Archive of Our Own

The hotel suite is a far cry from anything your Hunter’s salary could ever afford. Floor-to-ceiling windows stretch across one side of the lounge room, framing an uninterrupted view of Skyhaven and its impressive skyline glittering in the last golden stretch of afternoon light. Up here, wrapped in luxury, it’s an easy thing to forget how complicated your life really is.

You turn from the view just as your mobile chimes from across the room. The midnight navy material of your cocktail dress whispers against your legs as you cross the plush, cream carpet. You retrieve your mobile from your matching clutch. 

A short message from Caleb lights up your screen: ready to go?

You tap out a reply - yeah! - your manicured nails clicking softly against the screen. When the screen fades to black, your reflection stares back. You’re grinning. 

There’s a nervous energy that dances just beneath your skin, like static. You quickly gather the last of your things for the evening. Your phone goes back into your clutch, nestled between your lipstick and compact and leaving just enough room for you to slide in your hotel room’s cardkey. You’re just grabbing your shawl from a nearby armchair when there’s a short knock at your door. 

“I was just about to open the door for you,” you laugh as you open the door and step out into the hallway. 

It’s Caleb, of course. He’s in his formal uniform, his dress whites - the one that always takes your breath away when you see him in it. Now is no exception. 

He looks unfair.

His formal overcoat, crisp and fitted, bears his rank as Colonel across one shoulder like a quiet warning. It’s belted neatly around his waist and across his broad chest. You can see his tie knotted at his neck, and the hallway lights catch on the gold trim of his uniform, glinting off polished hardware and decals as he shifts his weight to one side. His tailored slacks disappear into sleek, knee high boots polished to mirror shine. His hat and gloves are tucked beneath one arm, his other hand casually relaxed at his side. 

You smile up at him, but his eyes don’t meet yours. Not because he’s not looking at you. He is.  

His gaze trails down the glittering neckline of your dress, lingering at the place where the glossy fabric hugs your waist before flaring gently down your hips. Heat blooms across your chest - but it isn’t unpleasant. Not with the way he’s watching you, eyes fixed on the rise and fall of your breathing like it’s the only thing that matters. 

“Sorry, did you say somethin’?” he asks with a chuckle, shaking his head like he’s trying to clear it. His eyes finally meet yours - sparkling and warm, like a summer sunset. He places his hand on the small of your back and lets his gaze drift again, but this time it’s intentional - almost performative. “Not bad.”

“Stop,” you playfully swat at his shoulder, but he doesn’t move. 

“I’m serious,” he says, his voice softer now. His hand presses a little firmer into your waist. “You look beautiful.”

But then before you can say anything else, he scoffs and pulls away. “No comment, huh?”

A stray hair slips free from your updo and tickles the side of your cheek. You tuck it behind your ear. “On what?”

He gestures at himself with mock offense. “On me.” 

He looks every bit the part of a decorated officer. Powerful, untouchable. Stupidly handsome. The kind of man people photograph, frame, and salute.

You roll your eyes and adjust your bracelet so it sits more comfortably on your wrist. “You look… fine,” you tease.

“Fine, huh?” His voice is light, but the tilt of his mouth promises mischief. And you can already tell: it’s going to be like this all night. This back and forth. 

“I guess. We should get going,” you say, trying to put an end to it for now. 

Caleb smirks as he falls into step beside you. The hallway is quiet, and through one of the windows you catch a glimpse of outside sky. The winter sun is setting quickly; evening’s not far off. 

“I just think it’s not very fair,” Caleb begins again, pressing the elevator button. “That all I get is fine when I said you look beautiful.”

Not the end of it, then. “So I don’t look beautiful, Caleb?”

He scoffs again, eyes closing briefly. “You look stunning.”

“You sound desperate for a compliment,” you say, just as the elevator arrives. The doors open with a soft chime.

“Not desperate,” he corrects lightly as he steps in just behind you. You’re alone in the lift, and you watch him press the button for the ballroom level.  When he speaks next, his voice is pitched lower, edged with amusement. “Just wonderin’ if you can admit the truth.”

You tilt your head, feigning confusion. “Which is?”

Oh, this is a dangerous game.

Caleb steps in, closer than necessary, turning to face you fully. You’d retreat a step if you could, but the mirrored panel at your back leaves you with nowhere to go. You feel the warmth from his body like a low hum against your skin, and this close you can smell the clean, expensive bite of his cologne. Your gaze drops to his mouth again, just as it tilts into a smug little smirk. 

“That you think I look good.” 

You refuse to look away. 

“I think,” you say slowly, lifting your eyes to meet his. “That you should stop fishing for compliments and re-do your tie.”

“My tie is fine, princess” Caleb says without missing a beat.  

You hum. “Is it, though?”

The elevator comes to a smooth stop, but it’s enough to jolt you both out of whatever…this is. Caleb glances at his reflection in the mirrored panel and laughs because his tie is, of course, perfectly done. 

You both step out into the grand hallway, bustling with people and opulence. Officers in uniform of varying ranks and glamorous guests make their way toward the grand ballroom where tonight’s Farspace Fleet Gala is being held. 

Caleb holds his hand out for you with an easy smile, and you take it.

"You look handsome, Caleb. You always look handsome.”

The compliment lands the way you’d hoped. His chest puffs just slightly, eyes brightening with something soft and satisfied. He stands a little taller. 

“I know,” he winks. “I just like hearin’ you say it.”

Before you can retort, a small group of officers - Caleb’s rank, some with dates accompanying them - approach with casual familiarity. It’s obvious they’re his friends. You’re smiling when Caleb turns to you and slips his arm around your waist. He introduces you to the group.

One of them, a man with tousled blonde hair and a roguish smile looks you over. “So this is the sister we’ve heard so much about.”

“Not by blood,” you say, smile still in place but suddenly stiff. Your tone matches the friendly vibe around you, but the shift in your body says otherwise. You can feel the weight of Caleb’s gaze on you. “We just… grew up together.”

“We’re not biologically related,” Caleb clarifies, almost too quickly. His thumb presses lightly against your side and you’re not sure if it’s meant to be soothing or possessive. “But we are kinda like brother and sister, we were raised together like siblings.”

The group eats it the fuck up, like it’s all totally, perfectly endearing. You see one woman press her hand to her heart while her friend croons that’s sooo sweet like it’s the most wholesome thing they’ve ever heard.

You keep smiling, but your skin prickles because there’s nothing brotherly in the way Caleb has been looking at you tonight, nothing sisterly in the way your gaze keeps dropping hungrily to his mouth.  

You don’t know exactly when it changed. For you, maybe sometime after you turned twelve or thirteen and all your friends started talking about their crushes and you realised that their butterflies sounded like the ones you got around your brother, around Caleb. Or maybe later, when he’d come home from university taller, broader, muscular - and magnetic in a way no one else could be. 

For him, though? You feel like Caleb has always been Caleb. Always teasing you, always needling reactions out of you. Except somewhere along the way, his gaze started lingering. His touches held heat, and the reactions he seemed intent on eliciting from you started to feel like they were meant to end in a kiss. Maybe. You can only guess, after all. 

“Let’s figure out where we’re sitting, yeah?” one of the officers says, cutting through your daze. He’s gesturing to the ballroom entrance where the crowd is thickening. “I think around now is when they want us all to be in our seats for dinner.”

Everyone agrees, and the group begins to drift towards the entrance. The blonde officer looks back at you, letting his eyes rake over your dress with a grin. “Nice meeting you. Let’s all catch up later, if your brother allows it.”

“Un- fucking -believable,” Caleb mutters under his breath, his tone surprisingly sharp with irritation. Before you can say anything, his arm tightens around you and he leans in close. 

“Be careful with some of these guys,” he murmurs into your ear. “They can get real…inappropriate, especially a few drinks in. Especially that one.”

But you just roll your eyes. “I’ll be fine, but thanks for the warning.”

Caleb’s reaction is only slightly perplexing as his expression darkens. “What do you mean?”

“What do I mean?” you echo, caught off guard. You’re getting closer to the entrance. You can see a smartly dressed steward checking people’s names off on a tablet and directing them to their assigned table for the evening. “I mean, I can take care of myself. I’m a Hunter, Caleb, not a child.”

You thought your words would be reassuring. You hunt literal cosmic horrors for a living, after all. But instead of relaxing, Caleb’s jaw tightens and you can tell that there’s a storm raging inside his head. Over what, you have no idea. 

“Hey,” you say gently. You’re almost at the front of the line now. “Everything is fine, Caleb. I’m with you, after all. No one will bother me when we’re together.”

That gets through to him. His expression softens into something bashful, like he’s a little embarrassed to have been so worked up.

“Sorry. You’re right. You know I can’t help but worry about you, and especially when you look like this,” he says as the two of you step up to the steward. Caleb turns to the steward and, instead of giving your names, says “you agree, don’t you?”

You are suddenly mortified. The steward politely frowns in confusion. “Sir?”

“My date,” Caleb says. He gestures at you with the hand not currently around your waist, utterly unbothered.  “Beautiful, right?”

You can’t tell if you want to die or bathe forever in whatever warm, glowy feeling this is. 

The steward, to his credit, recovers quickly. “Indeed, sir. Names?”

Caleb gives him your names, and you - still flushed with embarrassment and, perhaps, the tiniest thrill of delight - take the moment to peer into the ballroom as the steward finds and checks your names off his tablet. 

It’s massive. The ceiling is high and vaulted with glittering chandeliers casting golden light over the sea of Farspace Fleet officers, high-ranking officials, and polished socialites who weave through the crowd like they belong here more than anywhere else. You can see that the space is divided—one half set for formal dining, the other an open dance floor where couples already move to the slow hum of a string ensemble. Beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, a terrace glows with strung up fairy lights that twinkle and glow as the outside sky deepens into twilight. 

Your spine straightens instinctively as you and Caleb step inside, and you have to resist the urge to fidget under the weight of so many eyes sweeping over you. Do they think you’re his lover? Or his sister? 

Caleb walks beside you with the kind of quiet confidence that draws the attention of others as you pass. He belongs here. 

You’re not sure if you do.

You feel the gentle press of Caleb’s hand on the small of your back. He murmurs your name.

“Looking nervous, pipsqueak,” he says, voice just for you. The nickname has you curling your fingers into tight fists. Your nails bite into your palm. “You okay?”

You shoot him a look. “Don’t call me that. I’m fine.”

He smirks. “If you say so.”

Before you can retort, a different steward in a sleek black uniform approaches and gestures toward your assigned table. Five seats, each with fine china and shining silverware set before them. The place cards indicate that you and Caleb are seated together.

Another guest is already seated—a woman with rich chestnut hair that spills over her shoulders and down her back in loose, romantic curls. Her full, red lips are curved in a smile as she casually scrolls through something on her mobile. Her dress is a deep emerald green, elegant and undoubtedly expensive, its neckline plunging and daring. 

As you and Caleb reach the table, her eyes flick up to assess the two of you. Her cool appraisal instantly thaws when she lays eyes on Caleb.

“Oh, Colonel,” she exclaims, quickly setting her phone face down. She rises with a smooth, catlike grace and watches as Caleb pulls out your chair for you before he starts to unbuckle and remove his uniform coat. “I had hoped I’d see you here tonight.”

Caleb offers her an easy smile as he drapes his jacket over the back of his chair, just as you’ve done with your shawl. “Hey Rebecca, it’s been awhile.”

You try not to react but inside you seethe with something ferocious and ugly. You’ve never heard of her before, but judging by the way she places a perfectly manicured hand on Caleb’s arm, she knows him. Her short nails are painted a deep crimson. 

Her eyes flick to you. The smile she gives is pretty, but unreadable. “And this must be your sister.”

It shouldn’t even matter. Who cares if she thinks you’re his sister? But this woman is everything you’re not: beautiful in a way that’s almost cruel, wielded like a weapon. She’s glamorous in the way airbrushed models are, dripping in jewels, dress leaving nothing to the imagination and moving with a liquid grace that makes you think she could have everyone in the room falling in love with her with just a swish of her luscious hips. Including you, maybe, if you weren’t so busy being jealous about whatever the proximity it is that she shares with Caleb.

It would be polite to simply say hello back, introduce yourself. Instead, you return her smile with something sharper. “I’m not his sister.”

Rebecca raises a sculpted brow, eyes flicking between you and Caleb as if reevaluating something. The corner of her mouth curves. “Ah.”

Whatever that means.

“Where’s Selene?” Caleb asks, glancing around. “We should sit, looks like they’re about to start serving.”

Rebecca takes her seat, gracefully folding her napkin over her lap, and you move to sit beside Caleb.

“She just stepped out to take a call,” Rebecca replies smoothly, just as the waitstaff begins laying out appetisers at the next table. 

“Hopefully the last one for the evening,” Caleb quips before he and Rebecca break out into light laughter like they’re sharing an old, silly joke. You feel Caleb’s hand land on your knee and squeeze. “Don’t worry,” he murmurs, turning to you. “I won’t be taking any calls while I’m with you tonight.”

“Excuse me,” Rebecca says, looking up at the waiter just as he sets a delicate arrangement of hors d’oeuvres in front of her. “My wife’s just stepped out to take a call, but she is sitting here - would you mind leaving a plate for her as well?”

The waiter does so, and your stomach fucking plummets. 

Her wife.

Your eyes zero in on Rebecca’s hands. No ring.

And it’s like Rebecca can read your mind because she says to Caleb, “I took my rings to that jeweler you recommended down in Linkon, for resizing? I’d hoped that they would be ready for tonight, but.” She pouts, before thumbing open her phone. She leans over and shows you a photo on Instagram of her posing like a jewelry model, her fourth ring finger adorned with the biggest rock you think you’ve ever seen, with a matching wedding band glittering in front of it. 

“Oh wow, beautiful,” you hear yourself saying. 

Your cheeks heat before you can stop them. All that ugly jealousy that’s been simmering in your chest fizzles out in an instant, replaced by the sick, painful realisation that you’ve made a complete ass out of yourself. 

A waiter sets the same plate of appetisers before you, but your appetite has vanished. You don’t just feel stupid. You feel guilty. You walked into this beautiful ballroom with the world’s most obvious chip on your shoulder and now everyone can see it sliding off and crashing to the marbled floor. 

You’d judged her just because she was beautiful and confident and spoke to Caleb like she knew him. Because she does know him . 

Selene arrives a few moments later. She looks to be a few years older than Rebecca and is dressed in a smartly tailored maroon pantsuit, with one of her hands on the arm of a silver-haired, older man dressed in a heavily decorated uniform signalling him as a retired Admiral. 

“Look who I found!” Selene announces brightly, gesturing to the man before leaning down to kiss Rebecca. “I was just getting off the phone with the Academy, and who do I see? Admiral Firestone!”

Admiral Firestone chuckles, taking his seat before spreading his arms apologetically. “How many ballrooms can one hotel really have? I got lost.”

The whole table laughs - even you, though it feels strange and far away, like your body’s on autopilot. Caleb touches your back gently, and you register him introducing you to everyone, but the words don’t fully land. 

You excuse yourself after the appetisers are cleared. 

When you push the door open to the ladies' room, you’re greeted with a full powder lounge. Gilded sconces glow softly over gleaming vanities and velvet, jewel-toned chairs. You collapse into one of the seats and catch sight of your reflection in the vanity mirror. To give yourself some credit, you do look like you’re holding it together. 

Barely. 

You have got to calm down. You feel like there’s a wild animal trapped inside of you, snarling and barking up against your ribs, trying to claw its way up and out of your throat. You snap open your clutch and pluck out your compact. You start pressing the powder puff against your face with more force than necessary, but your skin has gone oily from stress. 

You want to have a good time tonight. Caleb invited you to this special event as his guest. As his date. He paid for your hotel room, took time off work to spend with you. He called you beautiful, he called you stunning. 

But it’s not enough. 

Or is it that you’re not enough?

The thought mercilessly carves straight through your gut and your hand stills. Is that it? Is that why things with Caleb never move past teasing and tension? Because you’re not good enough to be more to him - only good enough to be his sister, not someone he could actually want the way you want him. 

You look again at your reflection. Your eyes are too bright, flashing with something a little wild but your makeup is still intact. Subtle highlight glints off the high planes of your cheekbones, the inner corners of your eyes, the bridge of your nose, your cupid’s bow. Your eyes are winged with liner, the outer corners tastefully smoked out in subtle plum. Your lips are softly tinted with just a touch of gloss. 

You look good. Maybe not as good as someone like Rebecca, but you look good .

But maybe not good enough. 

A soft voice interrupts your spiral. 

“Everything okay, babe?” Rebecca slides gracefully into a chair beside you. She catches her own reflection with practiced tilt of her head just before she turns to you. There’s nothing smug or superior in the way she looks at you, just kind curiosity. “The Colonel seemed worried about you, sent me in to check.”

You watch as your cheeks flush red with embarrassment - something that’s been happening a lot this evening. 

“I’m fine. Sorry, it’s just, uh -” you make a vague gesture. “I got a little…overwhelmed in there all of a sudden. You know, with the…lights? I’m sorry if I seemed, uhm. Short. When Caleb was introducing us.”

But Rebecca just waves a dismissive gesture as she pulls out a sleek tube of gloss from her own clutch. “Oh, don’t worry -  I get it,” she says before applying the gloss on her lips until they shimmer. “Selene is the same, she can’t stand all the different sounds and lights. She’ll probably be in here later taking a break from it all. Anyway.” 

You watch in a daze as Rebecca caps her gloss. She gives her reflection one last look before she turns slightly towards you. 

“He’s crazy about you, you know.”

You blink. “What?”

“Caleb,” she gestures loosely with the gloss. “He’s not exactly subtle, you know?”

The noise you make is undignified, kind of like a squawk. “I think we’re talking about a different Caleb.”

Rebecca just smiles, like you’re being funny on purpose. 

“To be fair, most of my info is secondhand from Selene. But the three of us meet up on the weekends sometimes here in Skyhaven when he’s free - which is, you know, rare - and he just talks about you constantly,” she says offhandedly, like it’s not meant to be a bombshell. “If it weren’t for his phone wallpaper and background and all those other cute pics of you two, Selene and I would wonder if you were even real. You guys are so cute together.”

You forget to breathe. 

“He’s…I mean, we…” you let out a frustrated noise and try again. “He’s never said anything. About us being…more.”

“Babe, that’s because he’s a man.” Rebecca’s tone is breezy and camp, but not unkind. She shrugs as she drops her gloss back into her clutch. “Caleb is charming, brilliant, terrifying in the field - but when it comes to feelings?” She gives you a conspiratorial look. “Hopeless.”

“I dunno,” you laugh weakly. “I just think he’s just so used to looking out for me, being protective of me. That’s kind of his thing.”

“Sure,” she says, eyes glinting. “But he isn’t all over everyone else and constantly touching them the way he is with you.”

You freeze. 

Rebecca leans back in her chair, a little smirk tugging at her lips. “I haven’t known Caleb as long as you have, but I have seen him charm a room full of diplomats, rescue his subordinates out of burning wreckage, stand up to a superior officer for disrespecting a distressed civilian. I have never seen him get flustered over anyone the way he is with you.”

Oh. 

And for a moment, the raging beast in your chest stills behind your ribs.

“You clearly mean something to him,” she adds. “And trust me, if he sees you as just a sister, then that hand-on-your-knee moment was weird.”

That punches a laugh out of you. 

Rebecca squeezes your hand before standing. 

“They’ve probably just started plating the first course. I’m going to head back and steal my wife back from Admiral Firestone before she tries to adopt him,” she tosses a wink over her shoulder as she heads for the door. “See you soon, babe.”

You sit for a few more minutes before gathering yourself together. No more being jealous and insane. 

You pull the door open and nearly crash straight into Caleb. 

“Oh!” your hands fly to your throat. “You startled me.”

“Sorry,” he says like he means it. His eyes sweep over you, brows drawn with concern. “Everything okay?”

You nod too quickly. “Yeah, sorry - I was just feeling…Well, it’s fine. I’m fine now.”

“You sure?” he asks, quiet but steady. There’s something in the way he’s looking at you that makes your throat tighten and your teeth ache. You want to fold into him, lean into his warmth. What you wouldn’t give to just melt into him. 

But you can’t melt into him, so you smile sweetly up at him instead. “I’m sure, Caleb.”

He exhales, almost like he’s forgotten to breathe for a second. His gaze lingers on your face, something flickering behind his eyes before he looks away. You notice then that his tie - perfectly straight before - is now just slightly off-center, like he’s tugged at it at some point without thinking. 

You tsk. “Okay, I’m not joking this time - you need to fix your tie.”

Caleb glances down, then lets out a low laugh. He braces one hand against the marble wall behind you and considers his reflection in the polished surface. 

“You’re right, princess. Fix it for me?”

You blink. “What?”

He says your name low and gentle and shivers ricochet down your spine. “Please?” 

And suddenly, in front of anyone who might glance over, his fingers are at his collar, undoing the knot with smooth, practiced motions. He slips it from his collar in one fluid movement and holds it out to you, his sunset eyes never leaving yours. There's a challenge in his expression that you think has very little to do with your skill in tying a tie. 

With a sigh you take the tie from his hands, fingers brushing his as you do. He steps in close and the world narrows the same way it did earlier in the elevator. The hum of music from the ballroom, the chatter of conversation, the gentle sound of silverware against china fades to the periphery, replaced by only by the intensity and heat of his gaze and the steady, thunderous beat of your heart.  

You loop the tie around his neck. He’s tall enough that you have to tilt your chin up to meet his eyes, and you give the ends of the tie the smallest, teasing tug and his eyes flash with something that makes you want. 

His hands settle on your waist. But then they slide lower, so they’re sitting on your hips, and you remember the conversation you just had with Rebecca. About how he’s crazy for you. 

Your fingers tremble slightly as you fold the fabric into place. Caleb’s watching you, gaze drifting from your hands to your lips to your eyes and back again. Like he’s cataloguing you, memorising you. 

“You’re shaking,” he murmurs. 

You scowl, reflexive. “You’re annoying.”

He huffs a quiet laugh. “Cute.”

You ignore that. “Perfect,” you remark, patting the knot and letting your hands fall away. 

But Caleb doesn’t move. His hands press a little firmer into you before he raises one of them to your face. 

“Thank you,” he says softly. That same strand of hair from earlier has come loose again, and he twists it around his finger before tucking it gently behind your ear. His thumb caresses the spot between where your ear meets your jaw. “Shall we head back?”

With the way he’s touching you, you would probably do anything he asked in that moment. You nod dumbly. 

By the time you return to the table, the first course has been served. Caleb pulls out your chair like a gentleman and you feel every eye at the table flick to the two of you. Your body is still warm from his touch, the ghost of his hands still pressed against your hips. 

Selene picks up the conversation where it left off, but you’re too out of the loop to follow. 

“Selene works on base as a researcher,” Rebecca explains to you from across the table. “Contracted by the Fleet doing things way too smart for me to keep up with.”

Selene snorts. “It’s really not that dramatic. We’re working on a project about long-term resource optimization for Deepspace vessels. It’s - Becca, stop laughing - just math!” She pauses for a moment. “And arguing with engineers.”

“She’s being modest,” Caleb adds, reaching for his glass of wine. “The Fleet wouldn’t have solved half the issues we’ve had with Deepspace travel if it weren’t for Selene and her team.”

You glance at Selene, who shrugs like it’s no big deal. “See? Math.”

“And arguing with engineers,” Rebecca supplies.

As the next course is cleared and the main course is served, the conversation shifts again. Admiral Firestone joins in, his voice steady and weathered, and the table naturally falls into a rhythm that orbits around him. It’s easy to see why - he has the air of someone who’s lived through more than he’ll ever let on. You notice the way Caleb listens to him - attentive, respectful. You get the sense that Firestone is someone that Caleb really looks up to. 

Sometime after your second glass of wine, you realise that you’re finally enjoying yourself. The conversation flows, laughter blooms in easy waves, and you feel lucky - lucky to be here, seated beside Caleb, surrounded by people who clearly care for each other and the work they do. And Caleb…watching him like this, so at ease, so effortlessly charming - you love seeing him this way. And when he glances at you, something in his expression softens like you are his quiet harbour amidst everything else. 

The food is excellent and beautifully plated. Dessert is just getting cleared away and glasses topped up, when the lights dim. A soft chime rings out - elegant and unobtrusive - and a voice comes over the sound system to announce the commencement of the evening’s awards and commendations. Your gaze drifts over the crowd to the dance floor where you can see a senior officer acting as emcee standing with a microphone. Next to him stands an officer holding a tray draped in velvet. On the tray lie a number of medals gleaming softly in the low light. 

You look over at Caleb, and he gives you a rueful little smile, like he’s bracing for something. 

And then his name is called. 

Your heart does something silly as your body is flooded with pride. Around you, the room breaks into thunderous applause. Caleb rises smoothly and slips his uniform jacket back on. And just like that, he shifts into what you secretly call Colonel Mode - composed, cool, commanding. Completely magnetic. 

He strides to the dancefloor with calm, confident steps. He exchanges a salute with the officer-turned-emcee and accepts the medal with the poise and grace of a hero as it is pinned to the front of his uniform. The applause is long and loud. 

When he returns to the table, there’s a flush of warmth in his cheeks, though he tries to play it off.

“Caleb,” you try to keep your voice low. “You didn’t tell me that you were getting an award tonight!”

He chuckles, actually flustered. “Surprise,” he jokes. 

“I’m so proud of you,” you reach over and squeeze his hands. He squeezes back before interlacing your fingers.

The emcee continues naming recipients and their accolades, including Selene. She returns to their table with a wide grin before Rebecca gathers her in for a kiss. You can’t help but laugh with delight. 

The emcee concludes with the awards and gives a short spiel about a raffle and how everyone can join, if they want. The lights stay dim, but the music comes on a little louder than before and more upbeat. Champagne starts being refilled with an almost magical efficiency. The dance floor beckons just beyond the dinner tables. A few couples have already begun to move towards it, drinks in hand, while clusters of Fleet officers and guests gather around some of the tables to mingle. The sound of conversation is looser now, more raucous laughter punctuating the din than before. 

Caleb, suddenly, is a very busy man. One after another, people approach him offering handshakes and genuine congratulations. You hang beside him, sipping from your champagne flute, watching the way he accepts each interaction with that calm, capable ease. And even as people gather around him, his hand brushes yours now and then as if to remind you that he hasn’t forgotten where you are. 

You recognise the group of officers approaching now from earlier in the evening, especially the tall blonde man with the roguish smile. His hair is tousled now, like someone’s run their fingers through it too many times, his jacket is unbuttoned, and his tie is loose. His eyes are bright with mischief and alcohol. The other officers are in a similar state: flushed, loud, clearly a few rounds in and enjoying the night. 

“Colonel Caleb,” the tall one drawls, mock-formal. “Look at you, man. Proud of you.”

Caleb gives him a tight smile. “Damien. Having fun?”

“Oh yeah,” he says, and then turns his attention to you. His grin is more cocky than charming at the moment. “And here we have the mysterious sister. Still looking stunning.”

“I’m not his sister,” you remind him sweetly, looking up through your eyelashes. The officers guffaw like you’ve just landed the most epic punchline. Damien laughs, and his eyes don’t leave yours. 

“Well thank fuck for that,” he says. “Won’t need to ask his permission to take you for a dance then, right?” 

Caleb is mid-conversation with another officer now - someone more senior than him, judging by how decorated their uniform is and the way Caleb’s posture has shifted to attention. Still, you can feel the tension spike beside you. You glance at Caleb and although he’s fixed his expression into something respectful while the senior officer congratulates him, a muscle in his jaw ticks. His eyes flick to you and Damien, then back again. You can almost hear the unspoken don’t in the look, but you’re not sure who it’s directed at. 

Damien doesn’t seem to notice. Or care. He leans closer. “Come on, I’ll get you another drink.”

Before you can respond, a manicured hand wraps lightly around your forearm. 

Rebecca. 

“Hey, let’s get some drinks out on the terrace!” she says, chipper but with a hint of rescue in her tone. She glares daggers at Damien and the other officers. “With out you boys.”

You flash Damien a cheeky smile and let Rebecca drag you away. 

“Thanks,” you giggle as the music swells behind you. She leads you out through one of the tall glass doors and onto the terrace. As expected, it is a bit chilly out here but there are heat lamps stationed strategically around the space. Overhead, fairy lights crisscross in a dreamy lattice. Far above them, distant stars twinkle in the night sky. 

You and Rebecca settle at the edge of the railing, looking out over the lights of Skyhaven. Rebecca sips her drink and breathes deeply. You can’t believe that you thought she was her enemy. 

“He’s so obvious, by the way,” she says after a beat. 

You blink. “Who?”

She laughs into her glass. “Who do you think? I thought he was going to kiss you when he came back from getting his award.”

You snort, feeling a little lighter. A little tipsy. You let the silence linger between you, warm and companionable, until Rebecca checks her mobile. She makes a throaty noise of amusement. 

“As expected, my wife is holed up in the powder room. I’m going to go bring her something to drink and then I’ll be back. Don’t go anywhere.”

You salute Rebecca with your almost finished champagne flute. “I’ll be here.”

You lean back against the railing and drain the remains of your champagne to the sounds of Rebecca’s retreating footsteps. 

The fairy lights blur just slightly as you watch them. The buzz in your veins makes you feel slow, like warmth is sinking into your skin and like the night is folding around you. You turn to face the railing, your empty glass dangling from your fingers as you watch Skyhaven sprawl below you, glittering and alive as it floats through the sky. 

You hear footsteps behind you. 

“That was fast,” you say without turning. “Everything okay?”

But the voice that answers isn’t Rebecca’s. 

“Everything’s fine now that I’m out here with you.”

You turn your head, and Damien is standing beside you. He extends a new drink towards you. “Miss me?” 

You laugh lightly as you take it. 

“Thanks,” you say, cautious but polite. You take a sip and scan the rest of the terrace over the rim of your glass, noting the steady trickle of guests coming in and out of the ballroom. Surely Damien wouldn’t try anything inappropriate with all these eyes around.

“So, Caleb’s Sister,” but you can tell he’s saying it now just to tease you. “What is it that you do anyway? Colonel’s mentioned that you work down in Linkon.”

You smirk, turning slightly towards him. “Why are you so interested in what I do for work?”

He hums and takes a sip of his drink. “I’m not, really. I mean - I could be? Whatever it takes for you to keep talking with me.” 

It’s harmless enough. Maybe Caleb was being too uptight about you avoiding this guy earlier. You let yourself smile over the rim of your glass. 

“You’re part of Caleb’s unit?”

“Unfortunately,” he says with a mock sigh. “Not sure if you’ve noticed but man’s good at everything. Always makin’ the rest of us look bad.”

You chuckle. “I’m sure he doesn’t always make you look bad.”

“True,” Damien concedes. “But I didn’t come out here to talk to you about…your brother.”

“Stop it,” you laugh, but then Caleb is stepping into your periphery like a storm rolling in. Shoulders squared, set, expression unreadable and cold. Colonel Mode.

“Damien,” he says flatly. “Why don’t you go harass someone else, hm?”

The amusement Damien has been sharing with you slips from his face, replaced by mild surprise and just a touch of smugness. “Man, relax. What’s with you all of a sudden? We’re just talking.”

“Caleb, it’s fine,” you try to say, but he barely even glances at you. 

“Go back inside, Damien.”

Damien rolls his eyes. “Whatever. Didn’t realise she was claimed.” He shoots you an apologetic look before backing away, hands raised. 

Caleb doesn’t respond. He just stands there radiating something dangerous - something furious - until Damien disappears back into the ballroom. Then, he finally turns to you. His eyes are dark now, pure violet. 

“We’re leaving.”

Your jaw actually drops. “Excuse me?”

His voice is tight. Controlled. “Now.”

Your pulse jumps. This isn’t fair. You were all having such a great time, and he has no right to drag you away like this. You should tell him that.

Instead, you down the rest of your drink. The burn trails down your throat and settles in your stomach like kindling for a fire. You ignore it and lift your chin up at him, the same way you always do when you’re mad at him. 

“Fine.”

You trail after Caleb as he strides back into the ballroom without a word. His steps are clipped and he cuts through the revelry like a knife. If your heels allowed for it you would have to jog to keep up with him, but instead you rush after him, your pulse pounding in your throat.

No one really pays the two of you any attention; the ballroom is now in full-blown party mode. The music is louder than before, bass heavy, pulsing. The dance floor is packed with couples, clusters of officers laughing around tables littered with empty glasses of alcohol. Candles that you don’t remember being there before flicker amidst the centrepeices. You pass under one of the chandeliers and your skin is fractaled with prisms and spots of hectic gold.

The second you’re back in the grand hallway, thankfully empty, you snatch at his arm. 

“Seriously?” you hiss, breathless from exertion and anger. “Just because I was talking with Damien? What is wrong with you.”

Caleb keeps his gaze forward, and when he speaks next his voice is clipped and tight. “You shouldn’t have been out there alone with him.”

“I wasn’t alone. There were people everywhere. We were just talking.”

He stops so abruptly that you nearly stumble into him. Your heels wobble beneath you as you steady yourself. He turns, and his eyes still that dangerous shade of violet lock on to yours. 

“It wasn’t just talking.”

You fold your arms tightly across your chest, like you’re trying to brace against everything rising up inside of you. “You don’t get to decide who talks to me. And you definitely don’t get to act like this - treating me like I’m your little sister who needs your protection.”

His jaw tightens. “I’m not –”

“You are.” You cut in, voice sharp. “You always are. Except when -” you cut yourself off before you can say something you think you’ll regret. 

Caleb cuts the air with a sharp gesture back toward the ballroom. “He is not good enough for you.”

You laugh, but it’s cold and brittle. You’re not really thinking when you say, “then who is?” 

For a moment, neither of you move. The air between you feels electric, all the unspoken things between you charged and crackling like a live wire, like an exposed nerve. 

Then, wordlessly, Caleb drops his arm and turns. His shoulders are stiff with tension as he stalks towards the elevators. You follow, the only sound the click-clack of your heels against the marble floor and the distant throb of music behind you. You flinch at how hard he jabs the elevator button. 

You stand there in silence, your anger boiling and churning, your chest rising and falling too fast. The elevator arrives with a soft chime, and when the doors close behind you, you erupt.

“You’re such a hypocrite,” you spit. You’re being mean, and it feels good. “You act like I’m the one that needs to be looked after, when you’re the one who loses his mind the second someone else looks at me.”

Caleb laughs and it’s dry, incredulous. He turns to face you with a slow, dangerous grace and says your name like it hurts him - like it’s a curse.

“You think I want to feel like this?” 

The elevator hums upward, a subtle vibration beneath your feet. The small space is suddenly too warm. Distantly, you realise you’ve left your shawl in the ballroom. Not that you need it. 

Caleb takes another step towards you. 

“You think I enjoy watching fucking Damien try to flirt with you like that when I’ve spent the entire night trying to keep my hands off of you?” 

Time stands still. The sound of your breathing is loud in your own ears. If you could break away from Caleb’s molten gaze - impossible, at the moment - you might see yourself flushed with hectic colour in the mirrored panels. 

“What did you just say?” You whisper.

The elevator dings. It’s your floor. 

You step out, heart pounding so hard you’re actually dizzy. Caleb follows, silent but close. You can feel the weight of his presence behind you, the heat of his attention like a brand on the back of your neck. 

You stop at your door, but your hands are trembling so hard it takes two tries to open your clutch. 

“Don’t,” you say sharply, eyes flashing. “Don’t follow me in.”

He doesn’t move. “Then stop lookin’ at me like you want me to.” 

You gasp like he’s said something rude. Your fingers still on the lip of your clutch. 

“I don’t,” you lie.

Caleb is so close to you now. His gaze drops to your mouth before he reaches past you and plucks your room key out of your clutch and presses it against the door sensor. It beeps merrily and unlocks. He pushes the door and holds it open for you like a dare. 

“You do.” 

It’s like your body moves before your mind can catch up. You walk in, stunned, and it feels like your bones are alive with tension. Caleb follows, the door slamming shut behind him. 

The suite is just as you left it hours ago. Moonlight spills in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, bathing the space in an otherworldly light. 

“Y-You think you know everything,” you say, but your voice waivers. You swallow. “Don’t you.”

You watch as Caleb rakes his hand through his hair, pacing once, twice, before spinning back to face you. 

“Don’t,” he says, and the word lands like a warning. And maybe it’s something about being in your space because beneath his frustration, something smolders. Something raw and hungry. “Not when you’ve been looking at me like that.”

“God, you’re so arrogant,” you breathe, and for a wild second you don’t even know what the hell you’re both fighting about. You step towards him and his gaze drops again to your mouth before snapping back up. 

“You know exactly what you’re doing.”

It’s just the two of you and this charged, unspoken thing that’s been simmering between you, hotter and hotter. 

You want it to burn. 

You let your arms fall to your sides, and your clutch tumbles from your grasp and onto the carpet with a soft thud. 

“Why do you get to act like this,” you whisper. “Like I belong to you, when you spent the whole night pretending I don’t matter?” 

He flinches like you’ve struck him. His fists clench at his sides. “That’s not true.”

“Right,” you scoff, stepping closer. “You don’t want me, but you don’t want anyone else to have me either, is that it?”

He exhales sharply, dragging a hand down his face, shaking his head like he’s trying to shake the truth loose. “You don’t understand.” 

You’re so close now that you can feel the heat of his body bleeding into yours. You reach out, fingers skimming over his uniform, over his new medal. You can feel his heartbeat pounding. 

“Then make me understand.” 

Your fingers trail upward, slow and deliberate, over the strong plane of his chest, to the hollow of his throat. His skin is burning. His pulse thrums wildly beneath your fingertips.

You pop one of the buttons open on his uniform jacket. And then another. And then Caleb is grabbing your jaw and angling your face up to his and you actually almost moan.  

Caleb says your name. His face is so close to yours; you can feel his breath fan over your mouth. Even in the moonlight, you can see the faint smattering of freckles across his cheekbones, the bridge of his nose. 

“Caleb,” you reply smartly. You’re not thinking clearly, not with him this close, like this, not when all it would take is a tilt of your mouth for you to taste him. 

“What the fuck are you doing,” he grinds out. 

You roll your eyes and jerk your face out of his grasp so you can push his uniform jacket off his shoulders. To your delight, he lets it drop, heavy and careless like it means nothing. He doesn’t look away from you as he yanks loose his tie with one hand, the motion sharp and impatient. His muscles shift beneath the fabric of his shirt, broad shoulders rolling as he tosses the tie aside like it’s something offensive. You reach forward to pull the rest of his white dress shirt out from his trousers. Your hands slide upwards, palms sliding over his hot skin, obliques hard and defined under your touch. Caleb’s breath catches and you watch how his gaze jumps between your eyes, your mouth, your cleavage. 

“Stop treating me like a child,” you seethe, your voice trembling with need. “Stop treating me like your sister.”

Caleb’s breath stutters. His thumb brushes the corner of your mouth and lingers there as if debating his next move. His jaw tightens, his eyes flickering with something unreadable - until it isn’t. Until it’s hunger and need. 

“You think that’s what this is?” He rasps. “You think I look at you and see you as my sister?”

His fingers slide down, tracing the line of your throat, pressing just enough to make your pulse hammer. His other hand curls around your hip, dragging you forward until your bodies are flush. 

“I’ve spent years -” he growls. “Trying and trying and trying to forget how badly I want you. I told myself it was wrong. That I couldn’t have you. That I could never have you. But you want the truth?”

He tilts your chin up, eyes locked on yours.

“I don’t give a damn anymore.”

Caleb kisses you like he’s done this in his dreams a million times already - like he knows exactly how you taste, exactly how you’ll melt for him. His fingers caress back through your hair, undoing all the careful pins, and then he’s licking into your mouth, hot and hungry, and you feel like you are on fire. 

His grip on your waist tightens, but then his hands are roaming up your back before they settle on the zipper of your dress. You feel an easy tug as he unzips you and he’s still kissing you but it’s slow now, languid, the same as his movements as he slides the fabric of your dress off your shoulders. 

You push him away, just slightly so you have the space to let your dress fall around your feet in a soft sigh of fabric and Caleb stares. His breath stills as his gaze lands on the delicate lace of your bra, the curve of your naked waist, the luscious shape of your hips. You reach up behind you to undo your bra but Caleb stops you. 

“No,” he says, voice rough in a way you’ve never heard it. His throat bobs as he swallows hard. “Get in the bedroom.” 

You take his hand and lead him down the hallway. With every step, you can feel his eyes dragging over you, sliding down your figure to the matching little panties you’re wearing. You hear him swear. 

You sit, the mattress dipping beneath you, and scoot back towards the headboard so you can slowly recline into the pillows. You watch as Caleb pulls his uniform shirt up and over his head and your mouth goes dry. Moonlight spills through the windows, washing over him like liquid silver, catching on the sculpted lines of his torso, the ridges of his abs as they tighten and flex as he moves. The necklace you gave him ages ago, the one with the apple pendant, sways gently against his collarbone. Your eyes drop to the cut V of his hips that disappears below the waistband of his trousers. He kicks off his boots and only barely manages to undo his belt before he’s looking at you again, distracted and hungry.  

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he says in that low, dangerous voice as he crawls over you. You reach for him and arch into his touch as he kisses you again. This time, his hand drags up your stomach, slow and reverent like he’s afraid you might vanish if he moves too fast. His fingers trace the edge of your bra and he makes a low sound in his throat - half groan, half disbelief. 

“You drive me crazy,” he breathes against your mouth. “Always. And tonight -”

He doesn’t finish. The words dissolve into a kiss so urgent it steals the air from your lungs. You feel his hand curving around your ribs, just under the band of your bra, and you arch into him hard on instinct. 

Your fingers weave into his hair, tugging just hard enough to draw a low, breathy sound from deep in this throat. You pull him closer to you as he shifts to the side to mouth hotly against your jaw, then lower, dragging open kisses down the column of your throat. 

He pulls the cup of your bra to the side. When your nipple peaks out, his breath hitches - sharp - like he’s losing control just looking at you. And then he’s mouthing at your tits and you whimper as he drags his tongue over your skin, lavishing you like he’s making up for lost time. You finally reach behind you to unclasp your bra. Caleb pushes it impatiently off your body, replaces the place where the fabric had been with his tongue. You whisper his name, already so out of breath, your hands petting blindly at his hair, his neck - wherever they can reach. 

And then you feel the press of Caleb’s fingers as they dip below the waistband of your panties.

“Do you want this?” He murmurs against your mouth, his fingers pressing downwards. They are so close to where you want them to be. How many times have you made yourself come pretending your own fingers were his? 

“Yeah,” you say quickly. “Yes.”

You feel his mouth curve into a smirk against your lips. 

His fingers drag lower over your clit and it’s like you’re being burned alive from the inside by the sweetest fire. You spread your legs wider without thinking, your hips stuttering forward into his touch. You can’t hold back the soft whine you make and already his fingers make an obscene, slick sound as he rubs them against you again and again.  

“Holy shit,” he says under his breath, like he’s talking to himself. “You like that? You’re so wet.”

He fingers slick slow circles against your clit while pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against your neck and you think you might actually die. Your hips flex on instinct into his touch, like you can’t help it - and then he does something with his fingers, something wicked and clever that has you gasping and slamming your legs shut because it feels so good it’s teetering on overwhelming. 

“I’m sorry -” you pant, relaxing your thighs and releasing his trapped hand. 

“Relax,” he whispers. “It’s okay. Take this off.” 

You obey, sliding the garment off. Caleb immediately palms at your bare knees and opens your legs, exposing all of you to him. You can feel your face flushing as you watch his gaze drag and linger over the most intimate parts of yourself. One of his hands slides down your thigh and he ghosts the pad of his thumb over your folds. 

He opens his mouth to say something, but it’s like he forgets, distracted by how good it feels to touch you like this. 

And then he’s lowering himself and looking up at you between your legs. 

“Is this okay?” he asks, and yes it’s okay it’s more than okay but before you can say that his mouth is on you and your answer dissolves into a breathless moan. You feel him groan against you in response. There is nothing hurried in the way he mouths at your pussy, licks at your clit - just slow, deliberate worship as he eats you out like he’s trying to imprint your taste on his tongue.  

The slick, filthy sounds of his mouth on you fill the dark room. You huff out his name, arch your hips hard into his face, fucking desperate for more, chasing that delicious friction. Your fingers twist into his hair and tug - not to push him away, but to keep him right there. He loops one strong arm around the back of your thigh to spread you open more and you feel the fingers of his free hand brush against your entrance. 

“You want me to finger you at the same time?” Caleb pulls back and studies your flushed and wrecked expression. 

“Yeah,” you whisper. “Please.”

Caleb chuckles before looking back down at where his fingers have paused. He watches intently as he pushes two into you. 

“Fuck,” he mutters, eyes glazed, completely consumed by studying the slow pump of his fingers in and out of you. “You’re so wet. I guess you really want to come, huh?”  

“Caleb,” you whine. 

“Alright, alright,” Caleb finally lifts his gaze to yours before lowering his face back down. “Princess.” 

He presses two fingers into you and curls them upwards in slow, devastating strokes, his tongue wicked and relentless against you as you teeter just on the edge of climax. 

“I’m gonna -” you pant, and you twist your head hard to the side. Your thighs begin to shake, but Caleb holds you steady, his free arm anchoring you down as he works to undo you completely with his mouth and fingers. 

“Don’t stop,” you whisper your plea into the darkness like a prayer. Pleasure blooms electric and white hot, melting you from the inside out and fuck you want this to last forever. 

“Don’t stop,” you gasp, and you must sound panicked because the man you grew up calling your brother makes an encouraging noise as he laps wetly against you, as his fingers push in and out of you and, oh - 

Your orgasm crashes into you, slams up your spine and down through your core, ripping a cry from your throat. Your back bows hard off the bed but Caleb keeps his grip on you firm with his free arm still wrapped around the top of your thigh and he groans into you as you ride it out and come undone. Your fingers are threaded tight through his hair as you rock and grind yourself against his face, helpless to the pleasure that consumes you.  

When it finally starts to ebb, you collapse back into the mattress boneless and shaking. Your fingers release from Caleb’s hair, sore from how hard you were clenching them and you draw in a shaky breath. 

“Oh, good girl,” Caleb mouths against your clit, almost numb with overstimulation. He gives you a few more slow, lingering licks - gentle now, savouring - before sliding his fingers free, dragging them lazily through your slick folds once more, just because he can. 

“Caleb,” you murmur, unsure if it’s a warning or a plea.

You watch as he raises himself up and crawls over you. 

“I’m gonna make you do that again,” he whispers before kissing you. You can taste yourself on his tongue. 

“Yeah?” You say. Caleb hums. 

“Yeah. I think you can be louder. Right?”

You freeze, suddenly shy. “But what if someone hears?"

Caleb palms one of your breasts and squeezes. “You were actually really cute just now,” he continues like he didn’t hear you. “You were tryin’ so hard to be quiet, you made these sweet, soft little sounds until you came. But no one would think that you were getting eaten out by me, fingered by me, that you were coming on my face.” 

Oh. 

“Yeah,” you say dumbly. You’re still trembling, but you reach for him - only now realising he’s still wearing his trousers. Your hands slide down, tugging at the waistband because you want to touch. 

“If I saw you as just my sister, this would be really fucking weird, yeah?” he says as he strips off the last of his clothes. “Maybe kind of hot…” 

But you’re not listening. You’re both naked now and Caleb is…thick. The head of his cock is flushed, slick with precum. You wrap your fingers around him and his hips jerk forward into your touch. 

You look up at Caleb sweetly through your lashes and thumb at his cock. “When we still lived together, with Grandma,” you start to say, and Caleb’s eyebrows shoot up into your hairline because where are you going with this?  “Did you ever jerk off thinking about this happening?”

Caleb lets out a rough, unfiltered laugh. “Uh, yeah. And if I weren’t with you right now, like this?” he says, pushing you back into the mattress. “I’d be alone in my room back on base watching porn on my phone with my fist around my cock pretendin’ it’s us on the screen.” 

A breathless sound escapes from you - half laugh, half gasp (you did ask after all) - but then he’s kissing you again and the hot, heavy press of his naked body on top of you is already awakening another wave of need. You’re still catching your breath from his kisses, but your body is greedy, eager for more. 

His hand slides between your bodies to between your legs again and you give a little jolt, make a soft noise against his mouth. His fingers explore between your swollen folds, slow and unhurried now as he eases you into a second high. 

“Tell me what you want,” he says. He pulls his hand up from between your legs and licks them absently, focused on your expression. 

“I want you to fuck me.” 

Caleb stills for just a moment, like your words short-circuited something vital.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “I - shit, I don’t have condoms. Maybe I can text -” 

And then he’s actually moving off of you, but you wrap your legs around him to keep him still. You can feel his erection hard and warm against the inside of your thigh. 

“I’m on birth control,” you say. 

He goes silent as the words absorb into his brain. 

“Okay,” he whispers. “Right. Yeah. So, we can just -” He surges back into you with a kiss that’s urgent and messy, uncoordinated with want. You reach between your bodies and guide his cock through your slick folds, dragging it slowly over your clit, savoring the way your whole body shudders at the contact. He groans into your mouth, hips twitching like he’s barely holding on.  

So you angle your hips and press him lower, to the place where you’re already open and aching for more of him. 

And then he’s pushing his cock into you with short, rocking thrusts that have your toes curling with each one. 

“Fuck,” he swears. “I dunno if I can last long. Princess, you feel so fucking good.” 

You laugh breathlessly. “You better.”

That earns you a sharp, deep thrust and your cry is ripped from your throat. Caleb smirks against your cheek like he’s proud of himself for pulling that sound out of you. He rocks into you again and again and again until the room is filled with the slick slap of your bodies colliding. Each flex and snap of his hips has you breathless and panting. 

“Don’t be shy,” he pants, voice rough with restraint. “Tell me how good it feels to get fucked by me.” 

He draws back just enough to look down at you, at the flush across your cheeks, the fever-bright shine in your eyes, your pupils blown wide with desire. His gaze flicks lower, to how your tits bounce from the movement of your bodies coming together, to where his cock plunges wetly into you again and again. 

His thumb presses down in slow, torturous circles on your clit and you cry out. Your whole body seizes, trembling as heat coils tighter and tighter within you. Your nails dig crescent moons into his shoulders as he fucks you, the slick drag of his fat cock enough to make you sob. 

“I can’t -" you babble. “It’s so good, I can’t -”

“You can,” he growls, angling his hips just right. “You’re takin’ it so well. Look at you, so perfect.” 

His mouth finds yours again, all teeth and tongue, as you both breath each other in between gasps. Caleb hooks one of your knees over his elbow, and sinks in deeper, dragging a cry from your throat. He’s fucking you with reckless hunger now, chasing his own release, his own control fraying with every second. 

“Oh, you’re close,” he slurs against your mouth. “You’re so tight.”

He’s right. You’re close, you’re right there - your cunt fluttering wildly as you grind helplessly on his cock, the pressure curling hot and tight in your core. You just need - 

“Caleb,” you sob. “Please - I’m gonna -”

“That’s it, give it to me, princess,” he urges. 

You break.

Your back arches violently off the mattress, a deep bow that promises soreness when you awake tomorrow morning - but none if it registers. Not when your orgasm hits deep like this, like a detonation that strips you down to pure sensation. Your mind blanks, thoughts disintegrating into white-hot static as stars burst behind your eyelids. You can't control the sounds that spill from your open mouth as wave after relentless wave crests through you, the epicenter of this devastating bliss pulsing from deep within you. Caleb groans like he’s in pain, like your orgasm is pulling him under with you. But he doesn’t stop. He fucks you through it, the slap of his hips louder now, faster, messier as his fingers move in sync with every thrust to coax - to demand - every last spasm of pleasure from your body. 

And then he loses it.

“Shit - baby - I’m - fuck -”

His voice catches as his rhythm falters, hips snapping into you with frantic need. You feel the thick pulse of him inside you as he comes hard, spilling into you with a guttural moan. He buries his face in your neck, clutching onto you like he might fall apart without you there to hold onto. 

His weight presses you into the mattress, skin fever hot and slick against yours, both of you gasping, hearts hammering. 

You feel his cock twitch with overstimulation, still deep inside of you. He kisses your throat blindly, mumbling something that sounds like your name. And then, finally, he lifts his head just enough to meet your eyes. You thread your fingers into his damp hair and pull him down into a slow, lingering kiss, your body still trembling with afterglow. 

“I love you,” the words just tumble out, and tears sting at the corners of your eyes. Maybe you shouldn’t have said that, but Caleb just closes his eyes and holds you close. 

“I know,” he says into your hair. “I love you, too. I’m sorry I upset you tonight.”

You let out a watery laugh, muffled against his skin, because none of that matters anymore. Not when he’s holding you like this, like you’re something precious. 

He shifts his weight off of you as he pulls out. But then he’s gathering you in his strong arms, one hand stroking slowly up and down your spine, the other cradling your head as you press your cheek against his chest. You can feel the thud of his heart, less frantic now, slowing down to something steady and grounding, syncing with your own until your breath slows. Comfortable silence stretches between you but he doesn’t let go. You stay like that, wrapped in the safety of his arms until his voice breaks softly through the stillness.

“I should probably move,” he says with a reluctant chuckle. “I left my hat downstairs. On our table. I’ll get in so much shit if I lose it.”

You nod, eyes half-lidded. You move your head to peer up at him. “I left my shawl there, too.”

You both stare at each other before breaking out into laughter. 

“Just - give me fifteen minutes, okay?” Caleb says, grabbing his trousers off the ground and shucking them on. The apple pendant necklace comes unstuck from his sweaty skin then, swinging forward with his movement. “I’m just going to get our things, I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”

You laugh again. “I literally can’t move.” 

From the lounge, you hear him getting dressed: the rustle of fabric, the clink of a buckle. Then, the faint scrape of the keycard as he picks it up from the counter where he tossed it earlier. 

He comes back into the bedroom to pull on his boots before he holds up the keycard. “I’ll let myself back in with this, okay?”

“Okay,” you say. “If you see Rebecca, can you let her know I’m okay? She was going to come back to the terrace after checking on Selene but then all that happened with Damien and…”

“I will,” Caleb reaches over and cups your cheek before chuckling. “I kinda ruined your makeup.”

You blink, confused, and touch a finger to your lips. He grins fondly and kisses you again before slipping out the door.  

The room is suddenly so quiet. 

You make your way to the ensuite on shaky legs. After peeing, you catch your reflection and gasp before bursting out into laughter. Your eye makeup is smudged to your temples and smeared underneath your eyes. Your hair is a disaster, tangled and sticking up with bobby pins clinging on for dear life.

You laugh again, softer this time, and start the shower. The hot water is a balm, rinsing away sweat, stickiness, and the last lingering traces of tension in your body. 

When you emerge your hair is towel-dried, your skin is flushed and clean and you’re wearing one of the hotel’s fluffy white bathrobes. You crawl back into bed without bothering with fixing up the tangled sheets; you’re bone tired now, the kind of exhaustion you usually only feel after a particularly draining mission, but your body is heavy with a different kind of satisfaction this time. 

Caleb returns a short time later with his uniform hat and your shawl. After a quick shower of his own, you feel his warm, comforting weight settle close into bed next to you. 

“Hey,” he murmurs into your shoulder. 

“Hey,” you whisper back. 

You reach for each other without thinking, legs tangling, his arm sliding easily over your waist, finding its place through the fluffy folds of your bathrobe. 

Finally, you sleep.