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Caleb’s home is dark when you enter.
A cool night breeze wraps around you like a phantom embrace, urging you through the door. You let it carry you forward, squinting as your eyes adjust to the dim.
“Caleb?”
Your voice soaks into the carpet, heavy in the air. Silence is your answer. Something must’ve caught him at the Fleet headquarters, some emergency only the stone-cold Colonel could handle. If you’d told him you were coming he probably would’ve wrapped it up early. But he was always the one surprising you, showing up after missions like a stray cat only to slink back to his dark, silent home before midnight. He never stayed long, as if he was holding himself back. Even after you’d given him the key to your house, he’d linger only long enough to make your couch smell like his cologne.
It wasn’t fair. So you’d decided to level the playing field.
You quickly check the bedrooms, poking your head into his repair room just in case. He wasn’t home. Perfect.
You don’t know how much time you have. You dash to the couch, leaving quick spritzes of his favourite perfume on the pillows and blankets. You grab a glass and fill it with soda, making sure to get lipstick on the rim before leaving it and the empty can on the counter. You move some of his things- tools, a chair, a random remote- just subtly enough for him to tell someone has touched them. Finally, you grab an apple, taking a few bites before leaving it half-finished on the table. You think better of it- if you’d truly been here for an innocent visit, you would’ve cleaned up after yourself. You put the core in the bin instead.
Then, you hide. There aren’t a great many places to squeeze into, but the goal isn’t to stay hidden indefinitely. Just long enough to get his genuine reaction.
You don’t have to wait long. After only a few minutes of checking your phone, the lock at the door buzzes and clicks open. You shove your phone into your pocket, peeking out eagerly.
It isn’t Caleb who walks in. The Colonel shuts the door with more force than necessary, the slam rattling the window panes. His posture is stiff as he shrugs off his jacket, ditching it at the couch, hat following. He stays at the door for a moment, fiddling with his tie, kicking off his shoes. He takes a deep breath.
He freezes.
You feel a satisfied smirk on your lips as he slowly exhales, then inhales again.
“Pipsqueak?”
The lights flicker on, and you shrink back into your hiding space. A heartbeat thuds in your ear. Then another.
“I know you’re here,” he calls out again. “Are we really gonna play hide and seek?”
Huddled as you are, you can’t see him anymore. You can hear him though, stalking into the kitchen, picking up the glass.
“C’mon, you even left dishes for me? And you stole my apple. Glad to see you’ve made yourself at home.”
You hold your breath as he moves into the living room, so close to where you’re hiding. The pillows on the couch rustle, and he breathes deeply again.
“Saying quiet are we?” he says, softer this time, like he’s talking to the couch. “That’s ok. I always know how to find you…”
There are a few moments of quiet before your phone lights up in your pocket. You mentally pat yourself on the back for remembering to turn off the sound and vibrations. You let the call ring out, hear your own voice message from across the room. Caleb huffs.
“Did you really…”
There’s a long, hesitating moment. The air is like a pin, ready to drop. Then, the curtains are pulled back.
You shriek as the light hits you. Caleb stands victorious in front of you. He’s grinning.
“Hah, found you,” he gloats. “You should know you can’t hide from me pipsqueak, especially not in my own home.”
“How!?” you demand. “I was so quiet!”
He shrugs nonchalantly.
“It was my bullshit radar. Picked you up a mile away.”
“You’re a liar. You tried to call me. If you knew where I was you wouldn’t have done that.”
“I was givin' you a chance to confess.”
“Now my bullshit radar is going off.”
You step away from the window, purposefully bumping him with your shoulder. He bumps you back, harder.
“What’re you doing here?” he asks. “You didn’t call.”
“I just felt like dropping by,” you reply breezily. “I can’t do that?”
“You can. But that’s not why you’re here.”
“Well since you seem to know everything, why don’t you tell me why I’m here?”
He looks down at you. His eyes flicker between Caleb and the Colonel, one moment soft and full of mirth, another calculating and ruthless. You can already tell. He’s read you like a book. Now he’s just toying, deciding whether or not to expose you.
“You’re here because you want a free meal.”
You feel your shoulders relax. You hadn’t even noticed how tense you’d been.
“Alright, you caught me,” you grumble. “I was missing Caleb food. You haven’t cooked for me for ages .”
“And you hid from me because…?”
“... Because I wanted to surprise you.”
He raises an eyebrow, daring you to tell the truth. You humph, punching his right arm extra hard.
“Don’t look at me like that.”
He flinches, and you see the flicker of joy that passes over his face.
“Right, sorry, sorry. I forgot that looking at you was a crime.”
“Don’t even pretend you don’t know what you were doing.”
He laughs, but his smile plummets as his right arm spasms slightly. Your eyes widen.
“Oh, shit, did I just-,”
“No,” he cuts you off, “you couldn’t break it if you tried. It happened at work today. I was taking care of some… business when I was attacked with a taser. They’d probably planned to kill me with a voltage that high. Fortunately, I caught it before it hit anything important. Unfortunately, it fried my circuits.”
You swallow. Caleb’s arm was still mostly a mystery to you. He avoided talking about it, so you avoided asking. It was the first time he’d openly addressed it like this.
“Does that mean you need to repair it?”
Caleb tries for a reassuring smile, but it cracks and you can see the grimace beneath.
“Yeah,” he says gently. “It won’t take long- twenty minutes max, then I’ll cook dinner, ok?”
You remember the last time you’d seen him like this, the way his body trembled and twitched with pain, the agony in his voice. The soft whisper after, as he held you with his prosthetic arm for the first time. You’re the only one who can ease my pain…
“Can I sit with you?”
He looks stunned, eyebrows furrowed.
“Huh?”
“It hurts right?” you press. “I can sit with you until it's over. Maybe I can help somehow.”
He laughs bitterly.
“That’s sweet, pipsqueak, but I can’t… hold back… when I’m in pain.”
You shake your head.
“Don’t care. Plus…”
You force him to make eye contact. The Colonel wavers there, anxious, hurting.
“If the roles were reversed, you’d definitely insist on being there.”
He wants to say no. You can see it on his face, the way his lips thin, his eyebrows furrow, his nose wrinkles. But he can’t think of a reason to reject you.
“Alright,” he relents, still doubtful. “But I’m warning you now. You can’t complain about me bullying you when it's over.”
His tone doesn’t match the joke. You nod.
“I pinky promise I won’t. I’ll even do the dishes.”
He laughs.
“You drive a hard bargain…”
The repair room feels like another world as you enter. The wires and cables hang like cut puppet strings, glinting in the dim light. You take a deep breath, tasting the ozone buzz that fizzles in the room. The air is cold.
Caleb fiddles with a keypad near the door, and slowly the room jolts to life. Screens flicker on, casting a hazy neon glow over the operating table. You make your way over, running a hand along the thin padding.
“Have you ever had to lie down in this?”
Caleb sits down beside you.
“A few times,” he confesses. “When the repairs are bad, I sometimes use painkillers. The ones I take make me woozy.
He slowly begins to unbutton his shirt. You feel a panicked heat flush your face. You hadn’t realised he’d be undressing in front of you. Obviously it made sense, but…
Caleb chuckles, as if reading your mind.
“Is someone having second thoughts?”
“N-No,” you grumble.
“Uh-huh.”
His body is scarred. You’d seen it before, when you’d stumbled in mid-repair, but you hadn’t had a chance to properly scrutinize him. You sit down. They’re everywhere- on his shoulders, across his stomach, down his back. Some are small, little nicks and scrapes. Others are bigger, wide and pink, the shape of claws and blades. Then, round his chest on the right-hand side. The unmistakable shimmer of burn scars.
“Caleb…”
You reach to touch them, but he grabs your hand.
“It's fine,” he says, offering an unconvincing smile. “They don’t hurt anymore. I could’ve had them removed, but…”
You don’t need him to finish. It's the same reason you keep the burn scars on your arm. A permanent reminder.
Caleb reaches up to his shoulder, pressing down. Immediately the layer of skin covering the arm retracts, showing the black metal beneath.
“Impressive,” you say. “How does it work?”
“... you wouldn’t understand pipsqueak.”
“Try me.”
“Well, it makes use of a dual-rotating polyhiculour beta drive that creates a semi-elastic covering to enable feeding micro data chips and-,”
“Stop, stop! You were right, I don’t understand.”
A fragment of a true smile curls his lips. He ruffles your hair.
“Didn’t cover that in hunter school?”
“Bet they didn’t cover it in pilot school either. This is definitely Caleb-exclusive information.”
He teases you some more as he connects wires to the nodes along his arm, and you play along, indigently pouting at his jabs. For a moment, it almost feels normal, like he is assembling an appliance or modifying a robot. But when he turns to face you again, his tone is serious.
“Last chance, pipsqueak. I don’t know if I can let you leave once it’s started.”
You choose to ignore the ominous warning. Instead, you curl your hand around his left arm, letting him feel the warmth of your touch.
“I’m not going anywhere. Let's get this show on the road.”
He nods gravely, then leans over to one of the machines and flicks a switch.
It beeps to life. Caleb’s arm buckles as the strength leaves it. His eyes snap shut, pain hissing through his clenched teeth. His left hand grabs your thigh, squeezing hard enough to have you wincing. He groans, throwing his head back. Sweat sheens along his neck, glowing in the light of the screens.
You hold his arm, steadying him like a rock.
“Breathe, Caleb,” you murmur.
He does what you say, gasping for air. His eyes are rolling beneath his eyelids. His breath is jagged and sharp, rattling like nails. You rub his back, feeling the muscles flex and tense. It lasts for an agonising minute before he finally opens his eyes and beerily locks onto you.
“The first wave… is always the worst…”
The machines beep, hard and certain.
“How many waves are there?” you ask, rubbing soothing circles on his back.
He shrugs his good shoulder.
“Dunno… depends how bad the damage is.”
He looks down, frowns as he removes his hand from your thigh.
“Shit, I’m…”
His fingers have left deep red marks on your skin, already starting to mottle purple with bruising.
“Do not say you’re sorry,” you warn. “I let it happen, it’s fine. You can make it up to me by doing the dishes.”
“Don’t try to get out of it, you already-,”
He cuts off with a grunt. He falls forward this time, catching himself on your shoulder, leaning in heavily. His breath races across your neck and you feel his eyelashes flutter. He doesn’t grab you again, opting to grip the table between your legs. You wrap your arm around him, gently stroking where his skin meets metal. It lasts a little longer than the first, before he slumps. He makes no attempt to get off you, burying his face into your collarbone.
“That… feels good…” he pants.
You pause.
“You mean this?”
You touch his shoulder again, alternating between damp skin and mechanical arm. He nods.
“It’s sensitive… right there… it’s nice….”
You smile, glad he can’t see you.
“Looks like there is a way I can help after all.”
“I can hear… how satisfied you are...”
“I’d never find joy in your pain, Caleb.”
You’d meant for it to be a joke, but it came out soft and serious. Slowly, tentatively, he wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you closer. Your chest presses up against him as he locks you into place, words tickling your ear.
“Stay here then… please…”
Another wave hits, and he holds you, his only tether to the world. He clings to your waist, pulling you impossibly closer, like everything he can’t touch pains him. You shift into him, pressing your legs against his, wrapping your free arm around his chest while continuing to stroke his shoulder. The waves come and go, but he doesn’t move, a shuddering statue whispering fervent pleas into your ear.
“I missed you.”
“Stay with me.”
“I need you.”
You scramble to reassure him, words tumbling to keep up with his fear, but he seems past hearing it. The machines beep as tremors wrack his body. Concern churns in your chest, helpless to stop the tides of pain passing through him. You clutch him, just as desperate.
True to his previous word, twenty minutes later the machines give a final, definitive beep. Neither of you move. You stay in his embrace, petting his shoulder, running a hand through his damp hair. He breathes into your neck, slowly dragging himself back to the present.
“It’s over,” he whispers.
“Are you ok?”
“I will be.”
He takes deep, measured breaths.
“Did you spray your perfume on the couch?”
“... Maybe.”
He laughs. It’s tired.
“Just for that, you’re doing dishes and laundry.”
He slowly draws away, and you reluctantly let him go. He takes stock of your red cheeks, the tears in your eyes.
“Are you ok?”
You sniff, giving him a smile.
“I will be. It’s just… I really hate seeing you in pain, Caleb.”
He ruffles your hair.
“I’ve had worse.”
“That does not make me feel better.”
You look at him. Really look at him. At his eyes, warm and ruthless, gentle and calculating. At the scars on his body, old and new, a patchwork of memories and reminders. At where his flesh meets machine, welded together, becoming one. At Colonel Caleb, the stranger you know so well.
Your attention is drawn out of your musings as a tender touch skims your thigh. Calloused fingers trace the outline of their imprint, soft as a whisper.
“These will bruise for a while,” he murmurs, almost to himself.
“I already told you, it’s fine.”
His fingers don’t stop. They slide higher, beyond where he’d bruised you, along the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, just barely tracing where your skirt rides up. Without the distraction of the repairs, the touch sends a shiver of desire through you. Your core throbs as you press your lips together, fighting the urge to squeeze your thighs. His eyes are hooded and glassy, lost in his own thoughts as he stares at your leg, where his fingers touch you.
“They look good,” he breathes, barely audible.
Then his hand is snatched away. His hazy expression clears as he coughs, avoiding your eyes. His posture has become rigid, jaw clenched.
“Sorry,” he mutters. “Sorry, I don’t-... Sorry. Forget it, pipsqueak. Let’s go get dinner.”
But he doesn’t move. Your chest lurches, flutters, heart rolling. His phantom touch haunts you. You’d wanted him to go beneath your skirt, you realise. You’d wanted him to touch higher, to lean closer, until his fingers had found your panties, felt how damp you’d become. You’d wanted him to go further.
The Caleb from all those years ago had been handsome. You’d loved him, truly, but not in a way that caused your pulse to race or your head to spin. Not like this, right now, where the thought of him touching you was like a black hole in your mind, consuming all rational thought. You want him.
And as much as he could read you, you could read him. His carefully curated touches, the lingering gazes, the half-finished sentences. He wanted to act, so badly that his desire would slip out the moment he relaxed, but he didn’t. He held himself back, afraid of breaking the delicate relationship you had. Cherishing you, loving you, protecting you, all from a safe distance. He’d never dare overstep.
If he wasn’t going to make the first move…
Your eyes drift to his prosthetic arm, resting by his side. You realise you haven’t touched it since that day. You cautiously reach over, feeling the metal fingers. His hand turns over, letting you examine his palm.
“You don’t have to touch it,” Caleb murmurs.
“I don’t,” you agree. “I want to.”
His breathing picks back up as you trace the plates of his hand, running the pad of your finger around the joint of his wrist.
“I’m really sorry for… all that before,” he says quietly. “I wasn’t thinking straight. You can just ignore it.”
“I don’t want to ignore it,” you reply, focusing your attention on the ridges running up his forearm. “I’m the same.”
He inhales sharply.
“... You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t I?”
The dip of his elbow is intricate and complicated, allowing for a full range of movement. You follow the lines, feel the machine.
“You miss me,” you continue. “I’m the same. You want me to stay, I want you to stay. You need me… I’m the same. I need you Caleb.”
His breathing is unsteady, his muscles tense. Where his bicep would be is plated steel, shining chrome in the hazy light. You draw patterns on it as you continue your journey upwards.
“You’re still the Caleb I grew up with. The one I’d turn to, I’d rely on, the one who was always by my side. You’re the same, and you’re different. You’re colder, stronger, more powerful. But you’re here, you’re still by my side.”
Finally, your wandering hand reaches his shoulder. Slowly, softer than silk, you let your fingers brush his skin. He shudders where you touch, the sensitive nerves jumping.
“I need you, Colonel Caleb,” you whisper. “I need all of you, as you are now.”
His left hand shoots up, grabbing your fingers, forcing them to finally stop. You look at him. His pupils are blown wide, hair tousled, lips parted. His throat moves as he swallows.
“I can’t do this,” he rasps, closing his eyes. “I can’t listen to you say these things and do nothing.”
You lean forward, a breath away from his lips.
“Then listen and do something.”
For a terrifying moment, he’s still. Your heart thunders in your ears, pulsing with nerves and excitement and want. Then, like melting wax, he leans forward, and your lips connect.
It's for a scarce second. He pulls away, eyes flying open, staring down at you, waiting for you to reject him. Your lips tingle. You chase him, kissing him back, giving him his answer.
He moans, and it’s like a dam has burst. He lets go of your hand, fingers flying to bury themselves in your hair. You wrap your arms around his waist, leaning your weight onto him, letting him guide you. He kisses like a man starved, desperate, hungry. You drown in him, parting your lips, letting his tongue savour your mouth. You run a hand along his shoulder again and he breaks away with a gasp.
“Fuck…”
He looks at you again, lips red and glossy.
“Use this too,” you say, grabbing his prosthetic and wrapping it around your waist.
“You’re sure?” he whispers.
You clamber into his lap, using his shoulders to brace yourself as you kiss him again. His right arm tightens in response.
“I said,” you tell him between kisses. “That I want. All. Of. You.”
He moans wetly into your mouth. Cold metal dips beneath your shirt, skirting along your waist and up your spine. Sparks fly through you, popping like fireworks. You kiss your approval, gliding your hands down his bare chest, relishing the feeling of his body. You move your hips, and feel how hard he is, erection pressing against your thigh through his uniform.
“I’m going to ruin these pants,” you promise him.
Your world shifts as Caleb stands, still pressing you against him. Your legs wrap around his waist to steady yourself. Like this, the hard line of his cock presses squarely against your aching core.
“Not here,” he says. “I want you in my bed.”
He distracts you with hot kisses as he carries you through the house. His mouth barely leaves you for a second, nibbling your ear or sucking down your neck when you pull away to get a breath. You barely notice when you enter the bedroom, only breaking free of the haze as your back hits the sheets.
Caleb stands above you. Silvery light from the window illuminates him, glistening along his bionic arm. A flush has crept up his chest, along his neck, dusting over his cheeks and ears. His eyes gaze down at you like you’re an object of worship, pupils dilated, eclipsing his eyes.
“Is this real?” he whispers. “Or have I passed out from the pain?”
He leans over you, slowly moving onto the bed. He slots himself between your legs, framing his hips with your thighs. You can feel how hard he is as he grinds against your panties.
You guide his lips back to yours. Fingers run along your cheek, twisting into your hair. You yelp as he pulls it, letting your head be arched back as delicious pain trickles down your nerves. Caleb descends on your neck, grazing his teeth along your throat, before sucking a harsh mark just above your collarbone. You moan, attempting to swat at him. He captures your hands in his metal arm, forcing them above your head, leaving you at his mercy.
“Caleb,” you gasp. “I’m not going to be able to cover that!”
He worries the spot with his teeth, before moving slightly higher and doing it again. You squirm, but his grip is firm.
“Good,” he says, hissing it in your ear.
“I have-,”
You stutter, gasping, as he licks a stripe on the other side of your neck, before marking you again.
“I have work!”
He pauses. Slowly making eye contact, using your hair to force you to look up at him. You meet the gaze of the Colonel.
“Who says you’re going to work?”
The words come out of his mouth husky and dangerous. An addictive shot of adrenaline ricochets through you.
“I can’t just-,”
“You think you can walk away from this? From me? After spreading your legs in my bed?”
The kiss he gives you is sweet, at odds with the threat of his words. It tingles like a tempest, and you willingly lose yourself.
“I’m keeping you here,” he whispers against your lips, “until I’m satisfied.”
A hard weight suddenly presses against your arms as his hand moves away. He keeps them trapped above you with his evol as he leans back, his gaze tracing your body. You lie helpless beneath him, chest heaving.
“You have no idea how often I’ve imagined this,” he says. “How many times I’ve lain in this bed with my hand on my cock, picturing you beneath me.”
His hands grab at your waist, diving beneath your shirt to run up your ribs. You gasp, arching into the touch.
“This is in the way.”
He yanks his hands apart. Your sweater doesn’t stand a chance. It shreds beneath his strength, seams bursting and fabric tearing. You shriek, wriggling beneath him.
“Caleb!”
“You don’t need it,” he says, running his hands along your bare stomach. “Not here with me, not any more.”
He reaches for your breasts, still covered by your bra. He grabs them, squeezing them, relishing the feel beneath his good hand. It doesn’t take long before your bra goes the same way as the sweater, ripped down the middle by the inhuman strength of his bionic arm. Your chest bursts free, nipples immediately hard in the cool air, and his cock jumps against your leg.
“Finally,” he moans. “Fuck, you’re beautiful.”
You want to protest, to scold him for ruining your clothes, but his mouth latches onto your nipple and your words are choked out by a moan. His left hand returns to your other breast, pinching and rolling, while his right-hand runs up and down your waist. The stimulation is so much. Tingling heat trickles down into your pussy, panties soaking through. You buck your hips, desperate for friction, for pressure, anything to relieve the burning heat between your legs. He bites down and pulls, gentle enough not to hurt but hard enough to turn the slow heat into a searing burn.
“Caleb,” you gasp. “Please I- I can’t- Caleb!”
His mouth leaves your tits for a moment, lips pressing against your ear. His breaths are warm and wet as he pants into your neck.
“Keep saying my name like that and I’ll give you what you want.”
He rolls his hips for emphasis, not nearly enough through the layers of clothes. You moan, trying to follow, but he doesn’t give you the satisfaction.
“C’mon,” he says. “You know what to do.”
He pinches your nipple hard. Pain frazzles you as you strain against the hold of his evol.
“Caleb!”
The metal that had been fondling your waist runs lower, past your skirt, pausing to press against the bruises on your thigh before finally, finally , rubbing you firmly over your panties. You grind down, unashamed, a moan ripping itself from your throat.
“Good girl,” he purrs in your ear. “That’s it. Do what I say, and I’ll make you feel good.”
His hand stays there, stroking you, letting you take your pleasure against the mental fingers. He sucks your neck again, leaving a fourth, then a fifth mark, biting and licking across your collarbone.
“I’ll make you feel so good you can’t live without me.”
His fingers pull your panties aside, sliding up against your wet folds. The metal is strange, a little cold, and you relish in the unique feeling, moaning your approval.
“I’ll keep you here,” he promises lowly. “Protected. Safe. Needy . You’ll never want anything else. Just me, only me, always me.”
Suddenly, too soon, he pulls his hand away. You whine, frustrated.
“C-Caleb…”
He raises his hand, watching with lust-blown eyes as your slick shines in the moonlight, proof of your desire.
“Shit,” he whispers shakily, “you’re so fucking wet for me.”
The brief respite has let you catch your fragmented thoughts, corral your scattered words into a sentence.
“I’ll be even wetter if you go back down there.”
He chuckles, planting a soft, chaste kiss on your cheek.
“I will,” he says. “I have something in mind. But I need you to promise me something first.”
You’re tempted to ignore him, chase your pleasure on his thigh, but you pause at the sincerity of his voice.
“I want to finger you,” he says. “With my right hand. But I have limited feeling. So I need you to promise me you’ll tell me if it hurts you, ok?”
You nod, mind flying to all the possibilities of what his hand can do, but he kisses you again, dragging you back to the present.
“Say it, baby. Say you promise.”
You huff, blowing his hair where it hangs over you.
“I promise, Caleb. Right now the only thing hurting me is you being a tease.”
He laughs again, darker this time.
“Then I’d better ease your pain.”
You feel your eyes roll back when his fingers return to your clit.
“Yes,” you hiss. “Please, Caleb.”
“Don’t start begging yet,” he warns you. “I’ll have you crying before this is over.”
Slowly, one of his fingers breaches you. You hum in satisfaction, grinding against his palm, urging him to go faster. He sturdies your hips with his free hand.
“Be still,” he whispers. “Do it on your own, or I’ll use my evol.”
You swallow thickly, reminded of the effortless gravity already holding your arms. You fight to control your movements, thighs quivering as he works you open. In place of movement, you vocalise your pleasure, moaning heavily as he pushes a second finger in.
“Any pain?”
You shake your head, biting your lip.
“Good girl. I’m going to do something, and you’ll tell me straight away if you don’t like it, ok? Say it.”
“I’ll tell you,” you gasp. “I promise, I will, Caleb please-,”
The shock of pleasure that floods you shatters your self-control, jerking your hips up as your moan borders a scream. Caleb forces you back down with his hand.
“Last chance, baby. Stay still.”
You barely hear him. His fingers are buzzing , vibrating inside you. He begins to thrust them into you, curling them just so to press into your sensitive places. You feel like you’re short-circuiting. The previous pleasure that had sat like treacle in your veins turns molten, scorching you from the inside. Nothing is enough. Your body is caught between wanting to squirm away, to give yourself a chance to breathe, and the wet thrill coursing through you, filling you, drowning you.
As you writhe, you suddenly feel the pressure on your hips increase. You’re forced to still, pressed into the sheets.
“I warned you,” Caleb rasps in your ear. “If you can’t follow orders, I’ll make you obey.”
Unable to move, your mind pinpoints to where his fingers rub inside you, stimulating you just right. Your body twitches, pleasure driving you mad, muscles straining against gravity. Now that his left hand was free, he uses it to grab your tits again, rolling your nipple beneath his fingers.
“That’s it,” he encourages you. “I’ll give you everything you need. Just lie there perfectly like that, I’ve got you, I’ve always got you.”
The words echo in your head, dragging you into his fantasy. His thumb returns to your clit, vibrating like his fingers. You throw your head back, bearing your throat, voice cracking as you moan. He takes advantage, diving down, biting, kissing, sucking.
“I’m going to break you,” he says, words fizzling in your brain. “Make sure your body never forgets. I’m the only one who can make you feel this good. No one else can give you this. Only me.”
You grit your teeth, moans growing desperate, fighting to hold on. His words are like a drug, dirty, addictive.
“You’re about to cum right?” he urges, his own breathing speeding up. “Don’t hold on. I’m going to make you cum for me. Just give in.”
It's too much. His touch, his voice, the deranged words like gasoline on fire. He bites your shoulder, hard , and you shatter. You battle gravity, your body shaking with release, eyes rolling back. He doesn’t slow or let up in the slightest, those vibrating fingers massaging your g-spot without mercy. You can’t come down, pushed higher and higher, further into delirium. You scream his name.
It feels like an eternity before he relents, easing up, letting you slump into the sheets. The buzzing stops, but he continues to slowly finger you, wringing the last shivering dredges of pleasure from your body. He licks at the bite mark, kissing it softly, worshipping your neck and the bruises he’s left behind. Through the blinding post-orgasm haze, you realise he’s released his evol. You move your stiff arms, using them to wrap him in an embrace. He laughs gently.
“You back with me baby?”
You can’t speak, so you opt to nod wearily. His fingers finally leave you, trailing a wet line around your waist as he returns the hug.
“You were perfect,” he whispers. “Better than I’ve ever dreamed.”
You lie like that for a while, him feeding you soft words of tribute as you bask in his praise. Finally, you shift your hips, and feel a familiar hardness between your thighs. You crane your neck to see he was still wearing those damn pants.
“Hey,” you croak.
His attention flashes to you in an instant.
“Yeah?”
You lift your leg to poke his belt with your foot.
“Off,” you demand.
He chuckles.
“It’s ok, you don’t need to-,”
“Off,” you insist.
He reluctantly pulls away from you. You spread your legs so he can dutifully unbuckle his belt. You note with satisfaction that there is a large wet patch on his crotch, as well as on his thigh where you were grinding against him.
“Oh no,” you tease. “Looks like I kept my promise and ruined those pants.”
He looks down, then back at you with a mischievous spark in his eye. Before you can say anything, he grabs his pants and yanks them open, button flying off somewhere in the dim room, zipper tearing. You let out a shocked laugh as he steps out of his now very ruined pants.
“What is with you and ripping clothes?”
“What, worried I’ll make you repair them?”
“No, I’m worried we’ll have nothing to wear.”
“What a shame,” he sighs, returning to his place above you. “We’ll have to stop wearing clothes.”
“I’m sure the higher-ups at the Fleet will have something to say about that.”
“They have something to say about everything.”
He zeroes in on your face, brushing a strand of hair out of your eyes.
“Do you need anything? Water?”
The whiplash between Caleb, gently caring for you, and the Colonel who had just pinned you to the bed and given you the best orgasm of your life, is mind-numbingly addictive. The delicate touches and soft words stir inside you, a different kind of simmering heat.
“I want you to cum in me,” you say.
To your great satisfaction, he chokes on his own breath.
“I- what?”
“You heard me.”
“Pipsqueak, you’re probably too tired to-,”
“Don’t call me pipsqueak in bed,” you interrupt him. “It’s not very sexy.”
“Ok fine, but my point still stands.”
He gazes down at you, his brows furrowed to form a cute little divot above his nose.
“You don’t need to return the favour.”
You scoff.
“Caleb, do I really have to spell it out? I. Want. You. To. Fuck. Me. I’m not too tired, I’m sure this is what I want, I know what I’m asking for. Is that enough reassurance for you?”
He hesitates. Years of self-restraint battle in his eyes, warring for control. You glance down to see he’s still rock hard, his tip shiny and dripping with precum. You think back to the filth he just moaned in your ear, the fantasy he spun. You brush your fingers along his neck, lean up to his ear to breathe your words softly, feeling him shudder.
“I’ve never let another man cum inside me,” you whisper. “I want you to be the only one, Caleb. My pussy is yours. Claim it.”
Your back slams into the sheets as his evol pins you down again. Your yelp gets cut off when his lips crash into yours, tongue wrestling you into submission. His hands are back on you, dragging your skirt and panties off, bullying his way between your spread legs.
“You,” he moans between kisses, “are dangerous.”
You try to retort, but his left-hand curls around your throat, cutting you off. He doesn’t squeeze hard, just enough to have you gasp.
“Shh, no more talking out of you.”
He’s grinding against your thighs, hips rolling and flexing. You wriggle, arching your back, until on his next push forward the head of his cock drags against your clit. You both moan, his hand tightening a fraction around your neck.
“Shit,” he hisses. “Fuck, I-,”
His fingers move to grab your jaw, tilting your head up to meet his gaze.
“You’ll tell me if it hurts.”
You nod frantically.
“Yes, I’ll tell you. Please, Caleb, fuck me, I need you .”
His right hand disappears from your side and you feel it between your legs, lining himself up against your hole. Finally, he sinks into you.
The stretch is intense and delicious. His breath stutters. You watch, enraptured, as he closes his eyes, lips parted, a sinful image of ecstasy. He doesn’t wait for you to adjust, too far gone in his own pleasure, pulling out almost all the way before thrusting back in again. His evol falters, and you use the opportunity to wrap your legs around his hips and tangle your fingers into his hair, pulling him closer.
“You feel so good,” you whisper to him, hot in his ear. “Fuck, Caleb, you-,”
His hand squeezes your neck again.
“Don’t,” he pants against you. “I’m t-trying to be gentle.”
“I don’t want gentle,” you say, tugging on his hair. “You promised to break me, so-,”
He slams into you, and you cut off with a shriek. You cling to him as he does it again, and again, and again, brutal power rocking your body. He’s finally snapped, the lust in his eyes gone feral.
“Oh I’ll break you,” he snarls. “I’ll break you and that filthy mouth of yours.”
He grabs your hips, angling you up, so he nails your g-spot every thrust. You throw your head back as pleasure thunders through you, earth-shattering and violent. You’re saying something, incoherent babbles of pleasure and begging, but it doesn’t matter. He fucks you mercilessly, your tits bouncing with the force of it. Your nails drag down his arms as you cling to him for purchase. You swear you can feel him in your stomach, deep and thick and hot.
His stamina leaves you breathless, fucking you for what feels like an eternity before he gasps.
“I’m close,” he groans low and deep in his throat.
You nod frantically, clawing at his back. His left hand leaves your hips, fingers finding your clit, rubbing maddening circles into you. The pleasure builds behind your eyes. You gasp, locking your legs around him, as you cum for a second time. His cock throbs as you feel him release with you, pumping deep inside. You tremble, shaking apart in his arms, milking him for everything he has.
He collapses beside you. You stay like that, breaths heaving as you come down. You feel tingly and satisfied, eyelids heavy with bliss. You peek at Caleb, only to find him already staring at you. You smile weakly.
“That's more like it.”
He grins, leaning forward to kiss you tenderly. It’s sweet, even with the feeling of his cum slowly sliding down your leg.
“You’re crazy,” he murmurs fondly.
“Mmm. Hate to think what that makes you.”
“Even crazier, apparently.”
He props himself up on his arm to get a better look at you. His metallic fingers trace soothing lines along your stomach, right where he would’ve been hitting while inside you. You sigh, relaxing back into the tender touch.
“Why does your arm come with a vibrator setting?” you mumble.
Caleb laughs, throwing his head back.
“It didn’t. I made some, uh, modifications.”
“Modifications, huh? Can’t imagine why you’d need something like that.”
He kisses you again.
“It has loads of uses. Stirring coffee, massaging my back, causing mind-blowing orgasms…”
“So you admit this was an intended feature?”
“I was hopeful. Didn’t get a chance to try it until today though.”
“That means I’m the only one who’s been treated to that?”
“Of course. I’m all yours.”
He manoeuvres you onto your side, snuggling up behind you as the big spoon. It feels natural, right even, to have his chest solid against your back. He nuzzles your damp neck, planting gentle kisses beneath your ear.
“Thank you,” he whispers.
“For what? Finally initiating?”
“For accepting me. For staying with me.”
You lace your fingers together with his left hand, pulling it up to your lips and kissing his knuckles before doing the same with his right.
“You don’t have to thank me for that. You’re my Caleb. Nothing can change that.”
He’s silent for a long time, and you let him turn to his thoughts, content to drift drowsily in his embrace. Eventually he gives a soft, rueful laugh.
“Here’s what's gonna happen,” he says. “First, I’m carrying you to the shower and getting you cleaned up. Then I’m gonna cook you whatever you want for dinner while you call the Association and get tomorrow off. After that, you’ll do the dishes while I do the same for the Fleet. Then I’m gonna to fuck you on every surface of this apartment until all of Skyhaven knows my name.”
You twist around to kiss his smiling lips.
“Is that a promise?”
He laughs into the kiss.
“It’s a threat.”