What if's with Caleb

[R18] What if he calls you a Brat?

Author's note: Hello! New update here! So sorry it's been a while since I wrote something thats R18 so bare with me if it is stiff or not as sensual as usual but I really tried lmao. Anyways hope you guys enjoy and be sure to follow me on my twt (X) @cyzbwrites to get more updates and sometimes sneak peaks hehehe~

__________________________________________

The slam of the door echoed louder than you intended. You had only meant to punctuate your annoyance, not shake the frame, but it was too late to take it back. Your chest heaved with the sting of defiance, your shoes half-kicked off and the thud of Caleb's boots followed close behind.

"I was gone for an hour," you snapped over your shoulder, spinning to face him. "An hour, Caleb. Not a war."

His violet eyes locked on you, and for a second you swore they flashed darker, colder.

"An hour without telling me where," he corrected, voice smooth as tempered glass. "You know what's been happening in Linkon. Vanishing like that. Do you have any idea how reckless—"

"I texted," you cut in, waving your phone like proof. "You don't get to act like you own me, Colonel."

The title was spit like venom, but it didn't faze him. His face didn't twitch, didn't crack. That might have been worse. His patience demeanour burned hotter than shouting ever could. He stepped closer, closing the distance in three long strides. You had to tilt your chin to keep his gaze.

"Don't twist this," he said, voice low. "I'm not your enemy. I don't want control...I want you safe."

"Same thing!" you shot back. "Safe according to you means locked in a glass case."

"You think I'm exaggerating?" His eyes narrowed, shadows etching sharper lines across his face. "Do you know what they'd do to you if—"

"Oh, spare me the lecture," you snapped, words sharper than you felt. The heat of his presence was already stirring something treacherous in you, a flutter in your stomach you refused to name.

"You think you can bark orders and I'll roll over like one of your recruits? Newsflash, Caleb—I'm not under your command."

Silence fell like a guillotine. For a long moment, only the sound of your breath filled the room. His gaze burned through you, piercing, unblinking. Then, in a voice like a growl dragged from his chest, he said

"God, you're such a little brat sometimes."

The words hit harder than any scolding. They hung in the air, too sharp to have been calculated. Caleb never slipped like that. He was precision incarnate. Always measured. Always composed. But this—this was something else, a crack in the armor.

Your breath stalled. The retort on your tongue shriveled. Heat surged down your spine, pooling hot and humiliating between your thighs. Your face lit red so fast you could feel the burn in your ears. Your body betrayed you completely, clenching, and heating under the weight of two words.

Your pulse raced. Your mouth stayed shut.

Caleb saw. He always saw. His brows lifted, just slightly, before sinking again with recognition. A slow, devastating smirk curved his lips—the kind that made your knees weak and your pride scream.

"Well," he murmured, stepping in closer until your back hit the wall, "look at this." His tone was silk over steel, teasing and dangerous. "That... did something to you."

You shook your head too fast. "Don't be—ridiculous."

"Ridiculous?" He tilted his head, eyes drinking in the scarlet flush crawling down your throat. His mechanical hand rose, cool fingers curling under your chin to tip your face up. "You're blushing."