A Protocore throws you and Xavier two years into the future. You end up on his balcony. Your future selves end up against the glass door 😏.
CW: Smut. Jealousy. P in V 🔞MDNI🔞
Huge thanks to @stardustsirens for helping me with this series! 🧡🧡🧡
Caleb's part here
"Please tell me that's the last one"
The air reeked of burned grass and dead wanderers. You let out a long breath and let your shoulders drop as the last Wanderer dissolved into light that flickered once and went dark.
A few paces away, Xavier had a few hair strands stuck to his forehead and a thin sheen of sweat at his throat, and that was the extent of the damage. Meanwhile you looked like you'd been dragged behind a truck.
"Perimeter's clear," he said, quiet, like nothing in the world could rattle him. He crossed the debris toward you, boots crunching over glass and rubble. "You're bleeding, though."
You looked down. A chunk of crystal debris had opened a gash along your calf and you hadn't even noticed.
"Huh. Didn't feel that happen."
"Let me look at it." He dropped to one knee, taking a bandage roll out of your hands before you'd even fully pulled it from your pouch.
His hands were warm. Warmer than it made sense, given the cold. When he folded the torn fabric of your pants back to get at the wound, his fingers grazed bare skin and something jumped straight up your spine. You bit down on the inside of your cheek so you wouldn't make a sound about it.
This was the problem with Xavier. Some days he fell asleep against your shoulder like it was the safest place in the world. Other days he kept a careful distance between you and answered everything in a polite, unreadable tone, and you were left wondering if you'd imagined the whole thing.
"Does that hurt?" his thumb pressed against the unbroken skin just above it — the touch was not necessary to wrap the bandage.
"A little," you said, watching the top of his head, how the moonlight caught the color of his hair. "Xavier. Can I ask you something?"
His hands didn't stop moving, but his shoulders went still. "Yeah."
"Why do you do this?" You asked flatly, too tired to dress it up. "Sometimes I think we’re... I don't know, really close. And then other times, you look at me like I'm just another Hunter from the Association. It's confusing."
He finished tying off the gauze, stood up and finally looked at you "I just think about things. More than I probably should."
He reached out to help you up, hands closing firm around your forearms.
"Think about what?"
You went to test your weight on the bandaged leg and the ground chose that second to be uneven. You pitched forward, right into him, your chest hitting his. His hands slid from your arms to your waist to catch you.
Neither of you moved.
You could feel his heart going fast under his uniform, which didn't match the calm on his face at all. His eyes dropped to your mouth, came back up.This is happening, you thought, a little dizzy with it. He's actually going to—.
His grip on your waist tightened. Something cracked open behind his eyes, just for a second "You shouldn't stand this close to me"
"Xavier—"
He stepped back before you could get anything else out.
Crunch. Something snapped under his boot.
A white protocore.
He picked it and it suddenly went off with light, a white light expanding outward faster than you could track. The air got sucked straight out of your lungs. Your ears popped hard enough to hurt, and then the ruins, the sky, and everything else was sucked into a roar of wind that yanked you forward like the world had grabbed you by the throat.
You hit something solid and warm.
"Oof — sorry —"
A grunt came from underneath you. You blinked against sudden dark, hands slapping down flat against Xavier's chest. You were sprawled on top of him, legs tangled, face mashed against his neck.
"Oh my god." You scrambled back so fast you scraped your palms on the floor. "Sorry — are you okay?"
Xavier sat up slowly, rubbing the back of his neck, hair falling into his eyes. "Fine. Are you hurt?"
"No, I— " You stopped. Looked around. "Wait."
You weren't standing in the ruins anymore. You were standing on a balcony with black wrought iron railing and a view of city streets that looked oddly familiar.
"Is this our building?" You turned in a slow circle, "Xavier, did you just teleport us home?"
"I didn't teleport us anywhere."
"You definitely did something..."
"I didn't" He was already moving past you toward the railing, scanning it like it might answer a question you hadn't asked yet.
"Okay, well, something got us here," you said, following him. "So if it wasn't you, what was it?"
He didn't answer right away. He crouched by one of the plants, fingers brushing the soil. Damp. Recently turned. "I don't have an explanation for this."
"When did you get so many plants?."
He moved to a small table near, where two mugs sat, both used, one rimmed faintly with lipstick.
"This is kind of freaking me out."
You spotted a newspaper folded beside the mugs and reached for it before he could stop you.
The date on the header didn't make sense. You read it twice.
"Xavier." You held it out to him, throat tight.
He took it, scanning it fast, and for the first time all night something like real alarm broke through his usual calm. "This is two years out."
"Two years." You said it slow, testing the weight of it. "Okay. We're just —somewhere else. Somewhere with your exact view, which is a really specific coincidence, but fine, sure, this is wrong, so so wrong—"
"Calm down."
"Xavier."
"What."
You pointed, wordless, toward the far corner of the balcony, where a lumpy, badly painted bird feeder hung crooked from its hook, one wing chipped clean off. You'd have known it anywhere.
"That's Fatso"s" you said.
Xavier followed your finger, and whatever he'd been telling himself died on his face.
You grabbed for your communicator on reflex. Dead screen. "No signal," you said, more to yourself than to him.
"Mine's the same. Clock's not even holding steady." He pocketed the device "We need to see what's inside. If someone's living here, we ask them what year it is."
"Oh yeah because that is a completely normal question to walk in and ask a stranger."
"Stay behind me," he reached for the handle on the sliding glass door, testing the weight of it without committing to opening it yet. Behind the curtain, something moved.
You froze. Your fingers found the sleeve of his uniform and held on.
A hand pressed flat against the glass from the other side of the curtain, fingers spread.
Xavier looked ready to run.
A second hand appeared beside it. Bigger. Scarred across the knuckles. Something in your chest went cold with recognition even before your brain caught up. The second hand moved to close over the first, fingers lacing through.
There were two people on the other side of that door. And from the way the curtain was moving, they were not just standing there.
"Xavier," you whispered, barely any air behind it at all.
He didn't answer. He didn't move his hand off the door either —just stood there frozen, staring at those hands through the glass like his whole nervous system had collapsed.
Then he moved. His hand closed around your shoulder and pulled, one smooth backward motion that tucked you both into a narrow space where the balcony wall met the building's outer brick. The spot was tight —barely enough room for two people to stand without touching —and the angle it gave you was merciless. The glass door sat directly in your line of sight, lit from inside.
You should have looked away immediately.
But you didn't.
The curtains moved a bit. Two bodies, pressed close. The woman's face was hidden, her head tipped back behind the line of the man's shoulder. His face was visible. Hair catching the light. That jaw.
Xavier
The anger came fast and hot and settled behind your sternum like coal. Months of warmth and then distance. Months of patience that felt like it was always just about to become something and never did —and here was the answer to all of it, pressed against a glass door in an apartment that was still his, two years from now, with someone else.
He was kissing her the way someone kisses when they've stopped being careful about it. Deep, his hands dragging her back against him, the movements of his lower body slow and unmistakable.
You looked away. Focused on a crack running through the middle of the wall beside you. Breathed through your nose.
Beside you, Xavier was still looking. His face was flushed.
"Is that—" His voice came out wrong.
"Yup," you said. The bitterness in it sharper than you'd intended. "That's you"
A sound came through the glass.
The impact of skin against the glass door followed immediately by a broken moan, the sound dragged your eyes back to the glass door against your will.
The curtain had been pulled aside all the way.
The view was now unobstructed.
The woman was pressed flat against the glass, her bare breasts against the cold pane, her hands finding the frame for something to hold onto. Her face was fully visible now.
The anger in your chest went out like a light.
It was your face.
Your shoulders, your hands, the sound of your own voice coming through the glass in pieces, breathless and nothing like anything you'd heard from yourself before. Your future self's cheek was pressed to the glass too, eyes half closed, lips parted around sounds that weren't words.
Future Xavier's teeth found her shoulder and bit down, not gently, leaving something that would be visible tomorrow. His hand came around the front of her, sliding between her thighs to line his beautiful cock against her entrance.
Then he drove forward.
The sound she made came through the glass loud and clear and a small involuntary noise started building in your own throat.
Xavier's palm came over your mouth.
Fast. Firm. His fingers sealing the sound in before it could escape. His hand was shaking.
The glass door shook with the next impact. And the next.
Xavier had his mouth at her ear saying something you couldn't hear through the glass but could read in the way her expression changed when he said it.
Xavier made half a sound against the back of your head and he immediately swallowed the other half.
You felt it anyway. Felt the way his arm tightened across your chest, felt the unsteady rhythm of his breathing where his chest pressed into your back.
You couldn't look away from his face —the future version of the face that was currently breathing against your temple— wearing an expression you'd never seen on him before.
"Xavier," you said, against his palm. Muffled.
His arm tightened.
"Xavier." Louder this time, enough that he could feel the shape of his name against his hand.
His mouth dropped to your ear "Don't move." The words came out rough "If they see us—"
Inside the apartment, your future self pressed her palm hard against her lips.
Future Xavier's hand closed around her wrist.
He pulled it down. He held her hand at her side and kept it there, and when she turned her face toward him he was already looking at her.
He wanted to hear her.
Below you a glass door scraped open.
One floor down, a man stepped out onto his balcony. Cigarette unlit between his fingers, head tilted slightly, listening to the night.
You pressed further into the shadow.
The rhythm inside the apartment changed. Not slower. The opposite. The glass shook in its frame and the sounds coming through it stopped being something that could be mistaken for anything else, and the man one floor down stopped trying to light his cigarette.
You looked at future Xavier's face.
His eyes were angled down and to the left.
He picked up the pace.
She tried again, her hand came up toward her mouth. Future Xavier caught her wrist without looking and his mouth moved against her ear again.
Whatever it was, she stopped trying to be quiet.
You thought about what you'd just watched him do. The escalation. The man on the balcony below. The reason your future self's hand kept getting pulled back down.
Was he jealous of that stranger?
Inside, her feet left the ground. Xavier had both arms around her, her arms caught under his, breast bouncing with every thrust.
You saw it first.
An unmistakable pressure beneath the surface of her stomach. Moving with every thrust. A belly bulge.
Your mouth went dry.
She was dripping. You could see it even through the glass —the inside of her thighs slick and glistening where his movements had worked everything down, coating her skin, catching the apartment light every time he pulled back. The glass had a faint fog to it from her breath, small clouds appearing and disappearing with each exhale.
The deep flush running from her chest to her throat made something in your lower stomach pull tight.
The Xavier beside you tracked every place her body responded to him, her hardened nipples, the way her toes curled against nothing, the flutter beneath her skin that mapped exactly where he was.
Crash
A flower pot.
It hit the floor and you both stopped breathing.
Inside the apartment, silence.
Immediate and total.
Through the glass you watched future Xavier's head come up. No panic in it. No confusion. Just a slow turn toward the sound, his eyes moving through the dark until they found the spot where the two of you were standing.
He couldn't see you. The angle was wrong, the shadow too deep.
He knew someone was there anyway.
His expression went cold and your future self said something against his chest. The curtain moved slowly across the glass from inside and the light behind it went out.
You had thirty seconds. Maybe less.
Xavier crouched beside you. The Protocore looked small against his palm, throwing a faint white pulse between his fingers for just a second.
The glass door began to slide open.
The air changed, the balcony, the broken pot, the man with his unlit cigarette, all of it collapsing into white noise and rushing dark.
You hit the ground hard. Your knees met broken stone, the air was knocked out of you on impact and you spent the first few seconds just existing on the ground.
Xavier landed beside you.
You pushed yourself up to sitting. "So..."
Xavier said nothing.
"That was weird."
Still nothing.
"We were—"
"I saw it" he opened his hand and noticed the Protocore was gone "I was standing right next to you."
"So we're both aware of what we watched."
"Yes."
"And we're not going to talk about it?"
He looked at you. "Are you going to be able to not talk about it?"
"Probably not."
He made a sound that wasn't quite a sigh, stood up and offered you a hand. You took it and he pulled you to your feet and didn't immediately let go.
"That man on the balcony," you said.
Xavier's jaw moved. "What about him."
"Future you saw him and then—"
"I know what he did." He dropped your hand. Turned to look at anything that wasn't your face. "You don't need to walk me through it."
"I'm just—" You pressed your lips together, trying very hard not to smile, it felt inappropriate and also completely unavoidable "Was he showing off?"
"We're not talking about that."
"Xavier—"
"Not yet." He said it quietly. Just a line in the ground, clearly drawn. "Not tonight. There's—" He exhaled. "There's a lot I need to sit with before I talk about any of it."
You nodded. That felt fair.
You started walking, picking your way back through the rubble toward the gap in the wall where you'd come in, and Xavier fell into step beside you like he always did —slightly behind, slightly to your left, a position that meant he could see everything around you before you could.
The walk back was quiet. You were almost at the gap in the wall when he spoke.
"Can I ask you something."
"Go ahead."
He was quiet for a beat. Just long enough that you glanced over at him.
"Future me?" he said. "Or me?"
You stopped walking. "What?"
"You heard me. Who do you like more?
"Xavier, that's not—you are the same person—"
"Future me is two years ahead and has information I don't have and he was doing—" a small pause, "—things to you that I have not yet done. So. Future me or me?"
You stared at him.
He stared back.
"That is the most ridiculous question you've ever asked me"
"Humor me."
"You"
Something in his face changed.
"Good," he said.
"But future you did have his—"
The not quite smile disappeared. "We're going home," he said, and turned toward the gap in the wall.
You followed him, and you were very glad he was walking ahead of you this time because the smile on your face was not something you were ready to explain.
Probably the ovulation talking here but I need Caleb to finally get fed up one day of me being a brat (Even though it's literally his fault? Hello??) And just put me through the mattress.
Stroke game so lethal it truly feels like I'm feeling that shit at least a week after. Sheets a mess. Don't know which way is up or down. Absolutely need inappropriate use of Evol here too 😌
Listen I'm tryna be Head Empty, Holes Not here 😌
Thanks for coming to my Goon Ted Talks 😌🤣🍎 K bye 🏃🏾♀️🏃🏾♀️🏃🏾♀️
at the start of the relationship, valko would be the type to accidentally knot you, then continue to do it every time after that bc he's obsessed with your reaction from the first time. he also the type to cum a lot, like a flood. and it's thick, too. he absolutely nuzzles you after he knots you too, just burrowing into you and pressing himself flush to your body. he 100% has a size kink too, and when you say anything related to how big he is, he's popping a knot right then and there. he bounces you on his dick when you get tired and collapse into his chest. OH and he absolutely wants you to scratch and bite all over; his neck, biceps, back, shoulders, and anywhere else your nails and teeth can reach.
NERD! ZAYNE TEACHING THE GUYS HIW TO MAKE YOU CUM, SQUIRT AND OTHER TRICKS part 5.
Part 1 here Part 2 here Part 3 here Part 4 here
CW: Smut. Oral. P in v. Dirty talk. Jealousy. 🔞MDNI🔞
Your thighs still ached from Wednesday. Thursday you'd walked across campus with your hip cocked wrong, teeth gritted, praying nobody would ask why you were limping. You took the long way to your first class just to avoid the stairs. That took effort. Hiding from Caleb took more.
A week of it now. A week of catching sight of him near the library or across campus and ducking behind whatever was closest. A pillar. A food truck. A cluster of strangers you pretended to know. Once you'd hidden in a bathroom for eleven minutes waiting for him to clear the hallway.
Today was Saturday. Simone's birthday, the one you'd been planning with her for two weeks, color coded playlist and all.
You knew who'd show and who wouldn't. Zayne never came to anything with more than five people in a room; he'd send a gift and a text. Sylus would be there past midnight like the party had been waiting on him, which, in fairness, it usually was. Rafayel was still out of town and Xavier —Xavier had walked you to class yesterday and mentioned that he had a test to study for.
He hadn't brought up Wednesday. Hadn't asked for a repeat. He seemed happy just walking beside you in silence, matching his pace to yours, and that was enough. You were relieved because your thighs couldn't take another round like that. He'd made you cum more times than you could count and you'd blacked out before his second orgasm. You woke up to him wiping you down with a warm cloth, humming something under his breath.
And still. You missed Caleb.
He was the only friend who'd been there since high school, back when he felt like a brother —carrying your backpack when your arm was in a cast, threatening a guy who stood you up sophomore year. Then something shifted senior year, some line neither of you named, and it took root over the summer before college and never let go. He hadn't texted you all week. Not once. Not even a meme, not even the thumbs up emoji he used when he couldn't be bothered to type words. That had never happened before, not even the semester he broke his wrist and had to write messages one finger at a time.
You got to Simone's early to set everything up. Gideon showed up a couple of hours later hauling two bags of ice against his hip and Caleb wasn't with him. That was wrong on its own. Those two attended every party together.
"He's coming," Gideon said, before you'd even asked. "Said he had something to take care of."
The party filled up fast after that, someone's playlist too heavy on bass. You stayed near the kitchen with a cup you angled just right so you could watch the door without looking like you were watching it. By the second hour your stomach had knotted itself tight enough that you'd stopped tasting your drink.
Then he walked in.
Not alone. A girl had her hand curled around his arm, up on her toes to say something against his ear, dark hair falling over her shoulder as she leaned in. He laughed at whatever she said, that laugh you'd have recognized anywhere, head tipping back just slightly.
You didn't stay to see if he'd notice you. Cup abandoned on the counter, bag already in hand, the last thing you saw before you were out the back door was him still bent toward her, listening and laughing.
It was cold outside. Colder by the time you'd cut halfway across campus, arms wrapped around yourself, and ran into Greyson. One of Zayne's friends from pre med, someone you'd shared a class with and one very unfortunate group project. He took one look at you shivering in your thin top and shrugged his jacket off without asking.
"Here. You'll freeze before you make it back to your dorm"
"I'm fine," you said, already pulling it on.
He laughed and fell into step beside you anyway, talking about an anatomy exam he was dreading and his girlfriend's alarming obsession with plushies. Easy conversation that didn't ask anything of you, that let you nod and half listen while your mind kept circling back to the door, to the laugh, to the girl's hand on his arm.
At your door he said goodnight and jogged off toward his building as you went inside to let the quiet close over you.
You tossed the jacket over your desk chair and started peeling off your shoes when your hand brushed something hard in the pocket. Keys. You fished them out, it was a single silver one on a carabiner with a chewed up rubber duck keychain.
Not even ten minutes later, someone knocked.
You smiled, already reaching for the keys on your desk. Of course he'd come back for them. You scooped them up, grabbed his jacket and draped it over your arm and pulled the door open, keys dangling from your fingers before you'd even looked up.
"A bit soon to be giving me the keys to your place, don't you thi—?" it was meant to be a joke.
Caleb stood in the hallway, hands shoved in his pockets. His eyes went from the keys swinging from your hand to the jacket slung over your arm, and back again. Whatever smile he'd walked up with was already gone.
"Whose is that?"
His voice had lost the party in it. Gone was the easy tone, replaced by something flat that landed somewhere in your belly.
You knew that tone. Dug in. Stubborn. It was the same voice he used when men tried to put their hands on you. You'd forgotten what that sounded like until now.
Something reckless flared up under your nerves. Days of avoiding him and now he was standing in your doorway looking at you like that. You leaned your shoulder into the frame, unhurried.
"Just a friend's," you said, letting the jacket slip a little on your arm so he'd notice how big it was. "He walked me back from the party. It was cold."
"A friend."
"Mm-hmm." You tilted your head, biting back a smile you didn't try very hard to hide. "Nice guy. Gave me his jacket without me even asking."
"Did he?"
"He did." You shrugged, one shoulder, watching the muscle in his jaw tighten. "Very sweet, actually. I might keep it."
Caleb moved, one step, closing half the distance between you, and you found yourself backing up without deciding to.
"What's his name."
"Why does it matter?"
"I just want his name."
"Jealous?" The word came out lighter than you felt. You tipped your chin up, daring him.
His eyes narrowed. "Should I be?"
You didn't answer. You just held his gaze, arms crossed loosely, jacket bunched against your ribs, and let the silence do the talking. You'd meant it as a tease. It landed like a confession.
Caleb's hand caught the door before you could think to close it, and stepped over the threshold like he had every right to be there. The door closed behind him with a heavy sound that cut off the hallway light and the cold.
"You've been running from me all week," he said.
"I haven't—"
"Don't." One word, quiet, and it stopped you cold. "I saw you by the food truck Tuesday. Wednesday you turned around and walked into a building you don't even have class in. Today you bolted out the back door the second I walked through the front." He took another step. You were nearly at your desk now, nowhere left to go. "So don't tell me you haven't been running."
Your ass met the edge of the desk. He didn't stop until there was almost nothing between you, close enough that you caught the cold night air still clinging to him, and under it, the same warm cedar smell you'd have known blindfolded.
"Maybe I like it when you chase me," you said, the teasing thinner than you wanted it to sound.
Something shifted in his face. "Yeah?"
"Maybe."
He leaned in, slow, until his mouth hovered a breath from yours, close enough that if either of you moved even slightly you wouldn't be able to help it. Your heart was beating hard against your ribs.
"Say that again," he murmured.
You didn't say anything at all.
"Maybe I should go find him, thank him properly for lending you his jacket."
"Caleb—"
"What's his name?" A ghost of a smirk, infuriating. His nose brushed yours, and you nearly closed the gap yourself before he pulled back a fraction, just out of reach.
"You're impossible."
"You like impossible." He tilted his head, closing in again, slower this time, until his lips almost grazed yours and then he stopped there too, breath warm against your mouth, watching you through half lowered lashes. "Tell me to stop."
"Stop," you whispered, and it came out all wrong, breathless instead of firm.
"Try again." He was smiling now, a smile that didn't reach his eyes so much as darken them. "Say it like you mean it." he pulled back again, like he had all the time in the world and you had none.
Your fingers curled into the front of his shirt "You're doing this on purpose."
"Obviously."
He came in again, and this time you swore his mouth grazed yours, barely, gone before you could be sure it happened at all. A soft, frustrated sound climbed up your throat.
"Caleb."
"Yeah?" he still hovered there, he needed you to break first.
Fisting his shirt, you hauled him down and crashed your mouth into his.
He groaned like you'd finally given him something he'd been starving for, one hand sliding into your hair, the other gripping your waist and pulling you flush against him. The jacket dropped from your fingers, forgotten on the floor. He kissed you like the last few days had been sitting in his chest the whole time, like the wait had worn through whatever control he'd been holding onto.
He walked you backward until your knees hit the mattress, and when you sat down hard he followed you down "No more running," he said against your jaw "Not from me."
Your fingers shook, but the urgency in your chest didn't leave room for nerves to win. You caught the hem of his shirt and pulled it up his torso, and he lifted his arms without being asked, letting you drag it off and drop it behind you. You slid your hands down to his belt and he took over from there, working it loose himself, shoving his jeans down with one impatient kick until he was standing in nothing but his underwear.
The fabric strained. The thick outline of his cock was impossible to miss.
You didn't mean to stare and he didn't give you time to. He leaned over you, pulling your top over your head in one motion, and his hands went around your back a second later, unhooking your bra like he'd done it a hundred times in his head already. The marks Rafayel had left were still faintly there. You didn't notice him catch sight of them, you were too busy working your jeans down, kicking them off.
The room's light hit the bruises on your inner thighs.
Caleb went still. His breathing turned loud and something crossed his face you'd never seen on him before, not once in all the years you'd known him.
"Who?"
It wasn't even a full question. You couldn't answer it. You couldn't even lift your eyes to his, heat crawling up your neck, half shame, half something closer to fear.
His hand found your jaw, careful even now, but firm enough that you couldn't look away from him.
"I'll find out either way"
You said nothing. Your mouth stayed shut, lips pressed together, and he pulled back like he meant to walk away from the whole thing. Panic shot through you and you grabbed his forearm, held on.
"It wasn't a stranger," you whispered.
"Then who."
He was already working through it, you could see him doing it, running through the short list of people close enough to you that this made sense. He didn't need the full story. He just needed a name.
"Rafayel," you said, and then, because there was no version of this where you got to leave it there, "and Xavier."
The color left his face. "At the same time?"
"No." You shook your head fast. "No, it wasn't like that..."
That was as far as you got before he pulled his arm free and stepped back from the bed like it had burned him.
He didn't look at you. He started pacing between your desk and the window, one hand dragging through his hair over and over, like he could pull the thought straight out of his own skull.
"Rafayel," he muttered, more to the wall than to you. "Of course. Probably had you half convinced it meant something, didn't he?" A short breath, no humor in it at all. "And Xavier." He said the name like it left a bad taste. "Quiet Xavier. Too tired for a party, but not tired enough for that."
He stopped at the window, both hands braced on the sill, shoulders locked up tight. For a second he just breathed.
"I gave you space," he said, quieter now, and the quiet was worse than the pacing had been. "After Zayne's, I backed off. Thought you needed space. Figured if I pushed, you'd run, so I didn't." He turned around, and the storm on his face had gone raw underneath. "And they didn't. They just moved into the space I left. Used it."
"Caleb, that's not fair, they didn't—"
"Didn't what?" his jaw ticked. "Know you were vulnerable right after? Because I think they knew exactly what they were doing." He crossed the room until he was close enough that you had to tip your head back to keep his eyes. "Did either of them ask what you wanted? Or did they just take what you were too shaken to say no to?"
"It wasn't like that."
"Then tell me what it was like." He crouched slightly, hands braced on the mattress on either side of you, caging you in without touching you "Because I waited. I told myself slow was better than not at all." His eyes dropped to the marks on your thighs and back up, something dark moving behind them. "They didn't wait for anything."
You fingers curled around his wrist "You're the one standing in my room right now."
Something flickered across his face —not a smile, too sharp for that, but close to one. "Yeah," he said. "I am."
His fury was still there, sitting in his jaw and his hands but his touch when it landed wasn't rough. It was heavy.
He didn't look for unmarked skin.
He went straight for what they'd left behind.
His mouth found your chest first, closing over the fading marks Rafayel had put there, and he sucked —slow and thorough— his tongue working until the skin flushed dark underneath his lips. His. Over the top of someone else's, but his now. When he was done he moved down, his thumbs pressing into the bruises on your inner thighs, pinning your legs open while his mouth found the soft flesh there and bit down soft enough not to hurt but hard enough to mark.
"Mine," he said, against your skin. "Every single one. By morning."
His fingers hooked into the leg bands of your underwear, pulling the fabric taut against you. "Your pretty pussy is already soaking through these."
He didn't take them off.
He dragged his tongue up the center seam instead, one slow stroke, and the friction of it through the soaked fabric hit your clit with a sharpness that snapped your hips off the mattress. He caught you, both hands pressing your hips back down, and then his mouth was on you again, lips closing around the swollen bud through the thin wet cotton, sucking in slow pulls that made your vision blur at the edges.
"I should have been first," he said, against the fabric, his voice vibrating through it and into you. The pressure of his lips didn't let up for a second while he talked. "I'm going to spend a long time thinking about that. How I had years and I waited and now I have to share something that should have been mine from the start."
The build was fast, mean and gave you no warning. You came with your fingers twisted in his hair and his name in your throat, soaking through the fabric completely.
He watched you, gave you approximately three seconds.
Then he pulled your underwear down your legs, dropped them off the side of the bed and his mouth was back before you'd finished shaking — bare now, his tongue flat and heavy against you, licking with an attention to detail that made your spine curl. He used two fingers to spread you open, his tongue pressing into your entrance, drawing back up to your clit.
"When I'm inside your mouth," his breath felt warm against your wet skin "I'm going to make you taste what you do to me." He kept going until you came a second time. This one was quieter and left you with tears leaking from the corners of your eyes, his name coming out in pieces.
He gave you a moment. Not a long one. Just enough to take his underwear off and then his hands grabbed your hips, lifting you slightly off the mattress, guiding himself to your entrance. He pushed inside — just the crown and the first two inches — and stopped there.
The sound you made was filthy.
It was everything you had imagined. The stretch, the fullness, the weight of him just sitting there while your body tried to accommodate it and couldn't decide between pulling him in and pushing him out. He stayed there until your mind went blank and your hands found the sheets and gripped. Then he pulled out.
The emptiness was felt awful.
He shifted up the mattress and settled on his knees in front of your face, fully hard, the evidence of the last few minutes glistening on his skin, and looked down at you.
"Tell me when to stop and I'll stop."
"Don't stop." Your voice had no strength left in it. Just the words, barely above a whisper.
"Open your mouth when I tell you to."
His thumb came down to your lower lip, pressing into the center of it, pulling it slightly down. He watched your mouth part under the pressure "Do you want me inside your pretty mouth?"
"Yes."
He leaned in just enough. Dragged the tip across your upper lip, leaving a hot wet streak against your skin, watching your face while he did it.
"Say it."
Your hands came up to grip his thighs, fingers pressing into the muscle there. "I want to suck your dick."
The exhale that left him wasn't quiet. "Good girl."
He took his time, dragging the head of his cock across your lips, down your cheek and back to your mouth, leaving a trail of pre across your skin that made something in your chest clench with how much you wanted it.
You kept your eyes on his the entire time. You wanted him to see how much you wanted this.
"Open up, sweet girl"
His cock came back to rest against your lips and your mouth opened wider on instinct, the whole talk flashed through Caleb's head in the same second —Zayne's voice, clipped and deeply irritating.
She isn't built like you. Don't push inside when she isn't ready or you'll hurt her throat. She has to breathe through her nose. Don't fight her jaw. Let her drool on it as much as she can, you'll thank me later. It needs to be slow. If you rush it, you hurt her.
His knuckles had gone white against the mattress. He slowed down.
Pressed inside carefully, just the tip, feeling your lips wrap around him and your breath change as your body adjusted. He stopped there. Watched your eyes. Waited for the slight shift in your expression that meant you were ready before he went any further.
"That's it," he managed, his voice mostly gone. "Breathe through your nose. Take your time."
You did. Your hands wrapped around the base, thumbs tracing the veins there while you let the saliva build and run, coating him in a way that made the slide easier and the visual of it more overwhelming than anything else that had happened tonight. You started to move, slow forward bobs that took him a little deeper each time, your tongue working the underside on the draw back.
Caleb made a sound above you that had nothing controlled left in it.
He matched the pace —hips rolling forward in shallow, careful thrusts that tested the back of your throat, a hand in your hair gripping without pulling, his whole body wound up and trembling slightly with the effort of not taking what he wanted at the speed he wanted it.
"You're so—" He stopped, jaw tight, trying again. "Suck it harder. Taste yourself on me. You can feel it, can't you."
You could.
You sucked harder, felt his thighs tense under your hands, felt the groan that moved through his whole body when your lips slid all the way down and your nose pressed into him and you held it there, looking up at his face.
The sight was doing something to him.
Your mouth stretched around him, eyes wet at the corners, saliva running down your chin and onto your chest in slow trails, and you were looking up at him. That was the part that was killing him. You were not looking away, not closing your eyes. You were loking directly at him with a ruined stare while you took him apart with your mouth, and every time he thought he had some grip on his composure you'd do something with your tongue and it was gone again.
He wanted to grip your hair and drive forward and lose his mind entirely.
Not yet. He held still. Let you set the pace. Let your mouth work him at the speed you'd decided on.
"God," he breathed, his head dropping back for a second before he forced it back down because he couldn't look away from you. "I've thought about this. Exactly this. More times than you can imagine."
The tears running from the corners of your eyes weren't distress. He knew the difference. Your hands were firm and steady on his thighs and every time you pushed forward to take him deeper there was a small sound in your throat that sent a pulse straight up his spine.
"That's it, just like that. Keep going just like that and don't stop."
You swallowed around him in response. His hips snapped forward an inch before he caught himself.
You noticed. Your eyes said so.
He pressed his thumb to the corner of your mouth, feeling the stretch of your lips around him. "You're so good at this," he said, the words coming out unsteady. "So fucking good. Look at you taking all of it. Other girls—"
He'd said it without thinking, his brain running three seconds behind his mouth, and he felt the exact moment it landed because your rhythm changed.
Faster.
Your eyes had gone somewhere else —still on his face, but different now, something sharp moving through them that had nothing to do with what you'd been doing a second ago. Your hands tightened on his thighs. Your mouth pushed forward, taking him deeper than you had been, the angle shifting in a way that made his breath leave him all at once.
"Wait—" he started.
You hummed. It wasn't accidental. A low vibration right around the tip of his cock, your throat working, your cheeks hollowed, and whatever sentence he'd been constructing about other girls dissolved completely because his brain stopped producing language.
"I didn't—" He tried again. Failed again. Your head was moving faster now "That's not what I —, I wasn't—"
You hummed again, deeper this time, and took him further.
"Okay. Okay. There are no other girls. There have not been — in any meaningful way — other girls. You are the only girl. You are the only—" His thighs were shaking. "Please, you have to—if you keep doing that I'm going to—"
You didn't stop doing that.
Your hands moved to grip his ass, pulling him forward, inviting a depth that made his whole body seize up.
"You're—" he looked down at you with an expression that was completely gone for you. "You're jealous and you're doing this on purpose and it's working. You've made your point."
You hummed a third time. Longer. Right over the most sensitive part of him. Your eyes were saying everything your mouth was otherwise occupied with.
The sound that came out of him was not quiet. He didn't have time to pull back. He didn't even try.
He came hard, the first pulse hitting the back of your throat without warning, and he felt you swallow — fast and determined— and then the next wave and the next, each one heavier, the volume of it backing up past your lips and running down your chin, dripping onto your chest.
You were watching him fall apart and made sure he knew you were watching.
His thighs were shaking and he was coming back slowly, the room reassembling itself around the two of you.
He looked down at you.
Lips swollen, chin a complete mess, eyes bright and entirely satisfied with yourself.
He reached down and dragged his thumb slowly across your lower lip.
"Other girls do not exist. As far as I'm concerned, going forward, they never did."
Something in your expression shifted. The jealous edge softening into something warmer.
"Good," you said, and your voice was ruined too, something he found extraordinarily satisfying.
He brought his thumb to your lip. "Open."
You opened. He pressed inside, watched you close your lips around it, watched you hold his gaze while you tasted what was on it.
He pulled his thumb back.
"You're going to be the death of me," he said. Just a fact. A fact he was making peace with.
He brought his mouth to yours. Tasting everything, not flinching from any of it.
When he pulled back his forehead dropped to yours "I'm not done," he said, into the space between your faces.
"I know," you said.
"I want to do this right." His hands cupped your face, thumbs brushing your cheekbones, "I've been waiting too long to rush it."
Years. Easy laughter. Carefully maintained distance. Him looking at you the whole time with that steady certain gaze that you'd been pretending not to understand.
"Then don't"
He kissed you again. Softer this time. And then he laid you back against the mattress and took his time.
-----------------------------------18+ ONLY --------------------------------------
“ Fu..uck..y..yall please slow down ….Rafayel…C..Caleb…oooo” I whimpered out as they both lay in between my legs as they both feast on my clit. They looking up at me their eyes glistening. They whining loudly as they swirl their tongues in and out of my clit both rubbing against each other tongues as more of my juices leak from my already over-sensitive clit. It is coating the bottom half of their faces as the hold my thighs apart like a full split. I whine loudly as they both suck, my legs shaking feeling that rush that will overtake me anytime now.
“ Look at how pretty she looks…ooh cutie it seems close. my beloved…” They both murmured against my mound as I arched into their mouths as i let out the loudest whine as i begin to squirt into their waiting mouths. Their groans had me clenching around their tongues that still buried in me. After a while, they shuffled leaving a trail of their combines saliva and my juices letting me catch my soul i know left my body for a moment. When i finally came back to earth, I see them pressed together, their tongues down one another throats sharing the taste of me. They both are whimpering into each other mouth, their faces flushed as they hold each other faces fighting for dominance, Neither winning or losing . Rafayel moved back from Caleb saliva trail evident between their mouths.
“She tastes so good…” Rafayel murmured against Caleb’s mouth. They chuckled in return seeing me completely enthralled from their exploration deciding to give me a show. My body heats up watching them wrap their hands around each other dicks stroking each other as as they kissed again moaning. Pre-cum slicking their hands as they groan loudly. I whine loudly wanting to join in on the fun.
“ Come here princess…suck us off.” Caleb commanded softly watching me crawl on top of the messy silk sheets. I lay on my tummy my mouth wide open tongue out to let Caleb place his dick on my waiting tongue as Rafayel moves my locs from my face. I moan as he goes deep in my throat as Rafayel holds my hair refraining me from moving my head to much. This allowing Caleb to use my mouth letting it be messy. Drool leaving my mouth as i catch my breath for a moment to only have Rafayel slipped through my lips gagging me as well. I look at them, feeling my eyes teary as i gather my breath as rafayel backs away. He slaps his dick on my tongue chuckling at the look i have on my face.
“ There you are pretty girl..you love when do this for you…love being shared between us cutie.”
(Note: these are just my own HC as I clutch onto all the hopium I can get 🙃)
-I feel like he's obviously obsessed with your scent, but especially when you're aroused and MOST DEFINITELY when you're ovulating (go ahead and let work know you gonna be out for A WHILE💅🏾)
-He knows it turns you on when he does the growl thing, so he always does it at the worst times because he thinks it's cute when you get flustered
-Don't ask how many times the occasional trip to the lab to bring him lunch ended with you bent over the table and fucked within an inch of your life cause he missed you so much😌
-Also don't ask how many pairs of panties he's accidentally shredded with his claws because he was too excited(don't worry he always replaces them🤭)
-How many of your used panties does he have stashed? The limit does not exist 😌
-He is an absolute muncher and he aint ashamed about it cause it's where your scent is the strongest. (He had a bad day at work? Munch. You got that promotion at work you were working hard towards? Munch. You yelling at him cause he clawed up your pillow cause he was in a rut while you were gone? Munching till you forget that words are even a thing anymore 😌)
-He absolutely has a size kink and loves to watch the bulge he makes when he's wrecking you.
-Makes it his personal goal to see how many times he can make you cum before he even thinks about reaching his own release. (His top score so far is 6 but he's a little bit of an over-achiever😉)
-His fav hobbies include long walks with you, cuddling with you, slutting you out so bad the only name you know is his, filling you up with more cum than you thought was humanly possible all before he knots you and cuddles you to sleep with it still inside 😌
Warnings: Archfiend Sylus x Werewolf Valko, dirty talk, anal fingering, belly bulge/cum inflation, switch!sylus, switch!valko, bottom!sylus, bottom!valko, praise kink, knotting, scenting, fingers in mouth/finger sucking, ass to mouth, spit as lube, hair-pulling, ass slapping, doggystyle, reverse cowgirl, biting, TW: mild blood, outdoor sex, bickering, multiple orgasms
This is a requested gift for my wifey @thicckage. I hope you like it and enjoy!😚
Word count: 4K
Dividers by @saradika-graphics
The full white moon hung high in the darkness of the night as Valko raced through the dense forest, his heavy paws thudding loudly against the earth grounds and kicking up dirt as he went. His golden eyes were locked on a specific target, a target that was currently weaving effortlessly through the trees with a deep, echoing chuckle.
Sylus turned his head back to see that Valko was nearly on his tail and he smirked as he flapped his wings to dart himself up into the sky. “For a werewolf, you're pretty slow, pup,” Sylus gloated as he looked down at Valko, who was panting heavily as he stared up at Sylus with narrowed eyes, his fanged teeth bared as he let out a low growl.
Sylus chuckled again as he flapped his wings to lower himself down so he was eye level with his lover, his fangs gleaming under the moonlight as his smirk widened. “If you can catch me, you can do whatever you like to me. However, if you can't, then I can do whatever I want to you. Do we have a deal?”
Valko huffed through his nose as he dug his claws into the dirt, his eyes never leaving Sylus’s as he tilted his head, as if accepting the challenge. Sylus stared back, the thrill and adrenaline during this little chase still pumped through his veins before he took off through the woods again in one big swoosh that was strong enough to jostle the trees.
Valko growled as he chased after Sylus again. Valko enjoyed the hunt. He enjoyed the adrenaline it gave him whenever he and Sylus played like this, despite the differences they should have against each other.
Neither he or Sylus has ever cared about the stereotypical stories that have been told to them since they were young. How vampires and werewolves were forever enemies, one species is more dangerous than the other and vice versa, and that having a relationship is strictly forbidden between them both as they're too territorial and it would cause too many unresolved issues.
When Valko first encountered Sylus, he was being chased by angry vampire hunters when he accidentally stepped into their territory without realizing it. Then everything happened in a blur. The last thing he remembered was the screams of the hunters as their bodies were being crushed and snapped before exploding into a black and red mist, the particles floating towards him like mini red dragonflies.
Valko watched the whole exchange with wide eyes, his heart racing for a different reason other than fear as the towering, unknown figure slowly turned to look at him, its long silver hair flowing from behind as it walked towards him slowly, its steps echoing against the concrete. Once the face of his savior was shown, thanks to the lighting of the moon, Valko felt all of his air escape him at once.
Valko has never seen someone as beautiful as the man in front of him, who was covered in long, finely made red and gold clothing that looked to have been made and customized by the rich.
“Are you alright?” The figure asked him and Valko was taken aback by how alluring and deep the voice was. It was almost like a deep purr that settled low into his belly and spread warmth throughout his entire being. It took him a second to respond and he nodded his head silently as his ears twitched above his head, not trusting himself to speak.
“Hm. Good.” The unknown man smirked, showing off his own set of fangs as he spread his wings wide enough to shadow him and Valko as he held his staff in one hand before he flew up into the sky and away, and that's when Valko realized that this wasn't just no ordinary vampire, but a way more powerful one that he didn't believe could exist.
An Archfiend from another world. The Underworld, to be more specific.
Ever since then, Valko has done his research when he went into his lab the following day. He found out that the powerful fiend's name was Sylus and he resided in the Underworld. The only time he ever appears on Velmure was if he was summoned by some type of blood ritual.
He briefly wondered if the other vampires or the mages summoned him just for jokes or to see if the ritual was the real deal, which it turned out to be in the end, unfortunately for them.
Fast forward to a year later after the encounter, the ritual was brought to light again, although Valko told himself he was never going to do such a thing–he did it anyway cause he couldn't stop thinking about the man, sue him–and now here they were playing in the woods while living their life away from all of the judgement and hatred that they knew would come their way.
Him and Sylus simply looked at it as two apex predators trying to survive in the world rather than trying to kill each other like the rest of their kind would've tried to do. Neither of their respectable homes knew about their relationship and they planned to keep it that way.
Valko could tell that Sylus was slowing down on purpose, so he took the opportunity to leap up and playfully tackle Sylus down by using his paws to enclose around the fiend's midsection, making the both of them tumble to the ground and roll in the grass before stopping close by a nearby tree trunk.
Valko rolled over to cover Sylus's body protectively and leaned his head down to start nosing at Sylus's cheek and neck, his nose feeling wet and cold against the skin before his tongue joined the mix.
Sylus laughed as he tried to squirm away from the wet touches, his hands reaching up to push up at Valko's chest before he ended up scratching at him softly. “Okay, pup, that's enough. You caught me.”
Sylus felt when Valko shifted, his fur being replaced with warm, bare skin. Valko's tail swished excitedly as he lifted his head from Sylus's neck and looked down at him, his eyes glowing brightly as his face was shadowed by the dark and the glow of the moon creating a halo around him.
He grinned and leaned down to place a deep kiss on Sylus's lips, which the fiend happily reciprocated, as he situated himself between his lover's legs and planted his hands on either side of Sylus’s head.
“I did, didn't I? Like you said, once I catch you, I can do whatever I want to you. However,” Valko purred against Sylus's lips as he reached one of his hands down between their bodies and placed his palm on Sylus’s already stiffening dick, soaking in the low grunt he emitted as he squeezed and began to rub at the bulge. “I vaguely recall you calling me slow, is that right?”
Sylus gasped quietly as his hips bucked up on their own as Valko continued to palm him, his breathing turning slightly shallow. With a low chuckle, Sylus looked up at him through half-lidded eyes and reached up with one hand to slowly smooth it up the wolf's chest, his bottom lip sucked between his teeth as his fingertips traced Valko's jawline with a featherlight touch.
“I'm not wrong. It looked like you could barely catch up to me, as I am obviously faster than you, but if you can prove me wrong, I'd like to see you try.” Sylus challenged.
Valko raised a brow and matched Sylus's smirk before he raised himself up and hastily maneuvered the fiend onto his hands and knees before he pressed his hand down between Sylus's shoulder blades, making his back go down into a deep arch.
Valko didn't waste another second and used his claws to shred off Sylus's elegant clothes, while also being careful as to not accidentally scratch him. He mentally noted to himself to apologize for it later. “Challenge accepted then,” Valko whispered as he leaned down and used his tongue to trace the outside of Sylus's ear, humming when the other shivered underneath him.
“You should already know by now that I can make you submit to me with no problem, my strong fiend.”
Grabbing ahold of Sylus's bare hips to keep him still, Valko began to press little kisses and nips down his spine before stopping above the crack of his ass.
"Is that so? Because you definitely weren't saying that when I–" Sylus’s retort was cut off with a groan and a flinch of his body as he felt Valko's tongue lap and swirl at his hole.
"You were sayin' somethin'?" Valko teased as he pulled his face back, his claws retracting back as his hands opened Sylus's asscheeks wider. He pursed his lips before opening his mouth to let out a thick dribble of spit. He stared hungrily as his saliva began to roll down towards Sylus's hole, lower towards his taint, and then his heavy balls.
Sylus shivered, his breath catching as he felt Valko's finger circle at his hole for a second before slowly pushing inside; the tight heat of Sylus’s body made the wolf groan and his dick twitch in excitement.
Valko began to thrust his index finger slowly, carefully stretching his lover out before he withdrew and then added his middle. Sylus bit his lip as his eyes rolled back a little, his hips beginning to fuck back on Valko's fingers impatiently as the other began to curl and scissor him open, stretching him open more.
"Pup, hurry up before I get bored over here. You're taking way too long," Sylus huffed, his dick dribbling out dots of precum as his fingers curled into the grass. "If you need help moving things along, I can gladly help you out–"
Before Sylus could finish his sarcastic response, he let out a groan instead as he felt Valko's fingers fist his hair in the back of his head and pull his head back until his back was flush against Valko's chest.
Valko had added his third finger and thrusted all three of them deeper inside of the loosening warmth before curling them up more vigorously, his fingertips brushing over Sylus's prostate made the fiend gasp and try to squirm away from the shock of pleasure that shot up his spine, but Valko kept a firm hold on his hair to keep him from moving.
"You sure love running your mouth while I have my fingers deep inside of you and fucking you open to get you ready to take me, but since you're so greedy for it, don't let me keep you waiting then, baby." Valko whispered into Sylus's ear, his voice a deep rumble as he pulled his fingers out and experimentally undid his cargo pants to push the material down enough to free his throbbing cock; the sound of the loose belt buckle clinking from the action made Sylus's breath hitch.
He foregone wearing underwear because it would've just been in his way and he was all too impatient to finally sink inside of his pretty vamp. Valko pressed the leaking tip against Sylus's hole, his free hand now gripping Sylus's waist. "Deep breath, love."
Sylus sucked in a breath right as Valko pushed inside of him slowly; the both of them letting out groans at being connected close like this. "There we go, baby. Take all nine inches like the good boy we both know you are." Valko praised as he firmly pressed his hips flush against Sylus's ass once he bottomed all the way in.
Sylus shuddered as he was pushed back down and pinned against the grass, his ass arched up high so he was presented to Valko's devouring eyes.
Without any further warning, Valko pulled his hips back before thrusting back inside, causing Sylus to let out a curse and his eyes to roll back again as the wolf began to fuck into him with deep, grinding rolls.
Valko let out an impatient huff and he hiked up his leg on the side of Sylus’s hip, gripped his waist with his claws tight enough to prick his skin and draw out little dots of blood, and wasted no time to pound into Sylus hard and fast; his heavy balls slapping loudly against Sylus's ass.
"Fuck, Val–slow d-down! I can't–ah–oh god–hah–," Sylus gasped out as his back arched down deeper and he twisted his arm back to press it against Valko's stomach, hoping that the wolf would give him some mercy, but all Valko did was just laugh; the sound full of dark amusement and greedy desire as he reached his hand back and slapped Sylus's ass hard, making the fiend jolt and let out another loud moan.
Valko grabbed both of Sylus’s arms by the wrists and held them firmly behind his back with the hand he just slapped Sylus's bouncing ass with and used that as leverage to bring Sylus back against his thrusts as his hips pounded harder, making their skin slap together louder.
"Awww," Valko mockingly cooed as he leaned down to Sylus's ear, buried his face deep into his neck and inhaled Sylus's scent, a deep growl rumbling out of his throat as the knot that started to form at the base of his dick began to swell.
"You can't take all this, my dear fiend? Is my dick too much for you to handle, hm? Am I fuckin' you so damn good you can't even think straight and only these woods can hear the way you're crying out for me?"
The only thing that Sylus could muster out was a choked out noise of Valko's name and a weak, cracked insult of "shut up you dog" before he was letting out a guttural cry as he felt the tip of Valko's dick slam against his swollen prostate, making his whole body sieze up from the white-hot pleasure.
"Yeah, right there, huh?" Valko panted into Sylus's ear as he reached down between Sylus's legs with his other hand and wrapped it around Sylus's cock before starting to stroke him quickly, his thumb pressing against the underside of Sylus's sensitive leaking tip that dripped out multiple strings of precum.
"Come on, pretty boy, cum for me. Cum all over my dick. Let me feel you milk me dry. Give it to me." Valko's voice shifted into a whiny undertone as his knot grew slightly bigger and was pressing against Sylus's ass, now on the verge of popping inside.
Before Sylus could protest or even try to warn his lover, he was cumming hard with a loud moan of Valko's name, his body and legs trembling hard as he painted the earthy ground with his seed. Valko gasped as Sylus's body clamped around him tightly and he raised up to his knees again, his grip on Sylus's wrists tightening as his thrusts started to turn erratic.
"Gonna knot and fill this pretty perfect ass up with my seed and watch the way it leak out of you, baby," Valko hissed as he threw his head back, Sylus's deep yet broken whimpers urging him on and closer towards his own orgasm. "Can't wait to see the way your stomach bulges out after I pump you full–fuck, fuck I'm cumming–shit I'm gonna–"
With a couple more strokes, Valko's knot popped inside right as he came with a high pitched whine and he leaned his head down to bite down on the junction where Sylus's neck and shoulder met hard enough to draw out blood to muffle any other noises he might accidentally slip out.
With a couple more strokes, Valko's knot popped inside right as he came with a high pitched whine and he leaned his head down to bite down on the junction where Sylus's neck and shoulder met hard enough to draw out blood to muffle any other noises he might accidentally slip out.
Sylus groaned from the bite and from the warm feeling of the thick ropes of cum filling him up, making his lower belly distended slightly as Valko kept grinding his hips to keep pumping another load of his his cum into his body.
Valko released Sylus's wrists and carefully maneuvered them onto their sides as his orgasm eventually subsided, leaving only his knot to keep them locked together.
Once the post-orgasmic haze cleared, he noticed the bloody bite mark and marks he left on Sylus's hips and he felt his ears droop back as he licked apologetically at the bite, cleaning it of the blood and using his saliva to prevent it from getting infected.
Sylus chuckled from the gesture and he reached back to scratch at his wolf's head and behind one of his ears. "I'm a vampire, pup, remember? I heal fast anyway, so don't worry about the marks. You know I can handle pain." He reassured as he turned his head back so he could look Valko in the eyes.
Valko hummed from the pets and rubbed against Sylus's hand as he opened his eyes, his face softening as he turned his head to smell at Sylus's wrist. "I know, but still. You know I feel bad sometimes for going too rough on you. After I've thoroughly fucked you dumb, of course."
Sylus let out a huff and flicked Valko on the forehead, who let out a whine before chuckling, his grin all playful and teasing. "I'm just teasin', love. No need to abuse me."
Sylus just rolled his eyes but he couldn't stop the smile from gracing his face. It was a few more minutes that Valko's knot shrunk down enough for him to slowly and carefully slip out, even though Sylus let out a quiet inhale from the stretch it caused on his poor used hole.
Valko didn't a chance to get another word out before his world was flipped around and he was situated on Sylus’s lap, his back now flushed against the fiend as his legs were parted wide due to Sylus's own. He gasped as Sylus held him firmly against him with his arm tight around his stomach and he could feel Sylus's rapidly swelling dick between his asscheeks.
"My turn," Sylus purred against his ear as he held up three of his fingers to Valko's mouth. "Suck on them, sweetheart. Get them nice and wet for me."
Valko let out a needy whine and he could feel the tip of his tail starting to patpatpat against the ground as his own dick began to harden again from his growing arousal.
He parted his lips to suck the digits into the slick heat of his mouth and swirled his tongue around them before he started to bob his head on them eagerly. Sylus growled low in his throat as he watched, his dick twitching in earnest as he pulled his fingers free; the thick string of saliva that connected the tips of his fingers to Valko's lips broke off and landed on the corner of his mouth.
He trailed his soaked fingers slowly down Valko's body and lower towards his base where he circled around the reshape of the wolf's knot before dipping between his legs and running his fingers over Valko's greedily clenching hole, making the wolf gasp again and push his hips down against the familiar touch.
Sylus chuckled as he used his other hand to cup underneath Valko's jaw and tilt his head back until he rested on his shoulder. He captured his lover's lips in a messy kiss that was full of tongue, low little growls and nipping bites to lips as he sunk his three fingers easily inside of Valko's heat, who let out a loud muffled moan into the kiss that Sylus easily swallowed.
"Good boy." Sylus murmured against his lips with a smirk before he kissed Valko again.
━━━
"Sylus–! Ah, ah–hmm–shit! Please–!" Valko panted out with a needy whine as he bounced up and down on Sylus's cock eagerly, his thighs straining and burning from extortion as his head dropped down between his shoulders.
His tail wrapped around Sylus's thigh while he tried not to dig his clawed fingers into Sylus's knees for balance and accidentally make him bleed him again, but he could tell he was failing as the pleasure that rippled up and down his body felt too good and made him easily fall apart.
Sylus laid panting and groaning on his back as he watched the way Valko moved on top of him with a tight grip he had on his hips. His broad built back was covered in a thin sheen of sweat and his ass was a perfect rounded shade of red from the multiple swats Sylus delivered that he came to find out Valko absolutely loved.
Sylus stared, mesmerized at the way it bounced and jiggled with every movement, and he let out a grunt as he dug his own nails hard into Valko's hips and thrusted his hips to meet Valko on every downstroke, causing Valko's noises to increase in volume.
"Mmm, look at you up there, puppy; taking my cock so, so well," Sylus hummed as he ran his hands up and down over Valko's sides before gripping at his waist again, bended his knees up to plant his feet firmly, and fucked up harder and deeper into Valko's ass; his animalistic growls and grunts mixing and blending in with Valko's loud whines and moans.
"S-Sylus–please–" Valko gasped as his back arched and his whole body trembled as he felt Sylus's tip slam head on into his prostate. "I'm gonna cum–I can't h-hold it much longer!" Valko whimpered as he could feel the telltale sign of his orgasm quickly approaching.
Sylus groaned and tipped his head back as he could feel the way Valko's walls was squeezing tight around his dick. His own orgasm wasn't that far behind, so taking his hand off of Valko's waist, Sylus reached up to tangle his fingers into the sweaty red strands and pulled Valko down to him so his back was once again pressed against his equally sweaty chest.
Reaching down between Valko's legs and wrapping his hand firmly around the heavy sized knot that now completely formed at the base, Sylus began to jerk him off quickly, his wrist twisting and squeezing at the sticky tip on every upstroke before going back down and squeezing around the knot as he quickened his fist.
With a growl, Sylus bit down on Valko's shoulder, his fangs piercing through the flesh and drawing out blood that he greedily drunk down. Valko cried out until his voice cracked as he came hard, his body shaking as load after load spilled out and soaked Sylus's hand, making the glide easier and the already wet noises sound louder and messier.
From the way Valko's body clenched around him so tight it felt nearly suffocating, Sylus was cumming deep inside with a couple more strokes of his hips and with a loud groan as he carefully pulled his mouth away, his arms wrapping securely around around his wolf's still trembling body.
The both of them laid on the grassy ground; panting, sweaty and covered in dirt and grime and content in each other's arms as the feeling of their intense orgasms subsided, leaving them both in a post-orgasmic glow.
The silence was comfortable between them for a moment before Valko broke it first with a teasing laugh. "You know, you forgot to mention one other thing," he started as he turned his head to look back at Sylus, who was already looking at him with a raised brow.
Valko grinned as he reached up to wipe at Sylus's bloody mouth with his thumb before sticking it between Sylus's lips.
"Now you can at least admit that I still fucked you better and left you with a rounded belly full of my cum."
Sylus narrowed his eyes and he bit down on Valko's thumb in retaliation, causing the wolf to let out a hiss as he flinched back from the prick that Sylus's fang did. "Keep it up and we'll go another round, and this time I won't be the only one."
11. "I know baby" while you are cumming with Caleb.
🔞MDNI🔞
Click here for more of the Horny Thoughts list.
The silence was the worst part.
Thirty two days of it. It was not like the comfortable quiet of your apartment on a Sunday morning, it was something heavier, pressing down on your chest until every breath felt like work. You'd developed routines around it without meaning to. Checking your phone at the same times every day. Sitting on the edge of your bed in the dark, watching the notification light on your watch for something that never came. Eating when you remembered to. Sleeping when you couldn't stay awake anymore.
The Fleet had given you nothing.
You weren't official family. That was the problem, the one that the Farspace Fleet kept running into every time you called. Childhood bonds didn't have paperwork. Shared trauma didn't have a form number. The promise made in the darkness of his room more than a year ago didn't hold any legal weight, and so every time you called you got the same automated voice, the same words in the same order.
The expedition into the deepspace flux zone is ongoing. All communications are classified under Level 4 security protocols.
You'd stopped counting how many times you'd heard it.
A week ago rumors started moving through the hunter channels, spreading fast and going quiet the moment an official walked into a room. A collapse inside the tunnel. A squadron cut off from the extraction point. You'd cornered a senior officer at the Association headquarters and watched her look at everything in the room except your face while she told you to prepare for the worst. As if that was a sentence you were supposed to absorb and go home.
They were writing him off. Filling in forms. Moving toward the moment where they'd call it officially and send you a letter with his name at the top and a condolences paragraph at the bottom, and the universe would have taken him from you a second time. The first time had been the explosion. You'd been clueless then, and the grief had carved something out of you that had never fully grown back. Thirty two days of silence and you could feel those same edges again, the same hollow shape of a loss you didn't know how to survive this time.
You'd spent the last two days crying under your duvet without a reason to come out.
2:14 AM. The front door clicked.
You sat up so fast the blood rushed out of your head. Sat completely still in the dark, heart hammering, telling yourself it was nothing— probably a neighbor's door, your own exhausted mind making up sounds it wanted to hear. You'd been doing that. Hearing things. Seeing his face in the corner of your eye on the street and turning to find a stranger.
Heavy footsteps in the hallway. A duffel bag dropped onto the hardwood floor. The weight of it, the carelessness of someone too exhausted to set something down gently, sent something electric straight up your spine.
You got out of bed. Your legs weren't entirely reliable. You caught the door frame, steadied yourself, crossed the hallway on autopilot with your heart somewhere in your throat.
The bathroom light was on. Through the glass the steam was already building, the shower ran hard and hot, and you could smell it from the doorway—your shampoo.
You pushed the door open.
The steam rolled out around you, warm and thick, and through the clear panel of the shower glass—
Caleb.
He didn't know you were there yet.
He was standing under the water with his forehead pressed against the tile, shoulders rising and falling. The water was too hot—you could tell because the steam was already thick enough to blur the far wall—but he wasn't adjusting it. Just standing in it. Letting it hit the back of his neck and run down the lines of his shoulders to carry whatever he'd brought back with him down the drain.
His skin was pale, the kind of pale that came from a month without real sunlight, and every muscle in his back was wound so tight it looked painful.
He looked like he had fought his way to a door and wasn't entirely sure yet that he'd made it through.
His head turned.
His eyes found yours through the condensation and steam, bloodshot from lack of sleep and completely awake in an instant, and the look on his face when he saw you standing there—the unguarded relief of it—hit you somewhere behind your ribs and stayed there.
He reached back to shut the water off then stepped out without reaching for a towel, water running off his shoulders and chest, steam rising off his skin. He looked different. Harder at the edges. Several days of dark stubble caught the harsh bathroom light and he looked nothing like the man who'd kissed you goodbye a month ago, or he looked exactly like that man, just with everything worn closer to the surface, less of it contained.
Neither of you spoke. You weren't sure you could. The reality of him standing in front of you—breathing, dripping water onto the floor—was still making its way through days of silence and the grief of someone who had already lost him once and had spent the last forty eight hours preparing to do it again.
"Caleb." It came out barely a sound.
He crossed the bathroom floor in three steps, water trailing behind him, and his hand wrapped around your wrist. His grip was warm, real and it made your eyes sting immediately. He didn't say anything. He just held you for a moment, his thumb pressed against your pulse point, and let you feel that he was there.
He kept hold of your wrist the whole way. Down the hall, through the door of your room, until your shoulders found a wall and he stopped in front of you. The sight of him, still yours, broke something open in your chest that you'd been holding very carefully shut.
"Caleb,—the fleet, they—I thought you were—"
"I'm right here." His voice came out rough, scraped down to something raw and unrecognizable, nothing of his usual warmth in it yet. "Forget what they said. I'm right here. I'm safe."
He placed his palms against the wall on either side of your head, steadying the space around you like he always had. The heat coming off his skin was startling against the cool air of the bedroom. You looked up at him, at the dark sharp lines of his jaw and the thick stubble that made him look exhausted and more real than anything you'd let yourself imagine in the last four weeks.
"Look at you," he said quietly, eyes moving over your face, your shaking hands, "Why are you trembling. It's okay." His voice dropped further. "I've got you."
"I thought you were dead." The first sob broke through before you could stop it "They wouldn't tell me anything, Caleb. They told me to prepare for the worst, I didn't know what that—fuck, I did know what it meant and I couldn't—"
"I know." He pulled you away from the wall and buried his face in the curve of your neck, you felt the rough drag of his stubble against your skin and gasped. He breathed you in slowly, deeply, his whole chest expanding against yours. "I know what they're like." His arms tightened around you. "But I promised you. I have always promised you. I fought my way out of that tunnel because leaving you again was not an option."
His hands moved down and without any warning he hooked his hands under your thighs and lifted you clean off the floor.
You wrapped your legs around his waist on instinct, hands flying to his shoulders. Your shorts rode up with the movement, bare thighs pressing against the heat of his hips.
"Baby—"
His mouth came down on yours.
It wasn't desperate in the way you'd expected. It was slower than that, deeper, a kiss that had too much behind it to rush. A month of darkness, cold and whatever he'd fought through to get back to you, all of it pressing into the way his lips moved against yours, his tongue parting your mouth in a heavy stroke that made your fingers curl into his damp hair and pull.
He shifted your weight, pressing your spine gently but firmly into the wall, and you felt the full length of his cock against you through the thin fabric of your shorts—already hard, already searching for the closeness you both needed, his hips moving in a slow rhythm that mirrored exactly what his mouth was doing.
He broke the kiss just far enough to look at you again.
"I'm here," he said, his words almost too quiet to hear. "Right here. I'm not going anywhere."
"I need—" Your voice broke, tears were streaming down your face. "Please. I need to feel you. I need to know you're actually—"
The sound that came out of him was pained. He lowered you until your feet touched the floor, keeping one arm tight around your waist, and his free hand went to your waistband, careful, guiding your shorts and underwear down together until they pooled at your ankles and you stepped out of them.
He straightened back up and you looked at each other in the quiet of the room. He was watching your face with an expression that made your throat close up again. The marks of the last month were all over him, the exhaustion, the weight loss, the hollowness around his eyes, and he was still the most beautiful man you'd ever seen.
He reached for the hem of your shirt and pulled it over your head, tossing it behind him without looking. Then he was back against you, chest to chest, and the heat of his body in front of you and the cool hard wall behind you made your breath leave you all at once.
His jaw dragged down your throat. The stubble was rough and you felt every millimeter of it, that scraping friction kept pulling you back into your body every time emotion threatened to pull you out of it. He was doing it on purpose. Making sure you felt him. "Right here," he said softly against your skin. "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere. I'm yours."
There was nothing left to say that your body wasn't already saying for you.
He hooked one of your legs over his hip, his forearm sliding under your thigh to hold you there. His free hand moved between you, guiding himself to your entrance, and he paused—just for a breath, tip pressed against your heat—eyes on your face, waiting.
"Please. Now. Ca—"
He pressed forward and you buried your face in his neck.
The sob that came out of you surprised both of you. He felt it move through you and pulled you closer, both arms wrapping around you, his hands spread wide across your back.
"I've got you," he whispered, lips against your temple. "I've got you. I'm here."
He pulled back slowly. Almost all the way. Let you feel the drag of it, the absence, and then drove back in deeper.
"Caleb—" he swallowed the sound of his name with a sound of his own, low in his chest, his forehead dropping to yours.
He began to move and there was nothing fast about it. Just you and him.
The heat built fast anyway. Your nails found his back, his shoulders, whatever you could reach, and he let you—didn't flinch, didn't shift away, just kept moving in a steady rhythm while the wet sounds of it and both of your breathing filled up the room. Your tears were still falling and you stopped trying to do anything about them, just let them come while your mouth left marks on his body.
His shoulder pulled away from your mouth.
"Look at me." Came his voice, strained, like it cost him something to speak. "Let me see you."
You lifted your head. Your vision was a bit blurry, everything fractured through tears, but you could see him clearly enough, jaw clenched, neck tight, the muscles in his face working against something he was holding back.
"You don't have to be scared anymore," he rasped, hips driving forward again, finding a shorter faster rhythm that dragged against every nerve ending you had. "I'm right here, baby. I'm staying right here."
"I was so scared—" The words broke apart before you got through them, your body clenching around him in tight pulses. "Caleb, I thought—I kept calling and they wouldn't—and then she said to prepare and I didn't—"
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry you had to sit with that."
"Don't apologize—"
"Look at me," he said again, softer this time. "Stay with me."
He grabbed your other leg, hoisting you higher until you were fully suspended—nothing under you but him, every thrust finding someplace deeper, enough to make your whole body seize up and your head fall back against the wall.
"Oh—Caleb—I'm going to—I—"
"I've got you." He brought his face to your cheek, lips moving against the wet, salty skin there, breathing you in. "I've got you. Let go."
The past month collapsed into a single point in your chest and then detonated. Not just pleasure—though that rolled through you in long shaking waves—but everything under it. Every night staring at his empty side of the bed. Every time a voice said please await official updates. The two days under your duvet where you'd let yourself start to grieve him. All of it coming up at once, unstoppable, your whole body shaking with it while he held you against the wall and didn't let you fall.
"I love you," you sobbed into his neck, the words coming out in pieces. "I love you—I love you—"
"I know." His voice cracked on the second word. He was close. His lips pressed to your temple, your jaw, your wet cheek "I know, baby. I love you. I love you. I'm home."
He buried himself as deep as he could go, shaking, your name in his mouth like a prayer he'd been repeating for a month to keep himself moving forward.
He carried you to the bed eventually. Lay down with you still tangled against his chest, one hand moving slow up and down your back, the other tucked under his head.
"They really told you to prepare?"
"Three days ago."
He was quiet for a moment. His hand stilled on your back.
"They wouldn't tell me anything because I'm not—I'm not on any form. There's no box I fit in. I'm not—" You stopped. Felt your throat tighten again and breathed through it. "There's no paperwork that says I'm yours. So as far as they were concerned I was nobody and they owed me nothing."
Caleb didn't say anything. His chest rose and fell steadily.
"I need that to change"
"Okay," he said.
"I mean it, Caleb." You pushed yourself up onto your elbow and looked at him, his eyes were already on you. "I need it to actually change. Not someday. Not when things settle down or when the fleet rotation is easier or when we find a better time. I need—" your voice came out fierce and a little unsteady and you let it be both. "I need to be your wife. Legally. On every form and every document and every emergency contact line they have. I need there to be paperwork that says you're mine so that the next time someone tries to lock me out of a room where decisions are being made about your life, I can put it on their desk and they cannot say no to me."
He was very still.
"I'm not asking you to do something romantic," you said. "I'm not—this isn't about a ceremony or a dress or any of that, though I want all of that too, I do. I'm asking you because I spent a month being nobody to the people who had information about whether you were alive. I'm asking because I sat in this apartment with no legal right to know anything and I cannot do that again. I will not do that again."
Caleb looked at you for a long moment then he reached up and put his hand against the side of your face, his thumb brushing your cheekbone.
"I've wanted to ask you, I kept waiting for the right moment."
"This is the right moment."
"You're proposing to me at four in the morning."
"I am."
The corner of his mouth pulled up. The first real version of his smile you'd seen since he walked through the door, the one that reached all the way up, the one that was so him it made your chest ache.
He pulled you back down against him, arms wrapping around you, lips pressing to the top of your head and staying there. "First thing tomorrow we go to the registration office. We fill out every form they have. We put your name on everything."
You pressed your face into his chest and closed your eyes, this time it wasn't to wait for a notification that never came.
I have my trinity but I'm a harem girly in spirit 🥰
(Note: Mainly just fluff. I just need some happy vibes to cope with everything going on in with this game and I'm still including Valko regardless😌 AWOOOOO🐺)
Divider credit: @cillmequick 🥰
I can picture Caleb, Valko, and Raf being the main clingy trio that's always fighting over who gets to cuddle with you first and whining about why it should be them.
🍎: We all know I'm the favorite so obviously I'm going first. Tell em, Pips 😌
🐺: In your dreams. Just cuz you THINK you're the top dog here doesn't mean you are. She needs some REAL cuddle material and we all know that's ME. *flicks his wolf ears and tail for emphasis*
🐠: OBVIOUSLY, both of you beasts would crush my beloved bride. She needs the gentle touch and caress of a true artiste and since I'm the only one here with the actual credentials...I will be the one cuddling my cutie.
You're laughing at them going back and forth cause it's cute. Xavier is sitting on the other couch with his usual pout since he's still a jealous bunbun sometimes.
Xav finally gets up and mumbles something about cooking himself something to eat.
You're on immediate high alert cause you're not about to have a repeat of the last time he tried cooking and immediately start following him...which is exactly what he wanted.
Xavier turns once you get close and catches you in a warm hug
🌟: Caught you, Bunny..
And now he's teleporting you to his room away from the others and next thing you hear is those 3 cursing Xav's name from downstairs and calling him a cheater.
Xavier tosses you gently on the bed, glad to finally have you to himself...and then before you know it, you're surrounded by familiar black and red tendrils...aaaand now finding yourself back in the living room bring cradled by Sylus.
🐦⬛: Sounds like some people need a lesson in sharing, Kitten.
Xav teleports back down and now the room is a chorus of all of them bickering back and forth.
Zayne is used to tuning out the chaos that is yall's usual shenanigans and is just chilling in the loveseat while reading through some of his work reports. He knows he wouldn't have it any other way though even if he never says it out loud 😉
Finally it's a little too much and you finally speak up:
"Zayniiie....all this moving around has me overheated...can I get some help please? 🥺"
All the guys pause and zero in on Zayne and that tell tale smirk on his face as he sets down his papers and comes and scoops you up before making his way back to the bedroom.
❄️: As much as I enjoy getting to be your personal cooling system, surely you're aware there are more efficient means of getting us all to cuddle with you.
You give him a quick kiss on the cheek. "But then where's the fun in that?"
3...2...1
You hear the footsteps as the rest of your loves follow you both down the hallway and into the bedroom, the Alaskan King Size bed just waiting for the cuddle session that will forever remind you that your favorite place to be is with all of them 🥰
(Sorry it's been so long since I've written but I wanted to start with something light. Hope you enjoyed it 🥰)
i absolutely love watching this fandom breathe life back into Valko. every fic, every piece of art, every tiny headcanon passed from one person to another.
there’s something really beautiful about a community deciding that a story isn’t over just because someone else said it was.
I want to get back to my writing so badly cause I miss it. Emotions have been high lately with all the LADS stuff going on. I may start small with drabbles and build from there. Thank you all to those who support and I love yall💖
Horny thoughts EXTRA: Caleb and Valko using a dual entry fleshlight as punishment.
Link for a visual (very NSFW) 🔞MDNI🔞
This is a gift and a thank you for the amazing ideas (including this one) to @stardustsirens 💜💜💚💚.
Check the rest of the Horny thoughts list here
For two men who had both agreed—out loud, with words, like adults—to share a relationship with you, Caleb and Valko were doing a spectacular job of acting like they'd never heard the word compromise in their lives.
It had started over breakfast.
Specifically, it had started over the fact that Caleb had taken the last of your coffee without asking and Valko had taken that personally.
"That's not what this is about and you know it," Caleb said, his voice gone quiet, that meant he was past the point of raising it. He stood in the living room with his arms crossed "You've been doing this for months. Every time I'm here you find something. The coffee, the blanket, the remote—"
"She was cold," Valko said. "I gave her the blanket because she was cold. You were sitting right next to her and you didn't notice."
"I noticed."
"You were watching the stupid game."
"I can watch the game and notice she's cold at the same time."
"Clearly not, since I'm the one who got up."
Caleb's eye twitched. Just slightly. "You got up from the other side of the room to bring her a blanket that was sitting six inches from my hand so you could—"
"So I could what, Caleb? Make sure my girlfriend wasn't cold? That's the crime we're prosecuting today?"
"She's my girlfriend too."
"Then act like it."
Caleb uncrossed his arms and stepped forward, and Valko, because Valko had never backed up from anything in his life and wasn't about to start now, also stepped forward to meet him. They ended up in the middle of the living room with their chests almost touching and matching expressions of immovable stubbornness.
"You want to talk about acting like it," Caleb said, very quietly. "Let's talk about last Tuesday."
"I'm gonna need you to be specific."
"You called her ten times, Valko."
"I was checking on her."
"Ten times. In an hour. I was with her. She didn't need to be checked on, she was fine, you just wanted to make sure I knew you were calling"
"This is actually insane," Valko threw one hand up. "You're telling me I'm not allowed to call my girlfriend?"
"Not when I'm with her"
"I'm trying," Valko said, clipped and precise, "to take care of her. Which I realize is a foreign concept to a man whose primary contribution to this relationship is showing up on weekends and looking pretty—"
"I look..." Caleb stopped. A vein in his temple was doing something concerning. "That is not the point—"
"Oh my god, that is enough."
They turned at exactly the same time, the argument dying mid breath, and found you standing in the bedroom doorway. You had your arms crossed, a silk blindfold hanging from each hand, and the expression on your face was one you reserved for occasions when you had reached the outer limit of what you were willing to tolerate.
You looked at Caleb. Then at Valko. Then at the ridiculous amount of physical space they had managed to eliminate between two fully grown men who had, three days ago, been in your bed at the same time without anyone losing a limb.
"I have watched you two argue all day" you said. "You have both been in this relationship for months. You have both—" you paused, choosing words, "demonstrated, repeatedly, that you are capable of being in the same room as each other."
Neither of them said anything. Caleb had the grace to look slightly embarrassed. Valko looked like he wanted to say something and was physically restraining himself.
You held up the blindfolds.
"I'm done mediating. You want to act like you don't know how to share?" Your eyes moved between them, steady and completely unmoved by the combined effect of the two of them standing there looking like scolded golden retrievers. "Then I'll make it simple for everyone."
-------------------------------------------------
The bedroom was very quiet by the time you got them both in there.
They ran out of things to argue about. It was hard to continue a territorial dispute when they couldn't see where they were in the room. They stood where you'd put them, stripped bare, blindfolded, shoulders still carrying the tension from the living room but with nowhere to direct it anymore. Both of them had their hands at their sides, not touching anything, assuming they were far away from each other.
They were not.
They were close enough that if either one of them exhaled too hard they'd feel it. You'd done that on purpose.
You sank to your knees between them and looked up at their faces —both of them tight jawed, heads slightly tilted, trying to orient themselves by sound alone— and took a moment to appreciate the fact that two of the most difficult men you'd ever met were currently standing blindfolded and completely at your mercy because of a disagreement about coffee.
You poured the lube and wrapped your hand around Caleb's cock first.
His head went back immediately, a rough groan pulling out of him, hands gripping his own hips to stop himself from reaching for you. "God, your hand—can do it a bit faster?"
"Don't rush her," Valko's voice came out tighter than he intended. He was trying to figure out from the sound of Caleb's voice exactly how far away he was standing.
You moved your hand to Valko and his whole body shuddered, a sharp exhale escaping through his nose. "Fuck, I've been waiting all day."
"You're both getting it," you said, keeping your voice smooth and even.
You picked up the sleeve from the floor beside you.
Dual entry, no center barrier, ribbed on both ends. They knew you loved toys and they loved using them on you. Neither of them had any reason to suspect what this one was about to do.
You lined it up, shifted your weight onto your heels, and pushed it down over both of them at the same time.
The sound they made was almost identical, two sharp, breathless gasps in perfect sync, the ribbed interior gripping them both tightly. For a second they both just stood there processing the sensation.
Then you pushed them closer, the rest of the way in.
The tips of their cocks met somewhere in the barrierless middle.
"What—" Caleb's whole body recoiled, knees buckling, one hand shooting out sideways for something to grab onto and finding nothing. "What the—what is that—"
Valko made a sound that was not a word in any language. He'd gone completely rigid, every muscle locked up, his chin dropped to his chest.
"Is that—" Caleb's voice came out strange and strained, working through the information his body was sending him with visible effort. "Is that another—is someone else—are you—" He stopped. "What the fuck?"
"That's 'ko," you said pleasantly.
"What the hell—" Valko's hips snapped back on reflex, a choked sound tearing out of him that he was going to pretend hadn't happened. "Sweetheart, what did you just—"
"Relax," you said, both hands clamping down over the center of the sleeve, fingers squeezing the material to keep them where they were. "You didn't want to share so now you're sharing this."
Caleb's breathing had gone completely to pieces. His chest was heaving, jaw working around words that weren't coming out in the right order. "You actually—" A sharp breath. "You seriously—"
You gave the sleeve one slow twisting squeeze and he lost the sentence entirely.
"Look at you both," you teased, from your knees again, looking up at two flushed faces with tremendous satisfaction. "So territorial. So impossible. And completely hard inside the same toy."
"I am hard for you," Valko snapped, the words coming out slightly less convincing than usual given the circumstances. A dark flush had crawled all the way up his neck and into his ears. He tried to step back, thighs shaking. "Take it off. Right now. I am not doing this, I don't—"
"You're not going anywhere."
You delivered the first stroke before he finished the sentence and the sound that came out of both of them at the same time was something you were going to think about for a very long time.
The friction was immediate and overwhelming—the ribbed interior stimulating the entire length of their cocks while they were pressed tip to tip. Neither of them pulled away.
What happened instead was considerably more predictable given who they were.
Valko's jaw set. You felt him shift his weight, recalibrate, and then drive his hips forward hard—a full thrust into the sleeve that was transparently designed to shove Caleb back through force of will. "Move," he said, through his teeth.
"No," Caleb answered and met him head on.😝
The impact of them hitting tip to tip inside the slick toy punched a moan out of both of them, loud enough that you were briefly grateful for the thickness of the bedroom walls.
You started pumping the sleeve to match their rhythm and leaned in. "There you go," you kept your voice low, right in the space between them. "All that energy you've been wasting arguing about coffee." Another stroke, firm and deliberate. "Look how much better this is."
"Don't act smug about this."
"I'm not acting smug," you said, completely smugly, picking up the pace. "I'm just saying. You've both been impossible for three months and it took me five minutes to solve it."
"This isn't solved—" Caleb's voice broke on the last word as you twisted your wrist on the next steoke. He swore, hips stuttering forward. "This is—this is not what I'd call solved—"
"Less talking," you said."More cooperating."
"I am not cooperating with him," Valko thrusted forward again.
Caleb met him again without hesitation.
"Come on, 'ko," you watched his face carefully. "He's pushing you back. Are you really going to let him?"
"Pips—"
"Absolutely not," Valko said through his teeth and reached out blindly until his hands found Caleb's shoulders and dug in. He used the grip to anchor himself, rolling his hips forward in slow circles that ground them together until his voice betrayed him, dropping from furious to undone in the space of a single breath. "I'll—" a shaking exhale, "I'll outlast him. Just like I've done it for months."
"You are shaking," Caleb pointed out, panting, sweat running down his temples and soaking into the edge of his blindfold. His hand had found its way into Valko's hair, gripping tight, the only thing keeping him upright as your hands worked faster. "You're already—you're twitching, I can feel it—you're so close you can't even—"
"Don't," Valko warned.
"You're falling apart and I've barely—haah—" Caleb's smugness dissolved as you squeezed the center of the sleeve. "God—"
"Shut up," Valko's command would have landed better if it hadn't come out an octave higher than his normal voice, cracked clean down the middle by another roll of his hips.
You slid your free hand up the flat of Caleb's stomach, felt every muscle pulled tight, holding back. "Tell me how it feels," you ordered.
"It's—" Caleb's was losing rhythm, the competitive edge bleeding into something desperate. "It's too much. The heat—I can feel him—Pips, please, I'm going to—"
You stopped the stroke immediately, keeping them locked against each other with nowhere to go.
Caleb made a sound that was mostly just suffering.
"Not yet," you said, turning your head slightly. " 'ko. Tell him."
"Tell him what?" Valko gritted out.
"How close you are."
A long silence broken only by both of them breathing like they'd been running.
"Damn it," Valko said finally, the grip on Caleb's shoulders turning white knuckled. "He's—" another shaking breath, "he's too much. Too hot. Everything he does just—" He cut himself off, jaw clenching. "Stop moving, Caleb. I'm serious. Stop—"
"I can't," Caleb moaned, his whole body moved forward, one final thrust that buried him as far into the sleeve as he could go.
Valko's forehead dropped forward, finding Caleb's shoulder, Caleb's hand was still in his hair. Their chests were heaving in the same broken rhythm, breath mingling in the small space.
"There," you said quietly. "Was that so hard?
Slowly, like he was doing it without deciding to, his body moving before his brain caught up, Valko's forehead dragged up from Caleb's shoulder, sliding along the curve of his neck, up his jaw, until it came to rest against Caleb's forehead.
Caleb went completely still. You didn't move. Didn't speak. Just watched.
Valko's hands, still gripping Caleb's shoulders, slowly loosened. Spread flat. Like he was steadying himself against something he hadn't been prepared for. His breath came out ragged and uneven against Caleb's lips.
Caleb's fingers in his hair tightened again and he tilted his head up slightly.
Valko tilted his down.
Their mouths met somewhere in the middle and neither of them made it a question.
It wasn't soft. It was two people who'd been circling each other for months finally landing, all that accumulated tension finding somewhere to go at once—Caleb's hand pulling Valko in by the hair, Valko's hands sliding from Caleb's shoulders to the back of his neck, both of them breathing hard through their noses because neither one was willing to break it long enough to properly inhale.
You started moving the sleeve again. Slow at first. Then faster.
Valko broke the kiss on a sharp desperate sound that Caleb swallowed immediately, pulling him back in, and then both of them stopped pretending there was anything controlled left about any of this. Their hips moved together instead of against each other for the first time, same rhythm, same direction, working into the sleeve in sync while the sounds they were making dissolved from words into something much more honest.
"Together," you said quietly, from below "Both of you."
They came at exactly the same moment, Valko first by a heartbeat, Caleb right behind him, both of them shaking, gripping each other and breathing into each other's mouths while it rolled through them in long waves. Valko made a sound low in his chest that you'd never heard from him before. Caleb's knees buckled and Valko caught him without thinking, arms wrapping around him on reflex, and they stood there holding each other up.
You looked up at both of them, blindfolds askew, foreheads together.
"So," you laughed "Same time next week?"
Caleb laughed first. Just one short exhausted sound, but it was real.
Valko pressed his lips to Caleb's temple, which surprised everyone in the room including him, and said nothing.
You stood up, brushed off your knees, and went to make yourself a cup of coffee. Nobody had taken the last of it this time.
The world is already such a mess, and for many of us, games are one of the few places where we can find comfort. A place where we can forget about reality for a little while, relax, and simply enjoy ourselves.
That's why it hurts so much to realize that even this tiny bit of comfort isn't safe. That even in a fictional world, you have to fight for it - sign petitions, follow every update, and argue that you deserve to be just a little happier, even if it's only because of a few pixels on a screen.
I feel sorry for everyone involved. For the developers and staff whose lives and safety have reportedly been affected by the actions of people who took things far beyond reasonable criticism. And for all the girls who were looking forward to a character that brought them comfort, only to have that hope taken away in complete silence.
I don't think everyone understands that this game is much more than just attractive characters or romantic content. For some people, it's a way to cope with depression, loneliness, or simply get through another difficult day. Wanting Valko back isn't just about getting a new love interest. In some ways, it's about protecting something that helps people protect their own mental health. It's about trying to save at least one small thing - even if it's digital - when the real world often feels impossible to change.
From what I've seen, this seems to be how the company usually handles situations like this: by staying silent. My friend, who plays Infinity Nikki, just looked at me and said, "First time? Get used to it."
Can I really judge them? Probably not. There are countless factors behind the scenes that we'll never know. Based on everything that's been said and done so far, I don't expect Valko to return anytime soon. If he ever does, it will probably be after a major redesign - or perhaps not at all.
But you know what truly impressed me?
The community.
The fact that so many people came together, made their voices heard, organized petitions, donated, supported one another, and refused to stay indifferent. To me, that's incredible.
Where I come from, people often wouldn't stand up for a real person the way this community stood up for a fictional one. And honestly, I think that's worthy of respect. It shows just how much kindness, empathy, and hope for positive change still exist in people.
So I'd simply like to say: thank you. ❤️
Thank you to everyone who refuses to stay silent. Thank you to everyone who keeps fighting for the things they believe matter.
Not every battle can be won - and that's okay.
What's truly important is not losing yourself, your compassion, or the things you believe in along the way.
This is my precious baby, treat it well cause I don't want to drop it. 💜💜
🔞MDNI🔞
CW: Jealous Caleb. Mentions of piss 🫣what did you expect? they are dogs 🫣
Part 1 here (Valko's POV)
The day you moved in, Caleb had no more than twenty minutes.
Valko wasn't part of the day at all. He'd told you, the week prior, that he thought it'd be easier on you if he stayed out of the way —no awkward energy while you figured out where your pots and pans went, no stranger on your first night in a new apartment with your boyfriend present. He'd gone home to his parents for the whole weekend, giving you a few days to make the place feel like it was yours too. Considerate, you'd called it and Caleb had thought so too, at the time.
Which meant, practically speaking, that Caleb had never laid eyes on the man whose apartment he was about to wire for sound and picture. He'd done the responsible version of due diligence weeks earlier, before he'd ever agreed to any of this, he pulled together what he could on the guy, the boring paperwork version of a person. Clean record. Solid grades that came from actually doing the reading rather than skating by. No red flags, no history that raised anything, nothing that looked like a reason to say no when you'd asked if he was okay with you signing a lease with someone he'd never met. By every measure that mattered on paper, Valko had checked out fine. Better than fine. Caleb remembers being almost reassured by how unremarkable the guy seemed. A soft looking student with tidy grades and a clean background was about as low risk as roommates came.
It hadn't occurred to him that the things worth worrying about were never the ones that showed up on paper.
He'd priced out the hardware weeks earlier, because reassured wasn't the same as unconcerned, and unconcerned had never once been a setting he came installed with. Units the size of a shirt button, nothing that would catch a casual glance unless you already knew exactly where to look and what you were looking for.
You and your friends had done the actual moving that afternoon — furniture, boxes, all the unglamorous parts — and by the time Caleb showed up it was mostly done, and you'd kissed him hello smelling like cardboard dust and the particular sweat of hauling too many boxes up three flights of stairs. After everyone was gone you told him to give you twenty minutes to shower and change before dinner. Twenty minutes.
The second the bathroom door shut and the water started running, he got to work.
He was fast, not rushed but no wasted motion. The hallway smoke detector took under two minutes, the housing popped and reseated so cleanly you'd never notice it had been touched. The bookshelf in the living room got the smallest unit he had, tucked into the seam of a decorative box you'd already unpacked without knowing it would ever hold anything but its lid. Your bedroom took the longest because he stood in the doorway for a minute first, boxes still stacked waist high, your bed frame leaning in pieces against the wall, and he felt something he didn't have a tidy name for yet.
He told himself it was diligence. A man in his position —deployed on short notice, gone for weeks at a stretch, leaving you alone in a new place with a stranger he'd approved on nothing but a clean background check and a gut feeling— was entitled to a baseline of security. He wasn't watching you. He was watching the apartment. There was, he told himself, a meaningful difference between the two, and he fully intended to respect it.
He mounted the last unit above the window frame, angled down across the bed and the door both, hands perfectly steady, and if some quiet part of him already understood that watching the apartment and watching you were never going to stay as separate as he wanted them to, he didn't let the thought get any further than the doorway.
He checked each feed once on his phone, everything exactly where it should be, and had just enough time left to sit down on the arm of the couch and look unbothered before the bathroom door opened and you came out toweling your hair, already asking if he was hungry.
He said he was starving. He wasn't lying, exactly. He just wasn't hungry for what you thought.
-------------------------
For the first few weeks, Caleb barely thought about the feeds at all.
That had surprised him a little. He'd expected to check them constantly, some low hum of vigilance running in the back of his skull every time he was away, but the footage that came back was really boring. Valko unpacking boxes, arranging books by subject. Valko in the kitchen at eleven at night making tea and reading something on his phone with his glasses pushed up into his hair. Valko on the phone with what turned out to be his mother, every single Sunday, always from the kitchen, always with something already going on the stove. It was almost soothing to watch.
The things about you took longer to notice, because it never happened all at once. They happened in small behaviors stacking one on top of the next until the pile stopped looking like coincidence and started looking like a pattern with a shape.
He noticed the way Valko's head would turn before you'd finished speaking, like he was tracking something about you a second ahead of your voice. He noticed that Valko always knew when you'd walked into a room, even from the kitchen, even with his back turned or before the door had fully opened. Small things. Explainable things, on their own. Roommates picked up on each other's footsteps eventually, right? Caleb told himself that, more than once, in the early weeks, and mostly believed it.
Then there was the smelling.
It started as something he found funny. You'd come home from the gym, sweaty, half collapsed on the couch complaining about your knees, and Valko would drift past on his way to the kitchen and just pause. Head tipping, nose working like he was standing in front of an open oven and enjoying the warmth of it. He did it with your coffee mugs too, picking them up off the counter to rinse, holding them up a beat too long first, eyes half closed.
Caleb had laughed, the first handful of times. Actually laughed, alone in his room at Skyhaven with his boots up on the desk and the feed running small in the corner of his screen, because his first read on it — his honest, uncomplicated first read — was that the guy had a small crush on you and your scent. Some private, harmless thing Valko indulged when he thought no one was watching, like the equivalent of a man who liked a particular perfume on a woman's neck. Caleb had known guys like that. He was like that. It wasn't the strangest thing a person could be into, and it certainly wasn't his business what some guy did with his own nose in the privacy of his apartment. As long as he didn't touch you.
What made him stop finding it funny was the accuracy of it.
Because it wasn't just that Valko smelled things. Lots of people smelled things — coffee, rain,food, the inside of a bakery. It was that Valko was able to smell things nobody should reasonably be able to smell. He'd know if you were coming down with something a full day before you noticed it yourself, showing up with soup and the specific cold medicine you liked, no explanation offered, none asked for. Once —and this was the one that had actually made Caleb sit forward in his chair, elbows on his knees, replaying the clip twice— Valko had stopped dead in the hallway outside your door, utterly still for almost ten full seconds, and then knocked and asked if you'd used a new shampoo. You had. That morning. A sample bottle a friend had given you, something you hadn't mentioned to anyone.
Caleb turned it over for a long time, alone with the feed and his own unhelpful thoughts, and came up with nothing that satisfied him. Good sense of smell didn't cover it. Attentive roommate didn't cover it either. There was a word for what it looked like, and the word was obsessive, he knew obsessive, and once that word showed up in his head it didn't leave again.
He watched Valko lean in doorframes a beat too long after you'd passed through them, chest expanding slow, like he was trying to hold something in his lungs for as long as physically possible. He watched him sit on your side of the couch when you weren't home. He watched, once, an evening when you were out with friends, as Valko stood in the middle of the empty living room for almost ten minutes, eyes shut, breathing slowly through his nose like a man meditating, and Caleb had felt something cold and unfamiliar move through his chest.
Some part of him had started needing to know exactly how far this went before he decided what to do about it. Not for your safety. Not yet, not only that. For the shape of the thing itself — because a man who paid this much attention to a woman he lived with, who catalogued her this precisely, who treated the ordinary residue of her daily life like something worth memorizing, was either about to become a serious problem or already was one, and Caleb preferred not knowing which.
----------------------
Whenever you went out to Skyhaven, Caleb asked about Valko the way you'd ask about the weather. Casual. Woven so naturally into the rest of the conversation that you never once thought to notice the frequency of it.
How's your roommate? Is he still cooking those mystery soups you keep sending me pictures of? Small questions, easy ones. You always answered them the same way, warm and a little exasperated. He's good. The other day he left a whole container of dumplings in the fridge with my name on it like I'm going to forget I live there. He tried to fix the shower instead of calling a plumber and now the water pressure's worse than before. Caleb listened to every word of it and heard nothing in your voice that shouldn't have been there. That was worse. It meant whatever was happening on the other end of this was happening in a direction that only ever pointed one way.
Because you never crossed boundaries. You didn't flirt with Valko, didn't linger, didn't so much as change the register of your voice when his name came up. You borrowed his phone charger and let him borrow your blender and that was the whole of it, as far as you were concerned, a friendship built on shared space and nothing else. When you were with Caleb, you were entirely with Caleb. You curled into his side on the couch without thinking about it, threaded your fingers through his under restaurant tables, said his name first thing when you called. There wasn't a single thread of you that had gone anywhere near Valko, not once, not even by accident.
Caleb knew that. Knew it with total certainty, watched it confirmed on a screen more nights than he wanted to count. And it didn't help even a little.
It was never about whether you'd stray, because you wouldn't and you hadn't. It was about a man miles closer to you than Caleb ever got to be, learning the exact temperature of your laugh, memorizing what shampoo you used before you'd finished the bottle, existing in the same rooms as you for more consecutive hours in a week than Caleb sometimes got in a month. Devotion didn't need reciprocation to be a threat. It just needed proximity and time, and Valko had both in a supply Caleb couldn't compete with.
He didn't talk about any of that. Wouldn't have known how to, and wasn't sure it would sound like anything but paranoia out loud. What he did instead —the only outlet that ever actually took the edge off— was let it out somewhere else entirely.
You'd noticed it, the last handful of visits. A new weight to him. He'd pull you against him the second the door shut behind you, like he'd been rationing himself all week and finally didn't have to anymore, his hand holding your ass tightly, keeping you exactly where he wanted you. "Say it" he'd murmur against your throat, teeth grazing skin, deciding whether or not to leave visual proof. "Who do you belong to?" You always answered him easily, breathless, meaning it completely, never once understanding what you were actually settling in him when you did, some ugly certainty that needed re confirming more often than it should have. He held eye contact longer than he used to during the quiet after, checking your face for a softness only he was supposed to put there. He'd trace his fingers along his marks on your body and think about a man miles away who didn't get to see this. Who only ever got the version of you that came home clean.
It never lasted long enough, the satisfaction. He'd lie awake after, you asleep and warm against his chest, and some part of him would already be reaching for his phone. He hated that he did it but he did it every time anyway.
The night everything changed you'd been out shopping and Caleb had pulled up the feed out of nothing but habit, expecting the usual, nothing worth the guilt of looking.
What he found instead was Valko standing in front of your open closet and it took Caleb a few seconds to understand what he was looking at, because his brain simply refused the information the first two times.
He watched Valko lift your panties —Caleb's favorite pair— to his face like he was breathing through it. Watched his eyes close, his shoulders drop, something helpless move through his whole body. Watched him search, actually search, even in the middle of what was clearly costing him every ounce of self control he had, like he was checking for something and Caleb couldn't yet guess what. And then he watched the rest of it happen, when Valko's back hit the wall, watched his hand move, heard a sound come out of him that even through a speaker made the hair go up on the back of his neck.
Caleb didn't move, he couldn't breathe for a while. He sat there in the dark of his own room with the computer screen throwing pale light across his knuckles, and watched the entire thing to its end with a stillness that had nothing to do with calm.
Two days later, he was on his way to you.
----------------
He didn't sleep on the transit out.
That wasn't unusual for him, he'd trained himself out of needing to sleep on schedule years ago. He sat with his bag between his boots, his phone dark in his lap and ran the footage back in his head anyway, even though he didn't need to, even though he'd already watched it enough times that the memory of it was carved into him.
Caleb understood obsession. He'd have been lying to say otherwise, sitting there, thinking about a stranger's face pressed into fabric that belonged to a woman who wasn't his. He recognized the shape of it because he was looking at a version of it every time he looked in a mirror. The difference, the only difference that mattered to him, was that he had a claim. He had two years of your voice choosing his name first. He had every right the other man didn't, and he intended to make that distinction impossible to miss.
He didn't tell you he was coming. That had been a conscious choice, made somewhere over the first hour of travel and never once reconsidered. If he called ahead, you'd ask why. You'd want to know what had prompted an unscheduled weekend, and he didn't have an answer he was willing to give you yet —not I've been watching your roommate lose his fucking mind sniffing your panties on hidden cameras I never told you about.
That conversation existed somewhere down the line, distant and unavoidable, but it wasn't a conversation for a phone call from a transit seat. It was a conversation for later, once he understood the actual size of the problem.
He used the key you gave him the first day you moved in.
He let himself into the apartment a little after one in the afternoon and stood in the entryway for a moment just breathing the place in, coffee snd the warmth of a lived in apartment in summer.
He didn't unpack. He sat down on the couch with his boots still laced, jacket still on, and waited.
You came home first, a little after three, keys jangling, humming something under your breath before you'd even gotten the door fully open and then you saw him and the sound cut off into something bright and delighted, and for a moment none of the rest mattered at all. You crossed the room fast, half a laugh already escaping you, and folded into him with your whole body the way you always did. He wrapped an arm around you and breathed you in properly for the first time in a month, and something in his chest that had been wound tight since the transit finally loosened, just slightly but it was enough.
"You didn't say you were coming," you said into his shoulder, half accusation, entirely pleased.
"I wanted to surprise you." That part, at least, was true.
You settled into his side on the couch, legs tucked up, head finding his chest like it had a reservation there, and told him about your week. He listened to all of it with one hand moving slow through your hair and the other resting loose against your hip, and underneath the listening, underneath the genuine warmth of having you back in his arms, some older and more watchful part of him stayed fixed on the door.
He heard the key before you did. A second of hesitation on the other side of it, a small pause of someone checking a doorknob, unremarkable to anyone who hadn't spent the last several weeks learning this particular man's habits off a camera feed, then the lock turned, and the door opened. Caleb got his first look, in person, at the man that had been living rent free in the back of his head since the closet.
He was bigger than the footage had suggested. That was Caleb's first thought, purely tactical, the assessment running before anything else had a chance to. Broad through the shoulders, glasses fogged from the heat outside, a bakery bag hooked over two fingers like he'd planned a small kindness for the afternoon he had no idea was about to be interrupted. He looked, Caleb thought, exactly like what you'd described. Soft and harmless.
Caleb had spent two days watching him come apart with your underwear pressed to his face. He was not interested in the soft version.
He watched Valko's whole body go still in the doorway, watched the moment recognition landed and something flicker fast and unguarded across his face before it slammed back down into something more careful. His grip on the doorknob went white at the knuckle. His chest rose once, sharp, trying to solve the room through his lungs before his eyes had finished the job.
Caleb didn't move. He let the silence stretch and watched Valko's eyes cut once toward the couch —toward you, tucked against his side, laughing at something he'd said before Valko walked in— and then back to Caleb, dark and assessing, doing a poor job of hiding either.
Good, Caleb thought. Let him look.
You were the one who broke the tension. You sat up, delighted, already making introductions.
"Good to meet you," Caleb said. He'd practiced the tone in his head the whole way over, and it came out exactly as unbothered as he'd wanted it to.
Valko's hand closed around his and it wasn't what he'd braced for. He'd expected tension, maybe something petty and territorial passed hand to hand like men sometimes did it, a grip held a second too long, knuckles pressed a little too hard. What he got instead was entirely outside of anything he had a category for, a kind of current running up through his palm.
He watched Valko's pupils blow wide. Watched his knees go soft, just barely, enough to notice the shift in his weight before Valko managed to correct it. Watched two years of careful, controlled devotion crack visibly down the middle in the space of about four seconds, right there in front of him, right there in front of you, and you hadn't noticed a single second of it. Not even the bulge forming in Valko's pants.
"Something wrong?" Caleb asked. Almost bored. He wanted Valko to hear exactly how little this was costing him, even though it wasn't remotely true.
Valko didn't answer. He pulled his hand back too fast, said something about a lab, something he'd forgotten, already retreating toward the door before the sentence finished coming out of him, and then he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him.
Caleb sat back down on the couch beside you, pulled you back into the space against his side like nothing at all had happened, and kept his voice easy while you laughed and wondered aloud what had gotten into him.
He was still smiling by the time you settled back against his chest. It didn't reach anywhere past his mouth. Somewhere underneath the calm he'd built for your benefit, he was turning that handshake over and over, trying and failing to make it mean anything less than what it had felt like — and understanding, with clarity, that whatever this was, it had just stopped being only about you.
---------------------
Valko didn't come back that night, or the next. He called you Saturday morning, and Caleb was close enough on the couch to catch your unbothered "oh, no worries, family stuff happens" and gathered from the rest of the conversation that Valko had suddenly needed to go home for the weekend. Something about his mother needing help with some family stuff. You'd relayed it to Caleb after, propped against the kitchen counter with your coffee, not thinking twice about it. "He's probably just giving us space," you said, half smiling, already moving on to what you wanted him to cook for dinner.
Caleb made a low agreeable sound into your hair and thought that "giving space" was an interesting way to describe a man circling the block.
Because he'd seen him from the window. That morning, unmistakable, even from half a block off, standing on the opposite corner with his phone out and not actually looking at it. Not going in. Not going anywhere. Whatever internal negotiation was keeping Valko rooted to that corner instead of walking the last fifty feet home, Caleb wasn't in any hurry to interrupt it. It told him plenty on its own.
He used the rest of the weekend well.
He started in the kitchen, because it was the room that most obviously belonged to someone else. Caleb cooked for you Saturday and Sunday with his sleeves shoved up, moving through the space like he had every right to it, and when he was done he didn't wipe the counter down the way he usually would. He let his palms rest flat against the surface a bit longer than necessary. Nothing you'd notice. Everything a nose that had spent two years cataloguing this apartment down to its smallest note would.
He hung his jacket over the back of the chair Valko used the most. He left the jacket there for two days and didn't move it.
The bathroom he didn't think twice about using. What he did on Sunday sfternoon, though, midway through a shower with the water running loud enough to cover the sound, was something closer to instinct than plan. He stood there with the water running down his back and thought about everything he'd watched over the last two years. A man who could smell what others couldn't, Caleb reasoned, half serious and half not, might be able to smell this too. So he did it, he took a piss right there, telling himself the whole time it was an experiment and nothing more, then stepped back into the spray, rinsing the tile down like nothing at all had happened, filing the thought away with something that wasn't quite a smile.
Valko came back Sunday night. Caleb heard the key turn from the couch and he didn't get up. He sat with one arm along the back of the couch, ankle crossed over his knee, and let the silence stretch as long as it needed to before Valko finally pushed the door open.
Valko's shoulders were doing something different this time. Something tighter, a man arriving already braced for whatever he was about to walk into.
"Evening"
Valko didn't answer right away. His eyes moved once around the room —Caleb's jacket still slung over his chair, a mug left unwashed on the counter— and something crossed his face. Recognition, maybe. The kind that arrives when a man realizes the target he'd assumed was passive has started, without any warning at all, to fight back.
"You're still here," Valko said. Careful.
"Weekend leave, figured I'd make the most of it."
He watched Valko's jaw work, watched him fight against whatever had risen up first. Valko set his bag down slow and made no move to come any further into the room.
"She's asleep," Caleb added, tipping his head just slightly toward your closed door. Valko's throat moved once, like he was swallowing something that refused to go down easy.
"Right," Valko said. "Good."
He didn't sound like he meant it. Caleb hadn't expected him to.
Neither of them said anything else. Valko crossed the room eventually, avoiding the couch like it was something that might bite him if he got too close. He disappeared down the hall, and his bedroom door clicked shut a moment later.
Caleb sat alone for a long while after that. Two years the other man had spent building something out of proximity and starved patience and Caleb had walked in and rearranged the entire foundation of it in less than seventy two hours.
It should have felt like enough. It didn't,not all the way. Some part of him, the part that had felt his own pulse jump under a stranger's grip in the middle of the living room, understood that this wasn't finished.
He got up. Turned off the lights. Went to bed in your room, in your sheets, in the space that —for tonight, at least— was unmistakably his.
He lay there for a while, listening to the apartment settle. You stirred beside him at some point, half asleep, murmuring something into the pillow, and he found himself watching you in the dim light coming through the blinds, patience finally running out of road.
He woke you up slowly, his mouth at your shoulder and your name low in his throat, and you came up out of sleep soft and pliant and already reaching for him, no hesitation in it at all, as if some part of you had been waiting even asleep. He didn't ask you to be quiet. That was the point. He kept his hands on your hips the entire time, murmured mine against your skin over and over again, except tonight he let the headboard knock against the wall it shared with the hallway, and let your voice carry further than it usually did, and didn't do a single thing to soften either.
Down the hall, Valko lay flat on his back with both hands pressed over his own face, listening to every second of it, breathing in a room that no longer smelled like only you, and understood that he had just lost the first real skirmish of a war he hadn't known he'd already started.
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