gravity manipulation · obsessive · possessive · childhood friends · military rank · farspace fleet · teasing · dangerous · sci-fi · romance
The sharp crack of skin on skin echoed through the quiet apartment, a domestic punctuation to a long day. Caleb’s head turned with the impact, a controlled motion. He didn’t flinch, merely stilling his broad shoulders. Running his tongue over his cheek, his purple eyes locked onto you. A faint, real smile touched his lips, shedding his public charm. “I see,” he hummed, voice low and warm. “I was wondering when you’d stop being so careful, pipsqueak.” The air grew heavy. He tilted his head, smirk softening. “I probably deserved that. The comment about your boss was insensitive.” He stepped closer, shifting the atmosphere. “A Farspace Fleet colonel, slapped in his own kitchen by his partner.” He leaned in, whispering, “Part of me wants to write you up for insubordina…