hi im yasha you may have seen my post going around! long story short, i am really really close to securing an apartment with a friend, but i do need another 170$ to pay my part for the first and last month. i'm so so close to getting out but i just don't know where to look, so i'm opening up comms a little earlier than i planned! you can find examples of my work in my art tag (listed in bio) or through my ko-fi!
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Synopsis: You are a professional rage-baiter. You always have been. Teasing Caleb in broad daylight is your favorite pastime. But when you ask Gideon to ride in his plane? Caleb shows you just how much better he is, AND how superior his Plane is.
Warning; Smut, Possessive Caleb, Semi-public Smex, Fighter Jet/Plane Smex, I don’t know a lot about planes and all that so bear with me, Plane as a…Smex toy?, Caleb REALLY loves his plane, brief Gideon X Reader, Breath play, teasing, orgasm denial.
A/n: Yeahhh I fw this plot. The commissioner gave me a good bit of free rein with this one and I took it LOL!
You were a notorious rage-baiter for Caleb. Even when you were little kids, you did everything in your power to push his buttons. From purposely putting yourself in danger to saying slide remarks you knew made his eye twitch.
But in the hangar, where you waited for Caleb to finish tuning up his plane, you made the final straw.
Gideon was a handsome guy, even Caleb had to admit. He had a boyish grin, all teeth and happy. Not touched by some of the dark shit Caleb was forced to endure. He was just in ear-shot of your conversation when the question slipped out of your mouth.
“Gideon, you should let me be your co-pilot on your next flight!”
Caleb’s playful smirk drops instantly, his purple eyes darkening as he processes your words. Caleb dropped the wrench in his hand and approached, wiping his dirty hands on a rag. The air in the room shifts, tension coiling around him like gravity itself bending to his mood.
"His co-pilot?" You can sense the anger in his voice, like the hum of a fighter jet before it breaks the sound barrier. "You wanna sit in Gideon’s cockpit, huh? Let him show you how he flies?"
He leans in, his breath warm against your ear. You can feel the smug, competitive fire in him igniting. "Sweetheart, if you wanna see how a real pilot handles his ship, you don’t need to ask him." His red bandanna he was using to keep his bangs out of his eyes droops down across his forehead. "I’ll take you higher, faster—harder—than Gideon ever could."
His eyes shoot up to Gideon who is standing mere feet away. "And you’re not getting in that man’s plane."
He’s seething, but you know him. He’ll turn this into a challenge. And he never loses.
Gideon clears his throat awkwardly. “I uh…I don’t mind. She’s flown with you plenty of times. She can probably fly your girl better than you could.” Gideon jokes.
Caleb’s head snaps toward Gideon so fast it’s a miracle his neck doesn’t crack.
"Oh, really?" He tilts his head, eyes glinting with that competitive fire that makes pilots either worship or fear him. "Gideon, buddy, you’re about to learn why they call me Colonel Xia."
His sweaty bicep ripples when he cleans the imaginary oil off of his hands.
"Tell you what, sweetheart. Tonight, I’ll show you exactly why you only fly with me." His eyes shoot to his friend with a scoff. "And Gideon? You’re on cleanup duty for a month."
He’s already mentally calculating how many G’s he’s gonna pull just to prove a point. Poor Gideon.
The rest of the day feels like an eternity, Caleb barely keeping up a veneer of professionalism to hide just how riled up he is.
Finally, the sun starts to dip, signaling sundown, and the base slowly starts winding down for the night. Caleb finishes up his work, his thoughts consumed by images of you and his ship.
You wait for Caleb next to his plane like usual. After his shifts he always had something exciting and new planned for you two.
Tonight was different.
The hangar is bathed in the dim glow of overhead lights, casting long shadows across the sleek, metallic curves of Caleb’s prized fighter. The "Stormchaser." She’s a beauty, all sharp angles and lethal grace, her matte-black hull accented with violet insignias that shimmer under the low light. Her wings are folded back, poised like a predator ready to strike, and the hum of her dormant engines thrums through the air like a heartbeat.
Caleb leans against her flank, arms crossed, his flight suit unzipped just enough to reveal the necklace you gave him. The apple one he never takes off. His purple eyes lock onto you the second you step into the hangar, a slow, wicked smirk curling his lips.
"Took you long enough," he purrs, pushing off the ship to stalk toward you. His boots echo against the metal floor. "Thought maybe you got lost on your way to Gideon’s plane."
He stops just inches from you, his scent wavers into your nose. Jet fuel, leather, and jealously still linger in him. One hand lifts to brush your cheek, his thumb tracing your bottom lip.
"But you’re here now," His head tilts. "Which means you get to learn firsthand why nobody flies my girl but me."
“Are you talking about your plane or me?” You give a small laugh but it gets stuck in your throat.
His smirk deepens, his hand dropping to your waist to pull you closer. His fingers grip the material of your shirt, a pretty blouse that dips a bit too far down for his liking.
"Both," he chuckles. He’s no longer the childhood boy you once knew. "You belong to me. And you only ride in my cockpit."
Before you can even process the heat of his words, Caleb is hoisting you up. One hand slides to the back of your thigh as he lifts you effortlessly against him, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. His other hand braces against the hull of the Stormchaser. The metal cool under his palm as he pins you there, the hard lines of his body trapping you between him and the machinery.
"Let’s settle this," he growls, lips crashing against yours in a kiss that’s all teeth. Hems trying to rewrite Gideon’s name from your memory with just his tongue. "You’ll forget his fuckin’ plane exists by the time I’m done with you."
With a fluid motion, he drops to his knees. His hands grip your thighs, strong and sure as he lifts you with ease, holding you up. Your legs dangle, but his broad shoulders brace you, keeping you off the ground as he positions you perfectly against the hull of the Stormchaser.
"You ever touch another plane again, sweetheart," he purrs, voice a rough rumble as he looks up at you with those purple eyes burning like a star. "You’ll regret it."
His hands slide up your thighs, fingers pressing into your skin. The cold metal of the Stormchaser bites into your back, contrasting sharply with the heat radiating off Caleb’s body. His breath fans over your stomach as he leans in, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss just below your navel. The t-shirt you wore road up to expose just the tiniest bit of flesh.
"And since you clearly need a reminder," he murmurs, voice dripping with dark amusement, "I’m gonna make sure you feel every second of this flight."
His mouth is already moving lower, and you’re pretty sure Gideon’s name just got permanently erased from your vocabulary.
Caleb’s fingers hook into the delicate fabric of your panties, his thumb tracing the damp seam through the lace before he drags them aside. The cool hangar air kisses your exposed skin, but his breath is hotter.
"Oh Pipsqueak," he slurs, pushing your skirt up, your thighs trembling around his shoulders. "Cute pussy s’wet already."
And then he takes what he wants. No teasing, no mercy, just his mouth on you. The flat of his tongue is laving slow and filthy. He’s savoring the taste. His free hand grips your hip, pinning you harder against the Stormchaser’s hull as he works you over like a piece of candy.
And somewhere in the back of your mind, you realize—Gideon who? Because Caleb’s making sure you forget.
Caleb pulls back just enough to let you catch your breath, his lips glistening with your slick.
"Still thinking about Gideon?" he taunts, as his thumb circles your clit, slow and teasing. "Or am I the only pilot you wanna fly with now?"
His fingers curl against your thigh, his grip tightening enough to make you whimper. "Answer me, sweetheart."
And you know he won’t stop until the only name on your lips is his.
Even as your body trembles around him, you manage to muster up a defiant smirk, struggling to keep the last vestiges of your brattiness intact.
"Maybe." you murmur, voice a bit breathless but still cocky. "Maybe I have to compare to make sure."
This challenging tone is familiar. You two often get into playful fights, each trying to outmanoeuvre the other. His eyes glint with heat at the familiar feeling, his fingers pressing harder against your sensitive skin.
Caleb’s smirk turns downright predatory as he hooks his fingers into the delicate fabric of your panties, peeling them down your thighs. The lace catches slightly on the meat of your thighs before he finally tugs them free. They dangle from between his fingers like a trophy.
"Mine now," he growls, stuffing them into the pocket of his flight suit with a flick of his wrist. "And don’t think I won’t be using these later."
His swollen lips drag up your inner thigh. "Every time I strap into that cockpit, I’ll be thinking about how you looked right here, spread out for me against my ship." His fingers trace your plush lower lips. "And trust me, Pips. I’ll be ruthless next time we fly."
You can already picture it. Caleb palming them in the pilot’s seat, that smug look on his face as he pushes the throttle harder just to hear you whimper behind him.
Caleb doesn’t hesitate now. His mouth crashes back against you like a man starved, tongue laving deep and filthy as he drinks you in. Your thighs tremble around his head, fingers tangling in his hair to keep him right where you need him, but he’s in control.
He’s always been the one in control.
"Fuck—Caleb," you whimper, back arching off the cold metal of the Stormchaser as his tongue flicks over your clit in ruthless strokes. "Please—please—just—"
He chuckles against you, the vibration making you jerk, but he just follows. "Just what, Pips?" he taunts, pulling back with your clit between his lips before it snaps back against your juicy center. "Use your words."
You’re a mess, hips rolling desperately against his mouth, but he holds firm.
"A finger—! J-just—put one in, please!” you beg, voice breaking as your body clenches around emptiness.
His grin is pure sin as he finally—finally—slides a single finger into you. "That what you needed?" he murmurs, lips brushing your inner thigh. “You still feel a bit too tight for me Pips.~”
His scent is jet fuel and leather,m and the smell of desperation.
"I could go higher…" His mouth latches against your clit. His tongue flicking back and forth to taste each inch.
His touch is electric. He’s always been so thorough with picking you apart like this.
"I could soar faster…" between his words, his tongue moves faster. The wet slushes of his tongue through your wetness drowns out the heavy hum of the overhead air conditioner.
"I could push the envelope…" he’s diving back in like he can’t get enough. Buthe's not just talking about flying anymore.
Caleb watches you unravel beneath him with a smug, self-satisfied grin. His one finger, calloused from flying and pistols pressed against your walls. It’s not enough but it will bring you to that peak just the same.
"You’re clenching so pretty," his violet eyes dance across the curve of your mound, finger twisting inside. "Like you’re trying to keep me in her."
You whimper, thighs trembling, but he just tsks, tilting his head like he’s studying a flight maneuver. "Think you can take another one, sweetheart?" His free hand trails down your stomach, teasing, before his middle finger presses against your entrance.
You gasp, back arching. "Caleb—please—"
He hums and shakes his head. "Ask nicer."
And when you sob out his name, he takes pity and slides a second finger in alongside the first. Hems stretching you in one smooth, relentless push. "There we go," he purrs, curling them just so until you see stars. "Now that’s how you fly."
Caleb watches you with a wolfish grin as your body tightens around his fingers, your breath hitching in ragged gasps. You see him watch you, his two fingers dragging you to the edge.
"Ohhh, there it is," he coos, his tone mocking yet unbearably fond, like he’s praising you for finally catching on. "That’s my girl, squeezin’ me just right."
He slows his fingers to a torturous pace, letting you feel every ridge, every deliberate curl. He drags them halfway out before pushing them back in just to hear you whine.
"You sound so pretty," he teases, pitching his voice high in a mocking imitation of your moans. "Ohhh, Caleb—f-faster!" He chuckles, like he’s teasing you on the playground again. "That it? That’s all you wanna say?"
You try to glare, but your hips jerk instead, betraying you.
"Uh-oh," he tsks, clicking his tongue. "Your body’s begging for me, but that bratty little mouth’s still fighting it." His fingers crook hard, and you scream.
"Too bad," he murmurs, watching you unravel with a predator’s grin. "I win."
And he does, every damn time.
The moment your thighs start to quiver, Caleb’s mouth crashes against your clit like he’s starving. He’s sucking, licking, devouring with messy, open-mouthed kisses that mimic the filthy rhythm of his fingers. It’s obscene, the way his tongue laps at you like he’s trying to taste every drop before you even finish. His nose keeps bumping your sensitive little clit as he groans against you.
“C’mon, sweetheart,” he rasps, lips glistening, “Give it to me.”
And you do.
Your back arches off the Stormchaser’s hull as you cum, his fingers pumping through it, his mouth sealing over you to swallow every twitch, every pulse. Like he’s determined to wring out every last little twitch and whimper.
When he finally pulls back, his chin is slick, his smirk even more so.
“That’s how you land,” he purrs, licking his lips. “No co-pilot required.”
Your legs nearly give out when Caleb finally lets you stand, and you have to grab onto him to keep from stumbling as he chuckles, his hands steadying you.
"Careful, Pipsqueak.” His flight suit is unzipped, the stained white tank top underneath bared to the hangar.
He steps away just long enough to tap his data pad, sending the cockpit glass sliding open with a soft thwump.
"In you get," he instructs, gesturing for you to slip into the seat.His Evol slithers from his fingers and you levitate, bare ass flashing under your skirt.
Caleb's smirk turns downright wicked as his Evol pulses, a shimmering violet glow wrapping around you before you’re suddenly weightless, levitating a few inches off the ground. Your skirt flutters up, exposing your bare ass to the cool hangar air.
"Now that’s a view," he purrs, stepping closer as his gravity field guides you effortlessly toward the cockpit. His fingers trail up the back of your thigh. "Maybe I should keep you like this all flight. Floating right where I want you.”
With a flick of his wrist, he lowers you into the pilot’s seat, your bare skin meeting the cool leather as he leans over you, caging you in. "Buckle up, sweetheart," he pushes a strand of hair from your face. "This ride’s about to get rough."
And you’ve never been more ready for takeoff.
The Stormchaser's cockpit is compact, the controls and monitors packed tight around the pilot's seat. There's a joystick-like piece of machine to your left, buttons and switches to your right, and a myriad of instruments and screens spanning across your field of vision. Caleb's body fills most of the space, his tall frame towering over you as he leans in between your legs.
"It's cozy," he muses, fingers still sticky with your release running over the buttons. "Intimate."
His fingers trail over the handle between your legs. Slick, black and the perfect curve. He reaches into the wallet in his back pocket and flips it open. Your Polaroid photo stares back at him. But so does a condom.
You and Caleb hadn’t used condoms in years. Unless…
He tears open the foil and stretches it wide over the handle. The condom looks seconds away from tearing but somehow the preluded latex stays intact.
"Remember our first time in this cockpit?" He nudges the side of your neck he sits you in his lap instead so you’re facing away from him. You can see your reflection in the glass again as it slides closed. "You were so nervous, kept worryin’ someone would hear."
His grip tightens, pushing you forward until your still shaky thighs are spread and the covered joystick presses right where you’re dripping.
"Guess we’re breaking it in again," he growls, leaning down to nip at your neck. "And this time? I want the whole damn hangar to hear you scream."
The Stormchaser’s never had a smoother pre-flight check.
You whine, your eyes widening as you realize how big the grip is, how it's covered in ridges, it was made for each groove of Caleb's hands.
"What’s that saying, baby?" He chuckles into the curve of your ear. "Anything's a dildo if you're brave enough?"
"Ask me for it the way you asked Gideon to be his co-pilot.”
You whimper, the taunt striking a nerve. You should’ve bitched at him, scoffed and told him what a pervert he was.
But of course you don’t.
"Caleb, please." You wriggle in his lap like a bug trapped under a magnifying glass. "Please, I didn't mean—"
"Didn’t mean to make me jealous? Or to make me feel like I wasn't good enough to be your pilot? Didn't mean to piss me off?" he interrupts. His evol grinds you against the cold rubber around the handle. Just the barest of pressure makes your stubborn walls tense on contact.
"Relax," he orders, using the same tone he uses in the cockpit when he’s pushing the Stormchaser her its limits. "Don’t you dare tense up on me."
Then he presses you down. Slow and relentless, giving you no choice but to take the slick, covered joystick inch by inch. Your breath hitches, your nails digging into your legs as you try to adjust. But he doesn’t stop.
"Biggg stretch" he coos, watching over your shoulder as you open up for the piece of machinery. "Take it. Just like you took Gideon’s offer."
The stretch is relentless, every inch of the joystick’s ridged surface pressing into you with unforgiving precision. You feel every groove, every textured button. Each one dragging against your sensitive walls as Caleb forces you down further, his grip unyielding.
"Fuck! Caleb, it’s too much—" you whimper, your thighs trembling as you try to lift yourself, but his hands clamp down harder, keeping you pinned.
He shakes his head not allowing your escape. "No, sweetheart. You wanted to fly with Gideon? Then you’re gonna take it." His voice drops to a growl. "Thought you were my good girl?"
Eventually the stretch tapers off near the end. You wail in relief, chest already heaving. Your stomach flips in both disgust, anger and lust.
"See?" he purrs, index finger flicking over your now exposed clit from the wide stretch of the handle. "You didn’t need him at all."
His Evol hums to life, a shimmering violet glow wrapping around the joystick as he manipulates gravity itself, making it begin to vibrate. A mechanic sound echoes from the handle and it expands into its full length, pressing even deeper inside.
"Feel that?" His hand flatten against your tummy as the joystick rolls in slow, deep thrust controlled entirely by his will. "That’s how a real pilot handles his ship."
Your moans are muffled against your palm, your body trembling as the joystick fucks you with inhuman rhythm. Every ridge and button dragging against your walls in ways that make your vision blur.
His free hand trails possessively over the Stormchaser’s control panel, then back to your hip. He can’t decide which of his two favorite girls to worship more.
"Pretty lil’ slut," he purrs, voice dripping with smug satisfaction. "My ship beneath you, my shifter in you. Both mine to handle however I want." His teeth graze your shoulder.
The joystick thrusts deeper, hitting that spot that makes your back arch, and Caleb just laughs. "That’s it. Let my girl ruin you."
And you’re pretty sure the Stormchaser’s engines aren’t the only thing overheating.
You whimper, your fingers curling around the cockpit’s handles. YOU need some way to anchor yourself as he coaxes more pleasure out of you.
More and more and more.
Until you can hardly see past the tears blurring your eyes. much less think.
"My first girl. The only one I'll ever need."
Your mind melts into a feverish haze, words spilling from your lips in shameless babbles.
“F-Feels s’good! Ah C-Caleb, please!”
Your hips stutter, grinding down harder on the ridged grip.
"You wanna cum, sweetheart?" His voice is so calm and level you almost feel jealousy. He was almost completely composed while you are dripping and shaking so hard you can’t focus. "Then ask her."
And when you finally sob out a broken plea—
"P-please! Stormchaser, let me—!"
The joystick surges, fucking into your sloppy walls. The stretch pounds against the already sensitive barrier of your cervix.
Turns out, the Stormchaser’s always been a generous co-pilot.
Caleb barely lets you catch your breath.
Caleb’s smirk is pure, unrepentant sin as he leans back in the pilot’s seat. One hand lazily stroking the Stormchaser’s controls while the other guides your fingers to the textured grip of the throttle that couldn’t quite fit inside of you.
“C’mon, Pips,” he purrs. “Show me how creative you can be. My girl has plenty of ways to soothe that ache left behind by Gideon.
And oh, he loves watching you figure it out.
The Throttle is first. He makes you rock your hips against it, the ridged metal dragging against your clit until you’re gasping, your thighs shaking as you grind for relief.
Next is the Seatbelt Harness. He buckles it too tight, the strap pressing right on your swollen clit, forcing you to squirm every time you buck and wriggle.
The Oxygen Mask is last. He tugs it down over your mouth, your breath fogging the plastic as he instructs you. “Breathe deep, just like I taught ya.”
Caleb’s fingers hook under the elastic of the oxygen mask, his smirk turning downright wicked as he drags it down over your mouth. He’s strapping it tight enough that you can’t turn your head, can’t escape the way his eyes burn into you.
"Open," he orders, thumb pressing against the mask’s valve. When you part your lips, he flicks the switch, flooding your mouth with a sharp rush of pure oxygen. Your gasp is muffled, your chest heaving as the cold, metallic taste fills your throat.
"It’s a lot," he coos, watching your pupils dilate. "Breathe it in, just like I do at 30,000 feet."
His free hand slips between your thighs, fingers circling your clit in time with the rhythmic hiss-hiss-hiss of the mask. Each pressurized breath syncing with his touch until you’re dizzy with it, until you can’t tell if the high is from the oxygen or his fingers.
"Cum for me, and I’ll let you taste real air again."
Caleb watches with patience as your body trembles. You are oversensitive, still thrumming from your last orgasm while you try desperately to chase another. Your fingers fumble between your thighs, movements shaky and uncoordinated behind the mask’s muffled restraint. Caleb’s own fingers fight for more room over the slick flesh of your pearl.
Your hips twitch away instinctively even as you whimper for more.
"Aw, struggling?" He rolls that sensitive nub between your pussy lips harder to watch you fog up the mask further. "You begged Gideon to take you up. Beg me to let you come down."
The oxygen mask fogs with your pants, your thighs quivering as pleasure crests into pain, into too much. Until you’re sobbing behind the plastic, tears streaking your cheeks.
"That’s it," he murmurs, cruel and sweet all at once. "Break for me."
You finally crash, his name trapped behind the mask. It stays sealed there, like a secret between you and the Stormchaser.
“Good girl,” he murmurs, patting the ship’s hull. “Knew you two would get along.”
You’re starting to think the Stormchaser might be his favorite.
Watching you come apart is enough to make Caleb impatient. He can’t wait a second later, not when he’s been aching for so long.
“I’m done watching you two have all the fun," he rasps, undoing his flight suit. “Think it’s time I took the controls back.”
Caleb’s Evol swirls, wrapping around your waist as he effortlessly lifts you before he guides you down onto his lap. His hands grip your hips, calloused fingers digging in as he settles you over him, the thick heat of his cock pressing against your soaked folds.
"There we go," his gravity field adjusts, holding you perfectly in place. "Now ride me like you meant to steal this ship."
The first sink down on his hard cock has your eyes rolling back. Your walls know him so well. Would know him in a fuckin’ line up the way he’s dug out the shape of it in your guts.
Caleb knows exactly what to say to make you burn, to make you arch and cry and come undone.
But he has to get his other beauty under his control, has to prove who owns his two favorite girls.
“That’s it, sweetheart. Take me just like you took her handle. Greedy lil’ slut.”
His other hand slaps against the Stormchaser’s instrument panel with a loud, metallic clang, making you jolt around him.
“You hear that, girl?” he rasps to the ship, his fingers stroking the throttle like it’s another lover. “She’s squeezing me just like you do when I push you past Mach 3.”
You whimper, but he just grins, his teeth scraping your collar bone as his hips snap up harder. He’s the only pilot qualified to handle either of you.
"Fuck, you feel s’ good," he growls, you try desperately to grind down on him at a faster pace, but his Evol refuses to let you move even an extra inch. "She vibrates for me just like you do, every time I push her to the limit."
You can almost hear the metal settle in the plane, giving a deep groan, like the stupid fuckin’ plane is talking back to you.
"Yeahhhh, you hear her?" he asks, his hands bouncing your ass back on his cock. The slaps echoes in the cockpit, the glass beginning to fog even more from the shift in temperature.
"Gideon’s little toy plane couldn’t handle you like this," he growls, voice dripping with condescension. "That cheap, small scrap of metal he calls a ship? Please."
Your brain is all fuzzy. Your cunt leaves a white ring around the base of his cock, staining the tan fabric of his flight suit.
"Bet he wishes he could make you scream the way I do," he taunts. His head falls back against the headrest of the seat. His lips are glistening as he licks them like a dog. He drinks in how you look bouncing on his dick. "Bet his pathetic thrusters stall out before he even gets you off the ground."
Another sharp snap of his hips, and you’re seeing stars—
"But me?" He grins, wild and feral. "I’ll take you higher than he ever could."
You whimper, his evol and hands rolling you in tight circles. Each wet slap brings you closer to the edge.
“F-feel s’fuckin’ good. Don’t stop-don’t stop!”
You clench around him, your thighs trembling he rises you up, only to slam your back down in desperate twitches.
"C-Caleb—" Your voice cracks, breath hitching as his fingers trace your collarbone, slow and deliberate. "I’m n-not—"
He groans, silencing you with a sharp pinch to your hip.
"Not what?" he murmurs, tilting your chin up with a single finger. "Not close? Not perfect?" His thumb brushes your lower lip, smearing the words before you can say them.
“Tell her,” he orders, bangs sticking to his forehead with sweat. “Tell my girl how much better she fucks you than Gideon’s piece-of-shit prototype.”
You whimper, but his Evol squeezes, forcing the words out of your
“S-She’s—ah—so much better,” you gasp, thighs trembling as Caleb’s cock drags inside you. “Her—nngh—throttle’s bigger, her—her thrusters deeper—”
What the fuck were you even saying at this point? You didn’t know. You just knew you needed to cum. And fast.
“And?” he prompts, fingers digging into the Stormchaser’s leather seat. “Who’s the only pilot who gets to fly you both?”
You sob his name, and he grins. That infuriating smile that makes both men and woman swoon.
Caleb’s hand tangles in your hair, wrenching your head to the side as he pushes your lips against the cockpit glass. The cold surface fogging with your frantic breaths. His hips piston into you, each thrust jarring you harder.
“Kiss her,” he snarls, voice shredded with lust. “Let her taste what she does to you—”
You whimper, but obey, pressing your open mouth to the glass in a panting, sloppy imitation of a kiss as Caleb loses himself between you. The Stormchaser’s engines scream in unison with your muffled cries, the entire ship shuddering.
“Fuck! Yeah, yeah, f-filthy fuckin’-Hng!”
His release is a claim, hot and ruthless, his teeth sinking into your shoulder as the cockpit fills with the sounds of ruin. Your pink lipgloss smears against the glass.
Caleb cradles you to his chest as you collapse. He takes a finger, messily drawing out a heart into the glass. He puts your initials in the shape with an arrow.
"She knows I have more than one favorite girl."
Thank God for his evol. He’s careful not to jar you as the glass slides open. The cold air nips at your skin as he lowers you to the workbench stool. He grabs a cloth from the cockpit’s emergency kit, dampening it with water from his canteen before wiping the sweat from your brow and the cum from your thighs.
“All cleaned,” He wraps his jean jacket around your shoulders, adjusting your skirt back down while tucking his half-hard cock away. “Sit. Rest.”
He turns to his plane, his hand running over her hull in a slow, appreciative stroke.
“And you,” he says, voice fond but firm, “No more showing off. Let her recover.”
The ship creaks a bit under his touch.
“Good girl.”
Caleb takes his time with the Stormchaser as he wipes away the evidence of your play.
“Sorry about that, girl," he murmurs, patting her side affectionately. “Didn't mean to make such a mess of you."
Hidden in the shadows of the hangar, Gideon leans against the cold metal of his own ship. His jaw is clenched, his breathing angry in huffs. His fist moves in rough, desperate strokes, his gaze locked on the still-fogged cockpit glass of the Stormchaser.
He shouldn’t be watching. He knows he shouldn’t. But Caleb had ordered him to stay behind, to clean up the hangar like some lowly mechanic.
You give a soft giggle as Caleb hands you a leftover piece of candy from his toolbox. Gideon hates how his own hips jerk at the sound, how his cock throbs.
His release is silent and bitter. His teeth sink into his own forearm to muffle the groan as he spills onto the hangar floor.
And when Caleb finally leaves the hangar with you clinging to his arm. Gideon’s already gone. Leaving nothing behind but the proof of his shame.
