Ch 2

Hours pass, marked only by the ticking of the clock on the wall. The sun sinks lower towards the horizon, casting the room in a warm golden light, and with it, the front door creaks open again.

You crack open a single eyelid at the noise, having dozed off against the cushion, nose pressed close enough to smell his lingering cologne. It was the same scent, the one you bought for him at his Deepspace Aviation Academy graduation smelling of bourbon and cinnamon and apples. The warmth of it still clings to the air, comforting yet distant.

 You watch as he enters, still in his uniform, attempting to carefully toe off his boots so as to not disturb the quiet of the apartment. He slides one off, but the other one stays - stubborn.He releases a frustrated huff, bending over to untie the laces.. After a moment of wrestling, he finally tosses it aside to look at you. He sees your hair flooded with the red and gold of fireworks, the setting sun beautiful against your skin. One of his old shirts clings to your frame. His lips part, he is momentarily stunned.

"Hi." You greet him, studying the way his chest rises and falls, as if he ran every step of the way to get back to you as soon as possible.. His hat is missing, and you watch as he pulls off a glove with his teeth to give you a small wave in response.

A small, tired smile tugs at the corners of his mouth as he pulls off his other glove, dropping it beside him. "Hi," he echoes,, his voice barely above a whisper.

You curl your legs beneath you, the worn fabric swallowing you whole. You had always kept a stock of his old shirts on hand as pajamas, curating a collection over the years you were both away during college.
Catching his breath, he shucks off his coat, the weight of it causing it to slip from the hook and onto a crumpled pile on the floor. He bats at its general direction, offended. A gesture of 'ugh, whatever, I'll move it later' echoed in the way he moves his weight onto the couch next to you.

 Caleb leans back, exhaling deeply as the cushion beneath him moulds to his weary form. His elbow grazes against your own, the brief contact sending a small electrical charge through him despite his exhaustion. He tilts his head to look at you, eyes tired but warm.
"What?" you ask, a lightness to your voice.
He forces a smirk, trying to mask the knot in his chest. "Just trying to figure out how the hell you still fit into that shirt after all these years."
You snort, teasing him back. "Maybe you just got bigger."
Caleb’s heart stutters, uncertain whether you mean his body or the space he occupies in your life. The weight of the words sinks deep, pulling him down in ways he isn’t ready to face.
Bigger. Better. Stronger. Someone you could lean on. Someone you could trust.
"Tough day?" You pivot both yourself and the conversation into safer waters.. Your eyes catch the soft glow of the  fading sunlight.

He sighs, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "You could say that," he murmurs, his gaze drifting to the window where the sun dips lower in the sky, painting it with hues of orange and pink. "Just... a lot of politics and red tape today.”

You hum sympathetically before asking. "Did you eat?" Despite his constant hounding to ensure your own square meals, he is notorious for skipping his own. He's done it since You both were teenagers, as if he is able to deprive himself from one need will help temper another.

You uncurl yourself from the couch and walk to the kitchen. He makes a tired noise in response, remaining motionless on the couch. A pang of something hits your chest, brutal in the way it makes itself known.  It’s unlike him—the man who used to insist on cooking every meal himself, pushing you out of the kitchen as if to say it was his job to care for you.

The faint thrum of the stove fan hums in the background as you open the fridge, pulling out the milk. You stretch up on tiptoe to knock the cocoa powder from its high shelf, and Caleb watches you, his head tilting in silent question. His eyes trail the curve of your neck, winding down your legs. He swallows audibly.

Pretending not to notice the way his gaze lingers, you hum as you work,still remaining ready to verbally spar him back to his sitting place on the couch if necessary. The funny feeling was back, a deep tenderness sending warmth through your chest. He was letting you take care of him.

You simmer the milk, mix in the sugar. A pinch of cinnamon, and extra handful of chocolate chips. The simple steps are familiar -On the rare winter days where snow piled up in Linkon, he would find a steaming mug awaiting him, silent thanks for letting you stay inside while he cleared the snow.

You bring over the mug, placing it in his hands as the swirling steam wafts rich chocolate to his nose. "Drink up." You sit back down next to him, and he cradles the mug close to him.

“Your famous hot cocoa recipe.” He murmurs, watching the liquid swirl.The warmth spreads through his fingers; forms a lump in his throat. "...you didn't make one for yourself.” It’s more a statement than a question. He takes a slow sip,savoring the warmth that spreads through him. His eyes linger on yours, searching. "Why?”

You shrug, considering the half-truth you’ll give him. pulling out your phone to scroll to a local restaurant. ou pull out your phone, scrolling to a local restaurant’s menu. "Because you're buying me takeout," you say, pushing the phone toward him with a teasing smile.


Caleb blinks, eyes adjusting to scan the menu. His fingers brush against yours as he takes your phone. "Thanks," he murmurs, tapping an order he knows by heart.

Once he’s finished, the phone is back in your hand, and you’re adding an extra serving of his favorite appetizer alongside your own order.

You can feel his eyes on you, smile widening. He doesn’t need to see the screen to know what you’ve done.  "You’re too good to me, Pipsqueak.”

“Shut up.” The order is placed - a delivery estimate glowing on the holopad across the room.

He smiles,  translating the unspoken language between your words - subtle cues and unvoiced want. "Alright," he murmurs, taking another sip.

your glances over at him, barely schooling your expression away from smitten. You repeat his response back to him. “Alright? That’s it?.... Are you sure you're my Caleb?" A rueful smile tugs at your lips, but there’s a deeper, unspoken meaning behind your words.

He nearly chokes on his drink, sputtering out laughter. "I haven’t changed one bit.” You level an unimpressed look at him.

His smile widens, guilty as charged. “What? Look at you, givin’ me cocoa, doting on me - it’s almost like you’re nice now." His eyes twinkle with amusement.

On cue, you pry the mug from his hand, taking a sip yourself. "That's it, I'm cutting you off. Cocoa's only for those on the 'nice' list." Your smile hides behind the mug as you take another drink.

He laughs, a genuine sound that fills the room. "There she is," he riffs, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I thought I'd lost you to some imposter." He reaches out gently for the mug, attempting to undermine your hands with his own. “....Give it back, please?” his ask is saccharine, faux sweetness as he tugs at your grasp around the mug.

Your eyes flicker across the brushing of hands, the sound of his voice. You relinquish the cup to him, and he makes a small noise, surprised at the way you let him - the small gesture makes his heart do something funny in his chest. Suddenly interested in studying the fabric of the couch. You trace abstract circles across its surface, sigils that promise ways to taste the chocolate on his tongue.

You clear your throat. "So...Was it actually an emergency?"

He chuckles, the sound strained from his exhaustion. "No, not really. Just….Someone's ego got hurt, so we’ll all get to suffer for it the next few days.”

You let out a heavy sigh, unable to fault him for the loyalty he displayed for better or worse in every aspect of his life. "Sorry."

You’re not sure if you’re apologizing for his rough day, or for the way you dance around the heated exchange of earlier. Should you have bridged the gap between your breaths, acknowledge the slow-motion collision playing out since he stepped back into your life? You shrug, the weight of indecision heavy against your bones.

Caleb notices the movement, the unspoken weight behind it. He shakes his head slightly, a rueful smile tugging at his lips. "Nothing for you to apologize for," he murmurs, his voice low and sincere. "Could've been worse. At least no one threw a literal tantrum today.” The curl of his lips acts as a balm to the worry you try to push past.

"You don't know that. I had to watch the rest of that dumb movie by myself." Your smile returns, a sweetness that softens the tension in the air.

"Oh, the horror," he teases, stifling a groan. "Tell me - did the world's most eligible bachelor finally confess his undying love to the heroine?" He’s walked you both back into playful territory, hoping to goad you into complaints.

You scoff, taking the bait. "Now I *really* know you weren't paying attention to the movie earlier." Caleb barks out a laugh -  a bright, innocent thing causing your insides to fizz. Your hand instinctively reaches out to rest on his shoulder, steadying there against the grey button up before retreating.

His laughter fades, but the smile stays as he catches your hand just before it fully withdraws, gently placing it back on his shoulder. "You're right," he admits. "I must have missed all of the important parts."

You laugh. The action comedy movie he had chosen was the furthest away from 'romantic' one could get. "Surprise, they were both ghosts in the end. Or maybe it was a dream……Or the butler did it, I forget." Your voice is fond as you rattle off random movie endings.

A deep laugh bubbles up in his throat, genuine amusement lighting up his face. "*All of those endings? And here I thought my choice in movies was too basic." His fingers tracing patterns on your wrist where it rests against his shoulder. "Glad to still you’re still at it with the movie reviews.”

Your eyes trace the curve of his nose, the way his hair reflects against the dimming sun. "You really have grown up, you used to hate those."  There is a playful lilt in your voice, remembering how said 'reviews' mostly consisted of you texting him spoilers to movies he had threatened to go see without you.

"Because they were always spot-on and ruined every surprise twist," his eyes crinkle at the corners. There had been several times where he'd received mid-movie texts, spoiling the entire plot in a single sentence.

"Your fault for not bringing the critic with you." You find yourself tracing a thumb across the fabric of his shirt, betraying your fondness.You pause, your hand lingering, then remove it, heart fluttering slightly as you retreat into your own thoughts.

His shoulder feels colder without your touch, but he says nothing, watching your hand pull away. Swallowing, he cracks a joke to hide the sudden weight that settles in his chest. "You're lucky I didn't block your number back then."

You laugh at his playful threat. "I would have just written you notes and put you under your pillow." You think of the others written and placed there - funny jokes, apologies after a fight - little messages left just for him.

"Then I would just have to start throwin’ away all of your notes." he shoots back, as if he didn’t bring boxes of your mementos with him to college. His sentimental side had always hoarded memories, tied to random tokens. You wouldn’t be surprised if he had already started his collection up again.

You shake your head, exhaling a sound that’s half-amused, half-soft. You linger on the facets of himself, perfectly clear through a prism of devotion. The wire-y eight year old, standing guard at your hospital bed - the too-tall 15 year old carrying you to bed in the summers where your voice would be hoarse from late night talks. The young man, on his way to flight academy. And the Colonel, strict and unfeeling to hide the depths of his emotion from the rest of the world

"Hey, what's going on in that head of yours, hmm?" His thumb brushes gently against your jaw, a tender gesture that belies the strength in his hand.

You meet his gaze, and for just a second, the longing rises to the surface, a raw need that you can’t quite disguise. "The same thing we can't decide if we're allowed to talk about or not.” His breath catches at your words, suspended in the tension of too much that has gone unsaid, gravity dancing around feelings too big to name

"Right," he murmurs, thumb coasting along the ridge of your jaw. "That.”

"We're not kids playing house anymore, Caleb." You let each word fall carefully, mirroring the ones uttered from past his cracked facade, allowing you to see the vulnerable man underneath. He seems to remember too - for just a moment, the mask is back up, before he works his jaw, mentally dismantling the reflexive barrier that enabled him to survive the distance between you both.

“Don’t hide from me, this is hard enough already.” You admonish, scrunching your face in disapproval.

He chuckles softly, his eyes softening as he watches you fluster. "You think this is hard for you?" He leans in a bit closer. “You should see how many times I rehearsed asking you to stay in Skyhaven with me.” You have to look away as he speaks, the affection in his voice palpable. The evening light casts a warm glow on you, making you feel like you’re glowing from the inside out.

"And locking me up is what you settled on?"  you ask, teasing but with a hint of incredulity at his misstep at Skyhaven.

He grins sheepishly, shrugging helplessly as he catches your incredulous look. "Hey, give me some credit. At least I landed in the general facility of what I was trying to say. Getting you to say and keeping you safe were the goals, even if the execution was….” He trails off, hand wavering back and forth in front of him.

You laugh, unable to hide your amusement. Only Caleb would try to remain optimistic in his botched attempt to protect you, the sole determination of success being you were still speaking with him. A swell of affection hits you, and before you can stop yourself, you rock forward to hug him, stomach flipping, nerves and emotions all tangled up inside.

His arms immediately wrap around you, pulling you close. He buries his face in your hair as he inhales. ".....You're laughing?” He murmurs, his voice muffled against your hair. “I'm choosing to take that as a compliment on my planning and foresight skills. "

You draw in a breath, heart thumping wildly in your chest, and for a moment, the space between you feels like it might shatter. The thing that whispers creeps across the back of your mind, hissing in excitement at the proximity. The waning sun pours gold into your apartment, and one half of his face is bright, matching your own. One half of a whole. You grab at his back and envelop him in a hug, trying to grab and squeeze yourself back into the single being you are certain that you both once were.
There’s a beep from the holoscreen, and it also notifies you of your proximity to him. Your breath fans softly across Caleb’s lips, your body tucked against his side like you belong there. You don’t. You do. You twist away from his arms, looking up at the holographic display to check the status of the food delivery.
Caleb watches you, a soft smile spreading across his face as you move. Your hair falls over your shoulder, the light catching your profile in such a way it takes his breath away. He ruminates - he doubts there has ever been a version of himself that did not live for these moments with you.

He stays stock still, an attempt to prolong the contact you keep on his arm just a bit longer. The tracking screen shows the delivery drone approaching, and from the other side of the window a small, glowing drone descends. It pauses briefly, calibrating, before opening up to reveal their order. Peerfect timing.

You pull yourself up from the couch, latching open the window to grab the takeout containers from inside the small floating vessel. You balance the food in your hands, the additional appetizer you had ordered for him stacked on top .You settle back next to him, a little closer than before.
He watches you, appreciating how seamlessly you transition from the emotional to the practical. "You did good with those extras," he says, nodding toward the appetizers. "You know me too well." His tone is teasing but gentle.

You beam at him, happily picking at your food, cooling down a bite with a breath.

Caleb watches you, warmth flooding his chest as he takes a bite of his meal. After swallowing, he pauses, looking at you. "Though I’m pretty sure you ordered way more than we need.
"Oh no," you tease, "who will make the sacrifice to eat Caleb’s favorite crunchy fried noodles?" You smirk as you dig into the container.
He laughs, moving the appetizer plate closer to you. "Those are obviously going to disappear entirely, aren’t they?" He watches as you reach for another piece, amused he leans closer. "Do you even plan to leave any for me?”
"Not if you don’t start eating now,"  You hold up a fried noodle, crunching it with a snap.
He grins, snatching a fried noodle for himself before you can swipe more. He holds it aloft like a prize he intends to keep from you.."Ah ah ah, I get some too. You're too quick with these.”
"Hmm... I don’t know, that doesn’t sound like me.” You give him a look of smug satisfaction. "Poor Caleb, having to show restraint and share." There’s an interesting mix of banter and something deeper, the teasing undercut with a shared intimacy. His breath hitches.

As you both continue to eat, Caleb can't help but steal glances at you between bites, enraptured. He watches as you sneak more of the appetizer on your plate, putting aside his own empty container. With a playful smirk, he reaches over to snag the last fried noodle, popping it into his mouth. "Looks like I won the noodle war.” He declares, a bit too proud.
Your smile lights up the room, your good mood and the warmth of shared laughter softening the air between you. Beneath it all, though, there’s an undercurrent of something else, something deeper, radiating from you like a subtle pulse. "Yeah, yeah, okay. At ease, Captain Caleb.”
The nickname makes something flutter in his chest - memories of shared jokes, inside references, history created only for the two of you. His hand moves to hover over the space where his necklace rests, feeling the metal rest against his chest. Your finger makes contact first, snaking its way between his chest and hand. He shifts slightly to give you better access as he pulls the tags out from under his shirt. You watch him pull up the chain, the silver glinting in the dim light. He reveals the pendant with the apple charm dangling alongside.

"They’re right here." His voice is low and intimate, meant only for you.

You reach out with both hands, fingers grazing the warmed metal with a reverence only you can understand. You smooth the engraving under your fingertips. He watches your hands carefully trace over the engraving, eyes tender as they look from your hands to your face. You have always anchored him, in every sense. You trace your finger over to his, brushing the tips of them together. It elicits a sound from you both.

“We…..we can't keep talking our way around this, Caleb." You skim your teeth against the bottom of your lip, wondering what the metal would taste like against your lips. The simple touch is a siren song to the creature that drags across the back of your mind growing - playing games with boundaries and rewriting them to dust.

His eyes flick down to your lips, then back up to your gaze. He swallows hard, his thumb beginning a slow, tender motion over your knuckles.. "I know,” his voice is feather light, the depth of emotion in his voice unignorable. "I know."
You wonder who will break first - who will recognize the something that has slept under the surface for so long, now a resident under your own skin. Your eyelashes flutter at the pressure of his touch, the warmth of his hand sending shivers down your spine. You breathe out slowly, trying to steady yourself. The leash slips from your hands.
“You first.”
“What do you want to know, Pip? That I knew I was in love with you at seventeen? That I think about you every second I’m away?” His thumb continues its slow, gentle motion on your skin, each stroke sending waves of heat through your body. “That the only reason I survived my accidental flight into Deepspace was because the thought of never seeing you again was worse than dying?” He swallows hard, his chest rising and falling slightly quicker than usual.
You swallow hard, your heart pounding in your chest. You can feel the weight of his words, the undulation of the creature hammering against your ribcage to be let out.  You stare into his eyes, seeing the rawness, the need, the vulnerability in them. None of them surprise you - you had read them from the tilt of his brow and the brush of hands against your own. You ask a question in return.
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
His fingers curl into fists against the couch cushion. He can’t look at you, can’t bear to see the way the truth hangs between you, fragile and sharp. "What would I have said?" he mutters, his voice tight. His words carve themself against you, and you close your eyes to focus on the drag of his thumb across your skin. "You were a kid, and I was supposed to protect you…..I-I was your brother, and that had to be enough.”
“No, it’s not.”
Caleb’s breath hitches, his thumb pausing for a moment. You begin your own confession.

"I don't know when it started, if I'm being completely honest." You think of seesaws and swings, running in the rain and riding in his old truck. Of weekend trips to college, of midnight walks to the grocery store around the block. You think of fire, and the gnawing void left behind with his death, and continue. "But now that it's here, I feel...incomplete when you're not here. And that scares me, because I lost you once before." you press your lips together, ignoring the tears pricking at the eyes you keep closed. "But it also feels....hungry. Like if I don't steal the air from your lungs, I'll suffocate." You fight against the shiver running up your spine. "I've wanted before, but not - nothing like this. Not something that I can’t keep at bay.”

There’s only silence, and you open your eyes to see the stunned expression of soft and pleading puppy-dog eyes. He's absolutely beautiful, dark lashes urs framing the purple pink of his eyes, cherry blossoms at dusk. Desire hisses in your ear all of the things you could do, how to take away the pain lingering beneath and wrap yourself around one another.

A low, incredulous chuckle escapes him, tinged with a hint of pain. "You think I'm someone you can't have?"

You jolt, with the intensity of his gaze, a shared want to step across every line that has ever been drawn between you. Caleb's eyebrows raise almost imperceptibly at your reaction, a spark of realization igniting in those violet-pink eyes. He leans in closer, voice dropping to a low murmur. “There has never been a part of me that wasn’t already yours.”
The slithering thing’s laughter rings in your brain as you attempt to break away from the thoughts consuming you. “Caleb. I- We both know that you can’t say no to me.”
“ And I can’t - shouldn’t drag you into this.” Your fingers curl against his thumb, sharp points of your nails biting against the flesh. “You give in to me, and I can't be the one to drag you into... into whatever is happening."

His hand flinches at the pressure of your nails against his skin, and his gaze sharpens with a new intensity. He turns your hand over, his palm pressing firmly against yours, trapping your fingers beneath his. "And what if I want to be dragged down?" he murmurs, voice low, almost dangerous.
You gasp at the feeling of his rough hand against yours, so much bigger than your own and radiating heat. You think of oaths made to one another - He would protect the skies, and you would protect the earth - his tether, letting him fly while you wait to welcome him back with open arms. Whatever you both had created, it thrived on the precious balance between you both.
 But now you long to clip his wings, ground him next to you or let go completely and meet one another somewhere amongst the stars.

"You can't let me do that. We - we have to be strong for each other. We're all we have left." You search his eyes. All you see reflected back is the same desire, the same struggle.

His forehead touches your own, breath mingling warm and rapid in the space between you. “....Why? Is it because I wasn’t strong enough alone, couldn’t protect you from the world, from myself?” The finely tuned equilibrium had been tilting for years, gravity enacting its unchanging will with a thumb on the scale. “Is it because you think you need to take care of your brother, because he can’t keep his hands to himself?”

You nearly whimper how sinful his words sound, falling out of his mouth with practiced ease. The snake coils and stretches, its desire mirrored by Caleb’s hand, which moves with a languid, almost obscene motion. His eyes hold a silent challenge, seeking a solution to the question that’s no doubt haunted him for years. Another part of you struggles to reconcile the hopeful brother you once knew with the desperate man in front of you now. He continues to speak.
"Is that why you look at me like that? Like you…." His sentence falters, lost in the depth of his feelings. His hand releases yours, moving to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. "Like you want to..."
"Because I do." You snap at him, and you feel the burden begin to loosen, lifting off your chest. His violet eyes remain wide and trusting, like a dog who doesn’t understand why he’s being reprimanded. As if resisting temptation were the real punishment. The twisting desperation closes in on itself, the last modicum of rational thought seeping through the coils as it writhes for you to blot out the rest. You are in his lap, and he watches you intently, his eyes tracking every small movement you make. “And I hate how we keep pulling away from each other.”
His eyes flutter closed as he listens. "Every time we do..." His voice catches, thick with emotion. "Every time we stop..." His lips graze your forehead without intention, a barely perceptible touch, but it lingers. He seems to catch himself, and you feel his head shake- an internal decision made as his thumb continues brushing across your lip, memorizing the feeling of you.
"Sometimes I wonder..." His voice is barely audible now, his lips so close to yours that you can feel his breath warm on your skin. "If this isn’t some form of torture—loving someone you can’t have. Being so entirely at their mercy." His thumb slips against your lip, brushing against your teeth. He pulls back as if electrified, hypnotized as he brings his thumb to his own mouth. He whispers. "I imagine what it would feel like... if we didn’t have to pull away.”
His other hand comes up to cup your cheek, eyes boring into your own with an intensity that makes your heart race. "I imagine how soft your lips would feel against mine. How sweet you would taste.” He swallows hard, his voice dropping lower, threatening to break. "I imagine the little sounds you'd make... if I ever got the chance to ki-”

The snake lunges, and strikes. Words die on his lips as you press your own against his, mouth parting as if breathing in life itself. His eyes widen in shock, but he doesn’t pull away. His lips answer with a desperate frenzy, as if he’s starved for this connection. His free hand tangles in your hair, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss. Time suspends itself - all that exists is the heat of his mouth, his taste, the pounding of his heart against yours. When you finally break apart for air, his hands cup your face, breath ragged.

“I-" he mutters, voice hoarse with desire and shock. "... we can't... this isn't..." But even as he protests, his lips find yours again, softer this time, more reverent. His hand releases yours, cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin.
Your chest heaves with raw emotion, your body caught between the electric need for more and the need to stop. You kiss him back, soft moans slipping from your lips. "I know." Your hands slide around the back of his neck, pulling yourself closer. "We need to stop." You whisper the words, but they sound weak, even to you, as your mouth parts and your tongue brushes against his. The taste of you is intoxicating, and Caleb is lost in the sensation, the supernova igniting between you both.
He breaks the kiss abruptly, his breathing ragged, eyes wild with longing. "We need to stop," he says again, his voice barely more than a whisper. But his body remains still pressed against yours, his hand tangled in your hair. You’re just as breathless as he is, your body flushed, and you vaguely wonder how you ended up pressed so close against him, legs parted above his own. You nod, slow and dazed, body laden with desire and unwilling to move.
“Then just - stay with me. Like this, for just a moment.” His gaze drops to your lips as you speak, swollen and pink from the intensity of your kisses. It takes every ounce of his self-control not to lean in again. At your command, his arms wrap possessively around you.
"Like this?" His arms tighten around your waist, holding you in place, afraid that if he lets go, you’ll disappear. "Is this close enough?” His hands slide down to your hips, pulling you closer, as if he’s trying to absorb every part of you into himself.
Your breath hitches against his, suffocating in its intensity. You feel his shaking hands cling to your hips, and your eyelashes flutter closed, trying not to cant forward into him. The energy between you is deathly sensual and cloying - the thing has outgrown you and escaped, winding itself around both of you, leaving no room to breathe.
He inhales deeply, drawing your scent into his lungs, letting it cloud his mind. His hands on your hips flex, digging his fingers into your soft flesh possessively. The invisible thread between you pulls tighter, wrapping around you like a cocoon, blocking out everything else. He feels the small puff of air against his cheek as you laugh, his mouth lingering to explore the column of your neck with messy, lathing strokes of his tongue. Stay? Go? Words seem to disjoint and lose meaning compared to the friction between you, the dangerous press of your bodies. His roaming grip tightens.
His reaction is entrancing, limbs shaking with need as he fights against base desires that neither of you should know. He closes his eyes, taking deep, measured breaths in an attempt to calm his racing heart. His fingers dig into yousoft flesh, a silent warning for you not to move as he battles with himself. Your chests heave in time with one another, no longer push-pull but synchronized in mutually assured destruction. Seeing him attempt to wrestle back his self control leaves dark thoughts dripping through your mind, suggestions on how to make him come undone beneath you, whispering for the way you could move your hips and claim him as your own.

“Caleb, please. Stay.” His head snaps up at the sound of your voice, eyes wild and desperate. The conflict in his gaze deepens, a silent war raging between his self-control and the primal, all-consuming need to obey you. His lips part, a shaky breath escaping as he tries to form a response.

"Y-you should move. Please." His voice comes out strained, almost pained. There is no bravado, no confidence as his lips linger on your pulse point, feeling it flutter faster. He audibly gulps, his face flushing red at his own embarrassing attempt to talk. He squeezes his eyes shut, desperately trying to think of anything  other than the friction you have now started to bare down on him with.

You find your own voice, and it nearly surprises you in its courage to be heard. "Please, Caleb, just a *little* bit longer?" You craft a faux-innocent beg, a weapon to be used during the most stubborn of arguments between you both.

A broken laugh mixes with a whimper, his mind threatening to short-circuit at the sweetly manipulative tone as he processes exactly what you’re doing. His hips buck up involuntarily, seeking more contact despite his mental commands to stay still. His eyes flicker open briefly, glassy from the effort of holding back. You see the conflict written on his face, and you wonder about the physics classes he took back in college. Of cats in and not in boxes, both dead and alive.

"Caleb," It's a question and it's not.

You see his pure desire at odds with the need to protect you- the fear that he is ruining what is between you both hangs above his head like the sword of Damocles. A moment of hesitation, and then his hands tighten painfully on your backside, pulling you harder against his hips. His voice comes out muffled against your neck, barely audible. "Okay.” He bites his lip hard enough to draw blood, trying to focus on the pain instead of the overwhelming desire coursing through him. “Whatever you want. Anything you want.”