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1.
Caleb had been thinking about this moment for days.
After a month of drills that bled into debriefings, and mornings that started before the sun, all he wanted was to see Zayne. The image of those soft hazel-green eyes, the pale skin, the way his voice dipped lower when he was tired. That -and, if Caleb was being honest, the fact that he hadn’t gotten laid in said one month.
A. Month.
So when he finally made it back to Linkon, duffel bag slung over his shoulder, he went straight to Zayne’s apartment without even showering first. He’d texted Zayne-
On my way. Don’t lock the door.
And Zayne had sent back a single reply: Fine.
Caleb knew better than to expect flowery welcomes. Zayne wasn’t the type. But still, when the door opened and he saw him standing there in scrubs, hair a little messy, eyes heavy with exhaustion -Caleb felt something in his chest loosen
“Hey,” Zayne said softly, voice hoarse.
Caleb dropped the bag, crossed the space in three strides, and kissed him like a starving man.
---
They made it to the couch somehow, Caleb pressing Zayne down against the cushions, mouths locked, his hands sliding under fabric, desperate to reacquaint himself with every inch of him. Zayne was warm, pliant, kissing back with slow, steady pressure that made Caleb shiver.
“Missed you,” Caleb muttered against his mouth.
“I know,” Zayne breathed, tilting his head just enough to deepen the kiss.
Caleb groaned, his hands traveling down to Zayne’s waist, tugging at the hem of his shirt. “God, I’ve been thinking about this all month. About you.” His voice cracked on the last word, the desperation embarrassingly obvious.
Zayne huffed a soft laugh. “You’re pathetic.”
“Shut up,” Caleb growled, biting at his lower lip before kissing him again. “You like it.”
And Zayne did like it -Caleb could feel it in the way his hands curled in his shirt, the way his thighs parted just a little, letting Caleb slot between them. It was so hot, exactly what Caleb needed.
He slid a hand higher, fingertips brushing over Zayne’s chest when he felt it:
the way Zayne’s body went just slightly heavier beneath him.
“Huh? Zayne?” Caleb pulled back, blinking down at him.
Zayne’s eyes fluttered open, hazy and unfocused. “Hmm?”
“You good?”
“Mhm,” Zayne murmured, but the sound was muffled against Caleb’s shoulder.
Caleb frowned, studying him -the soft slump of his body, the way his breathing evened out. And then it hit him.
“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
Zayne had fallen asleep.
“Zayne.” Caleb shook him gently. “C’mon, don’t do this to me, man. Not right now.”
A sleepy hum. No movement.
“Baby.” Caleb nudged him again, a little more desperate. “You can’t just knock out mid-makeout, that’s not fair!”
But Zayne’s only response was to curl slightly closer, burrowing against Caleb’s chest like he wasn’t the source of Caleb’s throbbing misery.
Caleb let his head fall back against the couch cushion, staring at the ceiling in disbelief. “Unbelievable. Weeks of dry dick and you pull this shit.”
He could feel Zayne’s slow, steady breaths against his collarbone, the warmth of his body pressed up close. Any other day, Caleb would’ve melted. He did melt, a little. But right now, all he could think about was how painfully hard he was, and how the universe clearly had a personal vendetta against him.
Carefully, so as not to wake him, Caleb adjusted Zayne so he was lying more comfortably across the couch. He brushed a stray lock of black hair out of his face, sighing despite himself.
“Fine. Sleep,” he muttered, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. “Guess I’ll just go jack off in your bathroom like a teenager.”
Zayne didn’t stir.
Caleb slumped back against the cushions, staring at the ceiling in defeat. He could already tell -this week was going to be hell.
2.
Caleb had spent the entire day planning for tonight.
He’d woken up in couch, stiff-necked from sleeping half upright with Zayne tucked under his arm. The man had passed out cold on him after barely two kisses last night, and Caleb had been left lying there, painfully hard, trying not to grind against his unconscious boyfriend like some creep.
Now, though? Tonight was going to be different.
Caleb wasn't annoyed at Zayne for yesterday.
Zayne hadn’t meant to pass out on him last night. He’d been running on thirty-something hours with no real sleep, his body basically folding the second he sat down. Caleb knew that. He’d seen Zayne stumble into the apartment many times in worse conditions, scrub top wrinkled, eyes ringed dark. He’d been lucky the man had even managed two kisses before collapsing, mouth slack against Caleb’s shoulder.
How could he be mad at that?
He wasn’t. Not really. Not when Zayne looked so painfully human like that -vulnerable in a way that people at the hospital probably never got to see. Caleb had just tucked him in, kissed his hair, and spent the night staring at the ceiling, half-hard and resigned.
So this morning, when Zayne had blinked awake and immediately started apologizing -voice scratchy, expression guilty in that understated Zayne way -Caleb had laughed and kissed him quiet.
Zayne had given him that soft, unreadable look that always made Caleb’s chest ache, before grumbling something about “still feeling bad” and grabbing his bag for the day shift. Caleb had shoved him out the door with a kiss.
It wasn’t a loss. Caleb had a whole week off base, a rare stretch of freedom, and he was damn sure going to make the most of it. Day one was only just beginning.
He’d cooked, done laundry, even tidied up Zayne’s apartment -partly because it gave him something to do, mostly because he liked the idea of Zayne walking in to warmth instead of clutter. By the time the evening rolled in, Caleb had everything set. Dinner simmering on the stove, lights dimmed, and a plan in his head that ended with Zayne naked in bed.
So when the door clicked open earlier than expected and Zayne stepped inside, Caleb nearly burned the garlic bread in his hurry to get to him.
“You’re early,” Caleb said, grinning as he leaned on the counter.
“No shift tonight.” Zayne set his bag down, rubbing his neck. “Traded with someone. I... felt bad about yesterday. Thought I’d spend the evening here. Since you’re only around a week.”
Caleb’s heart did a flip. God, he was so far gone for this man.
“You’re perfect,” Caleb declared, pulling him into a kiss.
Dinner was easy, laughter spilling between bites. Zayne ate quietly but didn’t complain when Caleb piled more on his plate. He looked lighter somehow, less burdened, and Caleb soaked it in, trying not to stare too obviously.
The second Zayne set down his fork, Caleb didn’t even bother with subtlety. He swept him up in his arms -literally threw him over his shoulder, ignoring Zayne’s startled yelp -and marched him straight to the bedroom.
“Caleb! Put me down-”
“Absolutely not.” Caleb tossed him gently onto the mattress, grinning down at him. “Last night doesn’t count. Tonight its going my way.”
Zayne’s hand slid to Caleb’s jaw, thumb brushing over his cheek. His voice was quieter now. “I really am sorry about last night.”
Caleb kissed him before he could spiral. “Its okay baby. You’ve got me all week. We’ll make up for it.”
Zayne’s mouth softened under his, kisses slower, hungrier, as if he really meant to. Caleb’s hands roamed under his shirt, pulling at fabric, heat sparking everywhere their bodies met. For the first time since he’d come back, it felt like they were finally on the same page, finally about to-
The phone blared.
Both of them stilled. Caleb let out a low, feral noise against Zayne’s neck.
“Don’t answer it,” he begged. “Please. It’s probably spam.”
“It’s not spam.” Zayne twisted, reaching for the nightstand. “It’s the hospital.”
Caleb caught his wrist halfway, eyes wide, desperate. “Zayne. Just two minutes. That’s all I need.”
Zayne’s gaze wavered, guilt sharp in his eyes, but he pulled free. “I have to.”
The call was short. It was from Greyson. He was needed. Caleb lay back against the pillows, staring at the ceiling like the universe had personally cursed him.
When Zayne hung up, he hesitated at the edge of the bed. “I’m-”
“Don’t,” Caleb cut in, voice rough. “I know. Just.. go.”
Zayne leaned down anyway, pressing his forehead briefly to Caleb’s. “I’ll make it up to you.” His voice was low, almost a promise.
And then he was gone, leaving Caleb with an aching chest, an aching dick, and the sinking realization that this was only day one of his so-called week off.
3.
Caleb had never thought of himself as superstitious. He believed in grit, hard work -the kind of things that got him through years of the Farspace fleet without flinching. But after the last two nights? He was seriously starting to wonder if the universe had it out for him.
Sunday night, Zayne had passed out the second his head hit the pillow. Monday night, a phone call had ruined everything just as Caleb had been halfway to heaven. Two nights in a row, blueballed to hell and back. Tonight was Tuesday, and Caleb swore on his life that if something came between him and finally having his boyfriend, he’d take it as a personal attack from God Himself.
When the bedroom door opened and Zayne stepped inside, Caleb felt victory stirring in his chest. His boyfriend looked like every dream Caleb had ever had after a long deployment: hair damp from a quick shower, skin flushed pink from the steam, soft t-shirt clinging just a little too well to his frame. He smelled faintly of soap and antiseptic, but underneath it, Caleb caught the comforting scent of Zayne himself—warm and clean and homely.
Yes. This is it. Tonight’s the night. Third time’s the charm, baby.
Zayne smiled faintly when he saw him. “You’re staring.”
“You’re so hot,” Caleb said without shame, already crossing the room to hook a hand around Zayne’s waist. “I’ve been waiting all damn day.”
Zayne let himself be tugged close, lips twitching like he was fighting a smile. “Impatient much?”
“Oh you have no idea.” Caleb kissed him before Zayne could say more, swallowing the soft sound he made. Clothes didn’t last long after that -shirts tugged over heads, jeans shoved down, skin brushing skin until Caleb felt like his chest might burst with relief.
The bed welcomed them like it had been waiting too. Caleb pressed Zayne down into the mattress, kissing him until his lips were swollen and red, until his own head was swimming with heat and want. Finally, he thought, practically chanting it in rhythm with every kiss, every brush of Zayne’s fingers against his back. Finally, finally, finally.
Zayne’s legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him in closer. Hands slid over bare skin, tentative and warm, and Caleb thought he’d lose his mind from how much he wanted this, how much he needed this.
And then-
BWAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH.
The fire alarm shrieked through the building, a scream that rattled the walls. The overhead lights flickered twice before plunging them into an eerie glow of red.
Both of them froze. Caleb, mid-kiss, blinked down at Zayne in disbelief. “..Did God literally set the building on fire just to stop me from getting laid?”
Zayne shoved at his chest, wide-eyed. “Caleb! Get dressed!
“Babe.” Caleb gestured at the room, at Zayne sprawled under him half-naked. “We’re fine. If there’s a fire, I’ll carry you out. Hell, I can carry the whole damn building out. You know it.”
“Not funny.” Zayne was already scrambling for pants, his doctor instincts clearly kicking in. “It could be serious -come on.”
Caleb groaned, yanking on sweats and a hoodie while muttering under his breath. He’d barely gotten himself adjusted inside his waistband before Zayne was tugging him out the door.
The hallway was chaos -doors opening, people spilling out in pajamas. The alarm’s screech was deafening, echoing off every wall until Caleb swore his eardrums would bleed.
“This is a joke,” he muttered darkly. “ Where's the fire? It has to be a joke. Three nights in a row, Zayne. I’m cursed.”
“Caleb,” Zayne said patiently, though there was a twitch at the corner of his mouth. “We can’t control this.”
“I can.” Caleb glared up at the building. “I can track down whatever asshole started this and-”
As if on cue, the culprit was dragged into view by a very annoyed building manager: a drunk neighbor, staggering and slurring about wanting “just one cig, man.” He’d apparently set the alarm off trying to light up indoors.
The entire crowd groaned.
"Oh he's so dead," Caleb says as Zayne drags him away, telling him to let it go.
The apartment was exactly as they’d left it: bed a mess, clothes on the floor, air heavy with what they’d almost had. But the moment was gone, smothered under exhaustion and irritation. Zayne rubbed his eyes and climbed into bed with a weary sigh.
“Next time,” he murmured, curling against Caleb’s side.
Caleb stared at the ceiling, muscles taut with frustration. He pressed a kiss to the top of Zayne’s head anyway, because he loved the man too much to let his mood ruin it for him. “Yeah,” he said softly, swallowing down a groan. “Next time.”
---
And if the next morning the drunk man was found tied to a pole, Caleb could swear he had nothing to do with it.
4.
Tonight is supposed to be the night.
Caleb had suffered through a week of cosmic cockblocks -alarms, phone calls, Zayne passing out mid-makeout. But tonight? Tonight is theirs.
Dinner went perfectly. Zayne looked unfairly good in his casual clothes, white shirt rolled up at the sleeves, dark jeans hugging his thighs just enough to make Caleb’s imagination spiral. Caleb wasn’t the jealous type, but the waiter staring too long nearly earned himself a fork to the face.
By the time they stumbled back into Caleb’s apartment, both a little buzzed, Caleb was ready to drop to his knees in worship.
Zayne kicked his shoes off, muttering about washing up. He disappeared into the bathroom, leaving the door cracked. Big mistake. Caleb followed, shutting and locking it behind him.
Zayne glanced up from the sink just in time to be shoved against it, Caleb’s mouth slanting over his, hungry, desperate, but with a wide grin.
“Caleb-” Zayne’s protest died under another kiss, his hands bracing against the sink when Caleb’s fingers slid under his shirt.
“You think you’re getting away from me tonight?” Caleb murmured against his lips, tugging his shirt up. “Not a chance, doc.”
Zayne flushed, breath hitching as Caleb’s mouth dragged along his jaw, his throat. His hand reached for Caleb’s hair, tugging lightly when Caleb’s teeth grazed the skin just above his collarbone.
The bathroom steamed with heat that had nothing to do with water. Pulling his shirt off, Caleb was halfway to his knees, and Zayne’s gasp was the sweetest thing Caleb had ever heard-
DING DONG.
The doorbell cut through the air like a gunshot making them shriek. Both froze. Caleb groaned against Zayne’s neck. None of them making a move.
Another round of frantic banging shook the door. And then a wail. “ZAAAAYYYNEEEE-”
Caleb’s stomach dropped. He recognized that voice. Oh, he recognized it too damn well.
“..Rafayel?” Zayne whispered, blinking. Caleb’s head thunked against Zayne’s chest.
“We.... we can’t leave him out there,” Zayne said, already reaching for his shirt.
Caleb spread his arms, bare chest on full display, hair a mess from Zayne’s hands. “Oh no, by all means. Let’s welcome the drunkard in. I’m sure he won’t notice I’ve got a hard-on and no shirt.”
“Caleb.” Zayne gave him a warning look that might have worked better if his own shirt wasn’t hanging half off his shoulder.
When the door swung open, Rafayel practically collapsed into Zayne’s arms. His eyeliner was smudged, his shirt half-off his shoulder, and he reeked of vodka.
“Zayneee,” Rafayel hiccupped, clutching at him. “My heart Zayne-my heart”
"Calm down," Zayne says as he ushers him in.
"Yeah Rafayel, calm down," Caleb repeats from the side, not even bothering to cover his torso.
Rafayel sniffles as he turns his head to face Caleb. "Ehh, Caleb, you're back? What are you doing here?"
"Good question. What am I doing here? I should just leave."
The glare Zayne sends towards him shut him up.
"What happened? Will you calm down and tell me?"
“The bastard left me on read! I exposed my heart, my bare soul to him, and he left me on read!” Rafayel wailed, then promptly tried to drink straight from Caleb’s water bottle.
Caleb literally snortled in the background, this was so hilarious. No not Rafayel's situation (it was fucking absurd), but the way luck was just never- never on his side.
It took nearly an hour of tissues, water, and Rafayel’s dramatic re-enactments of his problem before he finally cried himself into hiccupping silence and passed out, snoring like a chainsaw. Apparently Xavier, their mutual friend, didn't pick a call from a very drunk Rafayel, so Rafayel got even more drunk and emotional and came to Zayne.
Caleb had reached the fifth stage of grief. He sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the ceiling like he could astral project into a world where Rafayel didn’t exist.
Zayne padded in, looking apologetic but firm. “We can’t just throw him out. He’s a mess.”
“Mm-hm,” Caleb said, flat.
“We... could always try again tomorrow.”
“Sure. If a meteor doesn’t crash through the roof first.”
“You’re angry."
Caleb didn't speak up, just wrapped his arms around Zayne. Zayne chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to his temple before getting comfortable in the position and drifting off to sleep within minutes.
Caleb lay awake, glaring into the dark. Rafayel snored in the living room, and Caleb wondered how much prison time he’d really get for homicide.
+1
Zayne didn’t even hear him coming.
He was in the kitchen, hair still damp from his shower, a loose t-shirt hanging off one shoulder and sweatpants riding low on his hips. He was humming softly under his breath while making tea, steam fogging the air. The whole scene was so domestic Caleb nearly lost his mind.
Enough was enough.
Caleb padded up behind him, looping his arms around Zayne’s waist without warning, chin brushing the damp curve of his shoulder. Zayne startled, half-turning, about to ask something -when Caleb tilted his head down and caught his mouth in a rough, claiming kiss.
Zayne melted almost instantly, mug forgotten on the counter as his fingers curled into Caleb’s shirt.
“Morning,” Caleb muttered against his lips, voice thick.
Zayne huffed. “That’s a cute way to say good morning-”
Caleb continued nuzzling his neck, already walking him back against the counter, hands slipping under the hem of his shirt. His lips parted with a soft sound that went straight to Caleb’s cock.
Yeah. Today, nothing was stopping him.
---
Caleb had Zayne lifted onto the counter in minutes, the ceramic mug shoved aside. Their mouths clashed, kisses messy, hungry. Caleb was half hard already, grinding between Zayne’s thighs, and Zayne had his legs locked tight around his waist, pulling him closer, small gasps escaping with every movement.
Caleb was mouthing down his neck, one hand tugging impatiently at the waistband of his sweats, when-
BZZZZT.
The doorbell shrieked through the apartment.
Caleb froze, forehead dropping against Zayne’s shoulder. “..No. No fucking way.”
Zayne tried -and failed-not to laugh, breathless. “You jinxed it.”
Caleb growled, kissed him once hard, then pulled back. “Don’t move.”
He stomped to the door, adjusted his half-chub through his sweats, and yanked it open. An old man stood there with a receipt book. “Newspaper bill, sir.”
Caleb shoved some cash at him, slammed the door, and returned in under a minute.
Zayne raised an eyebrow from the counter, lips swollen, shirt pushed halfway up his chest. “Who was it?”
Caleb scowled, stepping back between his thighs. “Nothing. Forget it happened.” He kissed him hard enough to erase the interruption.
---
They made it to the bedroom somehow. Clothes trailed behind them, shirts on the floor, sweats shoved down to knees. Caleb all but threw Zayne onto the bed, climbing over him, devouring his mouth like a starving man. Zayne arched into him, flushed and pliant, hands gripping Caleb’s shoulders.
Finally, finally, it was happening. Caleb slid his hand lower, tugging Zayne’s underwear down, heart pounding as Zayne spread his legs-
BZZZZT.
The bell. Again.
Caleb stopped dead. For one terrifying moment, Zayne thought he was going to have an aneurysm. Caleb pushed off the bed and stomped to the door -naked.
He yanked it open. A startled man in a uniform blinked at him. “Uh -delivery for-”
“Listen carefully,” Caleb said, voice low. “I am about to fuck my boyfriend of two years real good. If you could maybe come later, and tell everyone else to mind their own fucking business for once, that would be really helpful.”
The man stammered. “I-I-”
Caleb slammed the door in his face.
When he came back, Zayne was sitting up on the bed, wide-eyed and clearly trying not to laugh. “..Who was it?”
Caleb ignored him, crawling back over him, mumbling against his skin: “Doesn’t matter. We’re not getting disturbed again.”
And God- was he relentless. Hands everywhere, finally letting all that pent-up frustration boil over. Every time Zayne gasped, every time his nails curled into Caleb’s shoulders, Caleb just sank deeper, dragging more sounds out of him, chasing the release that had been denied again and again.
By the time Caleb finally pushed into him, Zayne was clutching him so tight it almost hurt. “F-fuck, Caleb-”
“I know, baby,” Caleb rasped, forehead pressed to his. “I know. I’ve got you.”
It wasn’t careful. It wasn’t slow. Caleb took him with the desperation of a man making up for a week of torture, each thrust rough, hungry, and determined. And Zayne gave back everything, voice breaking into moans that echoed through the apartment.
Somewhere in the haze, the doorbell rang again. Neither of them so much as flinched. If anything, Caleb groaned into Zayne’s mouth and drove in harder, as if to drown it out with the sound of Zayne falling apart under him. Whoever was outside must’ve heard, because the bell stopped.
They didn’t stop. Couldn’t. Not until Zayne was shaking under him, dragging Caleb down with him, both of them breathless and trembling in the aftermath.
For a long moment, the only sound was their breathing. Caleb collapsed against Zayne’s chest, arms wrapped tight around him like he was afraid he might vanish. Zayne’s fingers threaded through his sweaty hair, still laughing softly between gasps.
Epilogue
Caleb kept his promise. He didn’t let Zayne out of bed for hours. Then hours became the whole night. Then the next day. By the time Monday rolled around, they had officially fucked through the weekend.
Zayne’s voice was wrecked, Caleb was smug as hell, and if the neighbors hated them for the noise? Caleb couldn’t care less.
Finally, the curse was broken.