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It had been a while since you and Caleb found your way back to each other, and the two of you had been inseparable ever since. Sometimes you were trying new things together, but other times you ended up slipping right back into the old habits you had as teenagers. It was strange at first, doing those same things now as grownups — almost like stepping into a memory — but it came with this soft, undeniable comfort. The kind that felt a little like laughter, a little like… home.
After playing rounds and rounds of kitty cards — and yet not one had granted you a single win, you sulk and roll your eyes at Caleb. Not just because he was sparing you no mercy, but also because of how he’s just marveling at the sight of your defeat. And he wasn’t even subtle about it either, making sure that you’re a hundred percent aware.
He’d been staring too long again.
Not with that sharp, assessing focus he wore on missions, but with something looser, warmer — and annoyingly smug. You caught it when you glanced up from the sofa, brows narrowing instantly. “What?”
Caleb’s mouth twitched, his chin rested on his fist as he leans down ever so teasingly. “Nothiiing.” That ‘nothing’ dragged with weight, stretched across the room like bait. You knew it. He knew it.
“Don’t start,” you warned, eyeing him down quite longer than necessary.
But of course, to no surprise; He started.
“You know, for someone who keeps stacking the deck against me, you’re awfully grumpy about losing.” His tone was light, teasing, but his eyes had that glint — half challenge, half mischief — that told you he was enjoying this way too much.
Because it was Caleb — the same Caleb who, when you were teens, used to hide the last cookie just so he could watch you stomp through the house demanding justice. The same Caleb who deliberately walked slower than you when you were in a rush, just to make you snap at him. The same Caleb who always, always grinned when you swore you’d throttle him.
And now? He was wearing that same old grin — older now, a little sharper, carrying an edge that had nothing to do with being a colonel, and everything to do with the way his eyes pinned you.
“Okay, okay. I’ll shut up. It’s just that… Y’know….” he said lazily, now leaning back and tilting his head back against the couch, “You haven’t yelled at me in a while. Kinda miss it.”
You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “God, don’t tell me you’re about to start again. We’re not fourteen anymore, Caleb. You’re not funny.”
“Mmm, never said I was funny,” he drawled, sitting forward now, elbows on his knees, gaze steady. “I just like the way you get mad, pipsqueak. Always have.” Oh, my god. That stupid warmth immediately spread through your neck, tightening your throat. He couldn’t be serious. He couldn’t.
But he was. And the way he kept talking proved it.
“Back then, it was just fun. Watching you pout, cross your arms, stomp off. Drove me into a smug, snickering mess in the best way. Couldn’t get enough of it.” He huffed a laugh, low and almost self-mocking. “Didn’t know why, not really. Just knew I liked poking at you. Over and over. Til’ you cracked.”
Your pulse jumped. He wasn’t reminiscing the way normal people would about their childhood. His voice was pitched lower, slower, like he wasn’t just thinking of the memories. He was savoring each and one of them.
“Thing is,” he went on, his eyes flicking to your mouth, “it’s different now.”
You swallowed. “Different… Different how?”
Caleb leaned back, ran a hand through his hair, exhaled hard like he’d been holding something in too long. “Because now, when I push your buttons and you snap at me… it’s not just funny. It’s—” His jaw flexed. His next words broke ragged, like he had to force them out. “It’s hot. It does somethin’ to me I can’t control.”
The silence after was heavy. Stifling. He didn’t look away, didn’t laugh it off — just sat there, shoulders tense, lips parted, chest rising faster than it should. And you — you couldn’t even argue. You were there, still trying to keep up the grumpy act even as you were burning flushed from the ears down. You wanted to scoff. Roll your eyes, throw a pillow at him, tell him he was ridiculous. That’s what you should’ve done. But the words stuck somewhere in your throat, because the truth was written all over your skin — the way your pulse kicked, the way your cheeks burnt under his stare.
Caleb seemed to realize what he’d just confessed, because he exhaled sharply, dragging a hand over his jaw like he could shove the words back inside. “Shouldn’t’ve said that,” he muttered, low, almost to himself. But he didn’t look away. Couldn’t.
The room seemed to shrink around you both. The hum of the refrigerator, the tick of the clock — they all faded to the edges, muffled under the weight of the silence that pressed in between you. His eyes stayed locked on yours, steady and unflinching, like the air itself had tethered him there. And you sat there, caught, flustered, burning, trying to keep the act of grumpiness alive. But your body betrayed you. The longer his gaze lingered, the more impossible it became to ignore the truth: you didn’t want him to take any of it back.
You forced a scoff, crossing your arms tight over your chest like that could shield you from the heat crawling up your neck. “You’re unbelievable,” you muttered, hoping it sounded dismissive instead of shaky. Caleb’s mouth curved, not quite a smile, not quite a smirk — something steadier. “Yeah? That supposed to be news?”
You rolled your eyes hard enough it almost hurt, desperate to hide the way your stomach was flipping. “Don’t start with me,” you warned, though your voice betrayed you, softer than it should’ve been. But he didn’t fire back right away this time. He just leaned in a little, elbows braced on his knees, gaze holding yours like he had all the time in the world. The silence stretched, thick and stubborn, and no matter how long you glared, he didn’t budge. Didn’t even blink.
Your frown faltered before you could stop it, and the sight of his grin sharpening again made you want to throw something at him. Anything. “God, you’re so—so irritating,” you snapped, but the heat in your voice didn’t sound like anger anymore.
And by the look in his eyes, he knew it.
His grin widened, slow and sharp, like he’d been waiting for that exact line. He tilted his head, voice dropping into a lazy whine. “I aaam?” The tease stretched out of him, playful on the surface, but his eyes stayed locked on you — deliberate. “You don’t miss that, pips?”
You rolled your eyes for the nth time. “Missed it? Please. I’d rather—” The words caught, your throat tight, and what slipped out instead was, “—I’d rather you shut up and never open that mouth again if not for something useful.” And that… didn’t sound the way you intended it to.
“Say that again?” He giggles. Of course he caught that slip.
“That’s not—I didn’t mean it like that,” you snapped, cheeks burning hot.
Caleb’s grin didn’t budge. If anything, it deepened, his eyes lighting up like you’d just handed him his favorite toy. “Sure didn’t,” he said smoothly, leaning back with his arm stretched across the couch like he had all the time in the world. “Mm, maybe. But you’ve been tryin’ to shut me up since we were fifteen. Never worked then, not workin’ now.”
Your breath caught, more annoyed at the way it made your stomach twist than at the words themselves. “You are so dramatic.”
“And you’re so predictable.” He said it easily, like a tease, but his gaze stayed steady on yours, lingering too long. “Still stomp your foot when you’re mad. Still pout when you don’t get your way. Same as when we were kids.”
You scoffed, crossing your arms tighter over your chest. “I do not pout.”
He hummed, low, like he didn’t believe you for a second. “You do. In fact…” He leaned in just a little, almost absentmindedly, his knee brushing yours as if he hadn’t realized he’d moved. “…you’re doin’ it right now.”
Neither of you seemed to notice the space shrinking — the way his shoulder pressed into yours, the way your chin tilted up without thinking. It was just more banter, more of the same. And yet, your voices had gone quieter, closer, until the air felt charged with something neither of you were admitting out loud.
The air shifted, a subtle hum beneath the words. Caleb tilted in, slow and deliberate, like a man testing the edges of a minefield. His gaze stayed on you, watching, waiting — fully prepared for you to shove him back, roll your eyes, tell him off. But you didn’t.
You stayed put.
Not a twitch, not a dodge. Your lips pressed tight, your arms stubbornly crossed — but you didn’t move away either.
Caleb’s grin faltered, just barely, replaced by something heavier that pulled at the corners of his mouth. His breath ghosted close when he murmured, “Huh. Guess you’re not as mad as you want me to think.”
Caleb’s grin curved slow, dangerous. He leaned in just a fraction more, and before you could sharpen another retort, he pressed the lightest, laziest peck against the corner of your mouth. Not a kiss — not really. More like a dare.
You froze. Arms crossed, jaw tight, eyes forward. If he thought you were gonna melt over some half-ass peck—
Another one. This time at the edge of your lips. Still soft, still maddeningly unhurried.
“Mmm,” Caleb hummed against your skin, his tone dripping smug. “Thought so.” Your stomach twisted, heat climbing fast up your neck, but you refused to give him the satisfaction. You stayed rigid, motionless, lips pressed tight—
And then he went for a third. Right at your mouth. Still feather-light, still lazy, like he had all day to tease you into breaking.
That was it.
A sharp breath ripped out of you before you finally grabbed his shirt and yanked him in. The kiss landed messy, rough, all teeth and heat and pent-up frustration. Caleb groaned “Mmngh…!” actually groaned — against your mouth, his hand flying up to cradle the back of your head as if he’d been waiting for this exact snap. Gone was the lazy teasing ; now it was desperate, hungry, starved. His lips slanted hard over yours, chasing, claiming, drinking in everything you gave.
You didn’t even remember uncrossing your arms, but they were clutching at him now, pulling him closer, closer, closer, until there wasn’t an inch of space left. The couch creaked with the force of it, his mouth hot and insistent, your breath mixing messy and uneven as the kiss deepened into something that felt like years of wanting breaking all at once.
Caleb groaned into your mouth, low and raw, like the sound had been buried in his chest for years and you’d just dragged it out of him. His hand clamped hard at your waist, anchoring you, dragging you flush until the sofa creaked beneath the press. The kiss wasn’t neat — it was wet, sloppy, all teeth and heat, breaths stuttering and too loud in the quiet room.
When you finally pulled back, gasping, he stayed close — forehead pressed to yours, nose brushing, lips swollen and damp. His chest heaved, breath ragged. “Y’know,” he rasped, voice shredded from kissing, “for someone who said my mouth should be put to good use—” his lips curved wicked, brushing yours with each word, “you sure took your time letting me prove it.”
Your stomach flipped violently, heat flashing across your face. “Shut up,” you hissed, though the words broke halfway, your hands still fisted in his shirt like you couldn’t push him away even if you tried.
“Mmm,” he hummed, smug but already leaning in again, “make me.”
And then you did — crashing back into him, swallowing the rest of his taunt. Caleb groaned loud, guttural, like he’d been waiting for that exact fight. His kiss turned frantic, hungry, mouth dragging over yours like he couldn’t get enough, couldn’t get close enough. Every sound he made — the choked whimper when you bit his lip, the rough growl when you tangled tighter in his shirt — just burned hotter, spilled louder.
Your mouths separate with a string of saliva refusing to disconnect you both, and your glare sharpened, but it faltered when his thumb skimmed your lip again, slow, deliberate. “Quit looking at me like that,” you muttered, breath still uneven.
“Like what?” His grin widened, wolfish now, leaning in until his nose brushed yours. “Like a man who just found his excuse?” You stiffened. “Excuse for what—”
His lips grazed your ear, warm breath spilling over your skin. “For putting this mouth to good use.” The words were a low rasp, shamelessly echoing your earlier slip. You shivered. Of course he wouldn’t let it go. Your fingers bunched in his shirt, but you couldn’t tell if it was to push him back or hold him closer. “Caleb.” You try to hold some semblance of dominance, but at this rate — who were you fooling?
He chuckled against your jaw, planting another lazy, taunting kiss there. “C’mon, pipsqueak. You said it yourself. Don’t you think it’s only fair I prove I can be useful?” His mouth trailed lower — the hinge of your jaw, the column of your throat — each kiss wetter, slower, his voice vibrating against your pulse.
You clenched your thighs, heat rising fast. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Mhm. Sure didn’t.” He licked into the curve of your neck, making you jolt. “But you’re sitting here lettin’ me. Not stopping me.” Another kiss, hotter, teeth grazing now. “So maybe you did mean it.” Your head tipped back before you could catch yourself, a shaky breath slipping out. And Caleb, smug bastard that he was, groaned low — a ragged, desperate sound that betrayed how much control he was burning just to keep it teasing.
Your head’s tipped back against the couch, and Caleb’s grin curved against your skin, smug but strained. “That’s it,” he murmured, his lips brushing the base of your throat, “just lean back and let me be useful.” You shuddered, thighs pressing tighter together, but his hand slid down and wedged between them, not quite pushing, just resting heavy enough that you felt the promise of it.
“Caleb—”
“Say it again, pips.” he cut in, his voice low, almost ragged. His kisses trailed lower, dragging heat down your collarbone, his teeth scraping lightly against the delicate skin there. “Say you want my mouth put to good use. Just once. I’ll take care of everything.” Your breath hitched hard, and he groaned at the sound, biting back like it hurt him not to move faster. “Don’t—don’t twist my words,” you hissed, though your nails were already digging into his shoulders.
He laughed, rough, desperate, his forehead pressing into your chest. “Twist them? Sweetheart, I’m holding on to ‘em. Like you handed me a gift.” His voice dropped filthier, lips brushing lower, lower, each syllable warm and wet against your skin.
One more kiss, right at the edge of your shirt’s neckline. He tugged at the fabric with his teeth, just a little, then glanced up at you — eyes blown wide, pupils dark with hunger — waiting, begging, but still giving you the final word.
You should’ve shoved him back. You should’ve rolled your eyes, told him to quit it. But you didn’t.
Not when his mouth was dragging lower, not when his voice was breaking apart into gravel and need, not when his hands were shaking against your thighs like he was holding himself back from tearing through every inch of clothing between you. “Caleb…” The way his name slipped out — soft, warning, but trembling — sealed it. His head snapped up, and God, the look in his eyes. Wild. Hungry. Pupils swallowing every trace of control he had left.
“Fuck, you don’t know what that does to me,” he rasped, already working your legs apart, guiding your knees over the couch cushions until you were spread open under him. His hand skimmed up the inside of your thigh, hot and careful, and when he finally hooked a finger in the hem of your shorts, his voice cracked. “Please… let me. Let me put my mouth to good use for you.”
The words hung there, filthy and reverent all at once.
Your breath hitched. You should’ve teased him again, made him work for it. But the way he said please, the way his lips trembled against your skin as if he were praying instead of begging—
You nodded. Just once. Just barely.
And it was like pulling the trigger on him.
Caleb groaned — loud, unrestrained, shameless — before shoving your shorts just far enough aside to bury himself between your thighs. His mouth met you hot and desperate, tongue dragging in long, reverent strokes like he’d been dreaming of this exact taste since the day he first laid eyes on you.
“Mmngh—god, fuck yes…” The sounds tore out of him, half-choked, half-worship. His grip on your hips tightened, grounding himself as he devoured you like he was never gonna stop. But Caleb didn’t rush. Not at first. Not when he had you spread open beneath him, trembling, chest heaving, pulse hammering like it was about to burst. No—he wanted this. Every second of it. Every little whimper, every sharp intake of breath, every quiet curse slipping past your lips.
His mouth pressed hot against you, tongue dragging deliberately, teasing, teasing — always just out of full satisfaction’s reach. One soft flick across your clit had you bucking reflexively, and he chuckled low in your ear, the vibration sending shivers straight down your spine.
Your voice shattered under him. “C-Caleb… please… god, don’t stop—please…”
And that was it. That broken, desperate plea sent him over the edge of control. He moaned right into you, deep and throaty, gripping your hips and pulling you flush against his chest as he redoubled his efforts. His mouth, hands, every nerve ending on fire with need, dragged you through a haze of sensation so intense you could barely form coherent thought.
Every single movement, every rasped moan, every whisper of your own name, fed his hunger until he could barely stand himself. He didn’t care about restraint anymore. He only cared about claiming, tasting, devouring… using every inch of you the way he’d imagined since that moment you’d dropped that little slip-up about his mouth.
Caleb didn’t let you catch your breath. Every time you teetered on the edge, he’d tease just enough to hold you there, and then push you closer. His hands weren’t gentle anymore — they pressed against your abdomen, firm and deliberate, grounding you while he continued his slow, torturous assaults with his mouth.
“C-Caleb—! Not— Nnh… Not there…!” Oh but you loved when he’d press down right there. Each press was a reminder: He had you right where he wanted you, and he knew exactly what he was doing.
“Where?” He asked, feigning cluelessness, murmuring against your sensitive flesh with that cheeky giggle — the vibrations sending shocks after shocks down your spine. “Riiiight… here?” He’d press down once more before diving back in between your thighs at the same time. It was killing you. You wanted to kick him, tug at his hair in frustration, but you knew that that freak would definitely like that.
And you couldn’t deny that you liked him like that. So you did what you wanted to be done — Frustrated, you tug at his hair in attempt to hold even a fraction of control, but to him, it just showed that you were at his mercy more. Shoving him in like that? Oh, he used to pray for times like these.
Your thighs were trembling, body strung tight as a wire, and caleb was still teasing, pressing that maddening spot on your lower belly while his mouth dragged over you. smug bastard. “Hnn—Caleb, fuck—” you choked, nails carving down his shoulders. He hummed against you, vibrating right where you couldn’t stand it, pretending not to hear the edge in your voice.
another press, another lazy lick, and you snapped.
“Caleb.” your voice was sharp, ragged. You fisted his hair and yanked him up, his mouth slick and chin glistening when he blinked at you, surprised but burning. Before he could quip, you shoved him back into the couch cushions, climbing onto his lap.
His chuckle came out broken, half-groan, chest heaving. “Oh, finally losing patience, huh, pipsqueak?” He manages to tease even as he’s drenched in your juices from the nose down. Absolute freak. “Shut up.” you spat it like venom, already tugging his pants open, already too far gone to care about gentleness.
He didn’t even try to fight it. his grin split wide, feral, hands flying to your hips as you straddled him. “Mmph—god, yes—been waiting for that tone again—”
You lined him up and dropped down in one rough stroke, making both of you cry out. Caleb’s head thudded back against the couch, a guttural curse tearing out of his throat. “Fffuuuck…” as his grip on you tightened bruising-hard.
“Hn—fuck, pips—hnngh—” he stuttered, already panting, already wrecked. you set the pace sharp and merciless, rolling your hips hard, glaring down at him through half-lidded eyes. “this what you wanted, huh? wanted me mad?”
His laugh was strangled, desperate. “Haah—y-yeah—fuck, look at you—so angry, riding me— Nngh—like you’re punishing me—” another broken groan ripped out of him when you slammed down harder. “—and it’s makin’ it so fucking hard for me to not start thrusting all up into you, pips.”
Your nails raked down his chest, making him arch up into you. “You’re unbelievable.” You say, even if deep down — you hoped that he would.
“Mmh, you love it,” he choked, his grin sharp even as his jaw trembled, breath breaking with every snap of your hips. “fuck—god, ruin me. stay mad, don’t stop—”
His voice was unraveling, babbling through gritted teeth as you took him over and over, the couch creaking under the force. and the worst part? that smug, blissed-out smile never left his face — because the angrier you got, the more he fell apart. Your pace was ruthless, punishing, every roll of your hips dragging another ragged groan out of caleb. his head tipped back, throat bared, chest heaving like he was fighting to keep it together.
But then — then his grip on your hips tightened, fingers digging in, and he finally suddenly thrust up.
“Ah—fuck!” you gasped, thrown off, your hands clutching his shoulders to steady yourself.
His grip bruised into your hips, forcing you down just as he thrust up again — and you swore you felt the air ripped right out of your lungs. He was thick, every inch stretching you so full you could barely think, the drag of him along your walls so deep and deliberate it was almost unbearable.
Each snap of his hips hit that spot just right, sharp and unrelenting, sending sparks racing up your spine. The weight of him pressed up into you from below, the blunt head of his cock catching, sliding, grinding until your thighs quivered around his waist.
You tried to keep pace, tried to stay in control, but he was meeting you harder, faster, fucking up into you with so much force that your rhythm shattered into desperate little jolts. Every thrust forced a sound out of you, breathless and broken, your walls clenching down helplessly around him.
“Hhnn—fuck, that’s it,” Caleb groaned, his head rolling back before he snapped forward to watch you ride him. His pupils were blown wide, teeth bared, every muscle in his stomach tightening with each upward slam.
Your voice broke on his name, wrecked and pleading. “Caleb—please, I—I can’t—”
“Shhh, I know, pipsqueak,” he murmured, kissing the corner of your open mouth even as he drove up into you again, harder, deeper. “I’ve got you. Just let go. Right here. With me.”
His hand pressed against your stomach just as his hips lifted, the angle sharp, relentless — and that was it. You broke, the release tearing through you so hard you could only sob out his name, your body clenching around him in waves that seemed endless.
Caleb groaned low, raw, his jaw tight as he ground up into you, riding out every spasm with you. “That’s it—yes—just like that…” His voice cracked, forehead pressed to yours as his lips found your cheek, your temple, whatever he could reach.
But he didn’t stop. Didn’t let you drift away. Instead, he kept moving, slower now, deliberate, rolling his hips in little circles that pulled more shivers from you. You whimpered against his shoulder, clinging to him, every slow drag inside of you wringing out more trembling aftershocks.
“I’ve got you,” he said again, gentler this time, his arms wrapping around your waist and holding you close as though you’d slip away if he let go. Each lazy roll of his hips was less thrust, more reminder — that he was still there, still inside you, still keeping you tethered.
The world felt quieter after, all the frantic heat draining into a heavy, boneless stillness. You were curled against Caleb’s chest, skin slick, legs trembling every time you tried to shift. He hadn’t let go of you, hadn’t even moved to pull out, just kept you snug in his lap like he was afraid you’d slip away.
“Mm,” you groaned, wincing when your thighs twitched. “You’re… you’re the worst. I can’t move.”
Caleb’s laugh rumbled low against your ear, “There it is… That mad little tone again…” his hand rubbing slow, soothing circles up and down your back. “The worst, huh? That what we’re callin’ it now?”
“Yes.” You grumbled it into his chest, refusing to lift your head. “Worst. Annoying. Smug. Did I mention heavy?” That made him snicker, the sound boyish and warm. “You just mad ‘cause I made you stay put.” He chuckles, smug.
“Exactly.” Your voice cracked halfway between a pout and a whine, which only made his shoulders shake harder with laughter. “Don’t worry, pipsqueak,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss your hairline. “I’ll rub your legs later. Couch tax, y’know.”
For a moment, you just stared at each other. Both sweaty, both wrecked, both caught somewhere between exhaustion and giddiness. Then — it cracked. First your tiny snort, then his quiet chuckle, until both of you were giggling into the sticky warmth of each other.
“God, you’re ridiculous,” you whispered, still smiling against his mouth when he leaned down to kiss you again.
“You say that every time.” He laughed.