleb stopped in front of you, his body inches from yours, and his eyes fixed on your mouth.
You lifted your chin. “Worse?”
“Mhm.”
“Like what?”
His hand came up, knuckles brushing along your jaw. “Like how many times I thought about leaving in the middle of a briefing because you sent me a picture of your outfit.”
Your breath caught.
His thumb traced your lower lip. “Or how hard it was to sound normal on the phone when you were half-asleep and saying my name like that.”
You swallowed. “Caleb.”
His eyes darkened.
Then, without warning, he kissed you.
His mouth moved against yours with weeks of restraint behind it, hot and hungry, his hand sliding to the back of your neck as he pressed you into the wall.
You made a sound against his lips, and Caleb groaned.
“Do you have any idea,” he said, pulling back, “how annoying you’ve been?”
You blinked up at him, dazed. “Me?”
“Yes, you.” His mouth brushed your jaw. “Walking around, being patient. Sending me sweet little messages. Telling me to focus when I’m trying to be responsible.”
“You were the one texting countdowns.”
Caleb laughed against your neck, and your fingers curled into his jacket.
His hand slid to your waist, then lower, pulling you against him. The evidence of his own frustration pressed firm against you, and the smugness in his face faltered for the first time.
You tilted your head, letting your lips brush the corner of his mouth. “Seems like I’m not the only one who missed someone.”
His grip tightened. “Careful, pipsqueak.”
“Or what?”
The words had barely left your mouth before Caleb was kissing you again, his body pinning yours with enough pressure to make your knees feel unsteady. You clutched at the front of his uniform, dragging him closer even though there was nowhere left for him to go.
Caleb groaned against your mouth. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.”
“I have a clue,” you said.
His mouth curved against yours. “Yeah? Do you?”
Then his hand went under your shirt, palm hot against your skin, and whatever clever reply you might have had vanished.
His mouth moved from yours to your jaw, then lower, dragging heat down the side of your neck until your fingers curled tighter into his jacket. He kissed like he was making up for every interrupted call, every night he had ended with that frustrated sigh before telling you to get some sleep.
“Caleb," you said.
“Been wanting to hear that in person for weeks,” he murmured.
You tilted your head back, giving him more room, and he took it immediately.
“You’re still in uniform,” you managed.
“Mm.” His mouth moved lower. “You complaining?”
“No.”
He pulled back to look at you, and the violet in his gaze made your stomach twist.
Absurdly, you wanted to laugh. You had waited weeks for him, and now that he was here, all you could think of was that he was still wearing too many layers.
Apparently, Caleb thought the same thing.
You grabbed his hand and pulled him down the hall, but you only made it a few steps before he caught your wrist and turned you back around.
“Too slow,” he said.
Then his hands were on you again.
He kissed you hard as he walked you backward, one hand at your waist, the other at the back of your neck. You stumbled, but he caught you, and before long, the backs of your legs hit the edge of the bed, your shirt already halfway up your ribs.
Caleb paused, his forehead touching yours.
“If you need me to slow down, tell me,” he said.
You looked up at him, chest rising, and shook your head.
Caleb went completely still.
Then he kissed you again.
He pushed your shirt up and over your head, tossing it behind him without caring where it fell. His hands moved over you like he had spent many nights imagining this and hated every second he had been forced to wait.
You reached for his jacket again, tugging at the fastenings.
Caleb huffed a laugh against your lips. “Careful. I don’t want to have to get this tailored again.”
“You said not to slow down.”
“I said you should tell me to slow down.”
You smiled, but it turned into a gasp when he caught your hips and pulled you flush against him. He kissed you again before you could snap back, and you forgot why you had wanted him to shut up in the first place.
Your fingers finally found the opening of his jacket and shoved it from his shoulders. Caleb let you, but only because his mouth was busy at your throat, his hands dragging down your sides as if he could not decide where he wanted to touch first.
When his jacket hit the floor, you reached for the next layer.
This time, he caught your hands.
You looked up at him, annoyed. “What?”
His thumb brushed over your knuckles.
“I missed you,” he said again.
Your breath caught. “I missed you, too.”
Caleb bent and kissed you again before pushing you back onto the bed.
You landed with a gasp, and Caleb followed, one knee between yours, and his body covering yours. His mouth found your neck again, then your collarbone, then the exposed skin above your bra.
Your hands slid into his hair, and he groaned when your nails scraped against his scalp.
“Don’t do that,” he muttered.
You did it again.
Caleb lifted his head, eyes narrowed. “You’re doing that on purpose.”
“Maybe,” you teased.
“You really want to test me tonight?”
You looked at him, at the flush rising high on his cheekbones, the tension in his jaw, the way his composure was fraying right in front of you.
“Yes," you said.
Caleb stared at you.
“Fine.”
His hands moved to your thighs, dragging you closer with such easy strength that your stomach flipped. You barely had time to prop yourself up on your elbows before he was kneeling between your legs, fingers already working at the fastening of your pants.
“Caleb—”
“No,” he said, glancing up at you. “You had weeks to be patient.”
Your breath hitched as he stripped the rest of your clothes from you with none of his usual dramatics, no drawn-out teasing just for the sake of watching you suffer. His patience had run out somewhere between your front door and the bedroom.
When his mouth found you, your head fell back, and you reached for him blindly, fingers catching in his hair.
This time, he did not tell you to stop. He only groaned against you, the vibration making your hips jerk beneath his hand.
“Caleb, please.”
He lifted his head to look at you. His mouth was wet, his eyes dark.
“Please, what?” he asked.
You hated him for making you say it, and hated yourself more for how badly you wanted to.
“Don’t stop.”
His grip tightened. “I wasn’t planning to, pipsqueak.”
“You’re so cocky,” you said.
“I believe I earned it.”
“You’re still wearing too many clothes.”
That wiped the smirk off his face. He pulled back and started removing the rest of his uniform so hastily that it made you laugh despite yourself.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing.”
“No, say it.”
“You’re very obedient for a man so bossy.”
His eyes flicked to yours.
“Watch it, pipsqueak,” he said again, but this time his voice was lower.
You watched him as each piece of clothing landed on the floor. “You keep warning me.”
“Perhaps because you keep not listening.”
“Maybe you’re bad at giving orders.”
Caleb stopped.
Then he leaned over you, one hand pressing into the mattress beside your head, his body bare against yours.
“You want orders?” he asked.
Your throat went dry. “Mhm.”
His smile returned. “Then be good and kiss me.”
You lifted yourself to meet him, and Caleb caught your mouth. The kiss turned messy immediately, all heat and teeth and hands that could not stay still. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down until his body settled over you.
Caleb groaned into your mouth when your legs slipped around his waist. Your hips shifted beneath him, seeking friction, and the smug look that spread across his face was so insufferable you almost regretted missing him.
Caleb’s hand moved down your side, over your hip, then to your thigh, fingers pressing in as he dragged your leg higher around him. The motion pulled him closer, and both of you went still when you felt how little restraint he had left.
His jaw tightened. “You’re making this very difficult.”
“Is this really the time to complain, Colonel?”
“God, that mouth,” he muttered, and kissed you again before you could answer.
“Caleb,” you gasped, your fingers digging into his shoulder.
His mouth brushed yours. “Still want to test me?”
You looked up at him, hating how quickly your body gave up the argument your mouth kept trying to win. Hating that after weeks of waiting, one night with him was enough to make you feel reckless.
“Caleb, please.”
He stilled. “Please, what?”
You glared at him, though it was ruined by the way your legs were still wrapped around him.
“Don’t be annoying.”
“I waited weeks to hear you ask nicely. I’m allowed to be a little annoying.”
“I missed you less now.”
“No, you didn’t. Never that.”
Then he kissed you again, and you decided you would argue with him later, when your brain was working, and his hips were not between your thighs.
“Tell me if it’s too much,” he said.
You nodded. “I’ll tell you.”
Then, Caleb pushed into you, and the world narrowed to the stretch, the heat, and the inhale he tried and failed to hide against your neck.
His forehead dropped to your shoulder, his grip tightening in the sheets beside you. You felt the tremor run through him, the strain in the muscles of his back beneath your hands, and the realization that he was holding himself back made something hot and helpless twist low in your stomach.
“Caleb,” you whispered.
“Give me a second.”
You turned your head. “I thought you were the one who said not to slow down.”
He let out a breathless laugh. “You’re evil.”
His hips moved then, one hard, sudden thrust that stole the rest of your sentence from your mouth.
Caleb lifted his head to look at you, then moved again, and again, the rhythm finding itself quickly. Weeks of missed plans cracked open all at once. Your hands dragged down his back, his mouth against yours, and the bed creaked beneath you as he drove into you with all the frustration he had been swallowing.
Caleb cursed under his breath when you clenched around him, and you bit his shoulder when he hit the right angle. His hand moved beneath your knee, pulling your leg higher until your whole body arched beneath his.
“Fuck,” he groaned. “That’s it. Fuck.”
You could not answer. You could not even think past the pressure building again, faster than you expected. Caleb changed the angle of his hips, and your head fell back against the pillow.
“Caleb—”
His control slipped, his rhythm turning rougher as his hand gripped your thigh and his mouth pressed hard against your jaw.
“Yeah. Say it again.”
You did.
He groaned. “Fuck. Again.”
“Caleb.”
“Again.”
This time, you could not manage his name properly. It dissolved into a moan as your body tightened around him, pleasure coiling so tightly that your nails dug into his back.
He held you as you came apart, hips never stopping, dragging it out until you were trembling beneath him and clinging to him like you would disappear if you let go. Caleb followed soon after, his breath catching as his body went tense, and one last rough groan left him before he buried his face against your neck.
The room was quiet except for your breathing and the hum of the city outside your window. Caleb was heavy over you, careful not to crush you. His hand had found yours, fingers tangled together against the sheets.
You stared at the ceiling, dazed.
Then, because you were you, and because he was Caleb, you said, “So.”
He croaked against your neck. “Wait.”
“I was just going to say—”
“If you say ‘worth the wait,’ I’m leaving.”
You laughed.
Caleb lifted his head, hair a mess, face flushed, eyes narrowed at you. “You’re laughing?”
“You just threatened to leave while still inside me!”
He dropped his forehead against your shoulder and laughed, too. “Fair. Bad timing.”
He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, then another to the side of your neck. “I’m not leaving.”
Your fingers moved lazily through his hair. “For tonight?”
Caleb lifted his head again, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand where it still held yours.
“No more calls,” he said. “No more briefings.”
“You sure?”
“You asked for tonight, right?” His mouth curved. “Tonight, I’m officially missing.”
“You’re going to get in trouble.”
“Mm. Probably.”
“You don’t sound concerned at all.”
“I’m not.”
You looked at him then, brows furrowed. “Why?”
Caleb leaned down and kissed you.
“Because I finally got to see you,” he said. “And I’m not wasting the rest of it.”
thank you for the request, anon ♡ colonel caleb is my weakness, and my favorite version of caleb to write. hope you enjoyed!
available on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/85289336
sincerely, supernova
