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Reasons Calderon Lynch is Going to Hell

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The stowaway, has lost their memories.

The stowaway is vulnerable.

The stowaway is sweet, and trusting, and deserves better.

Calderon reminded himself, as he gripped his holopad far tighter than was necessary or recommended.  

A moment ago, Aya had walked past with the devil in her eyes, so Calderon had thought he was prepared for whatever it was that she’d been up to.

He was not prepared.  At all.  

The stowaway, was wearing one of his old t-shirts, rolled up and tied so that their waist was exposed, so slender Calderon could imagine circling it between his thumbs and forefingers.

Years of military training and a betrayal that still felt like a dagger lodged in his chest, and none of it could keep him from looking every single chance he got.

“I guess this is better than wearing it as a shapeless dress,” they admitted, to Aya, “but it still feels a little scandalous.”

“Scandalous, schmandalous, you look fab, instead of drab now.  Don’t they, Cal?”

“I’m sure I don’t know the first thing about fashion,” he responded, keeping his gaze firmly on his holopad.

In his peripheral vision, he saw Aya sling her arm over the stowaway’s shoulders, bumping their hip with hers, in a move Calderon would classify as casually friendly, except for the way she stayed draped over them afterward, looking obnoxiously smug.

“Don’t worry, he’s just mad that everything he wears looks like a uniform on him, because of the stick lodged-”

“Aya!” Bash’s excited voice interrupted through the intercom.  “I made a modification on the water tank that you’re going to love.  Come to engineering.”

Aya rolled her eyes so hard they looked in danger of getting stuck facing her brain.

“Ugh, I gotta go take a look or he’ll keep bugging me.”  

Teasingly, she pinched the stowaway’s exposed side, causing them to startle, a surprised squeak escaping their lips.

Calderon’s holopad screen flickered ominously, as he nearly crushed the life right out of it.  

Teeth clenching, it was all he could do not to scowl at his vindictively gleeful pilot as she sashayed by him.

Feeling irritated at himself, Calderon took a deep breath, and subtly released it.

The stowaway, has lost their memories.

The stowaway is vulnerable.

The stowaway is sweet, and trusting, and deserves better.

The stowaway had meandered closer while Calderon was doing his sanity check, and when he glanced down at them he could see the curve of their collarbones and then slightly beyond, before the V-neck on his shirt cast their skin in shadow.

Calderon’s fingers twitched with the urge to trace the line of bone, and it was then he started to realize just how fucked he truly was.

It was late.  They would be at Teranium in the next nine hours, and Calderon was heading to his bunk to sleep for a few of those hours, when he nearly tripped over the stowaway.

They were curled up in the hallway, peering out the starboard window, or at least they had been before he nearly kicked them, and now they were staring up at him with those wide, innocent, eyes of theirs. 

“Don’t you have a bed to sleep in?” he snapped.

“I’m sorry.”

They stood to their feet too quickly and wobbled dangerously- enough for Calderon to have an excuse to touch them, grabbing their arm to help them keep on their feet.

“If you fall and bump your head again, Ryona might just kill you.”

“After you were done?” they joked.

Calderon’s mind immediately dove head first into the gutter, imagining all the ways he could be done with them.  Leaving them sweaty and gasping, or maybe crying in frustration, or-

“You should get some sleep,” he decisively interrupted his dirty thoughts.

“Yes, sir,” the stowaway nodded.

Calderon had thought the rush of possessive jealousy was ridiculous, but it was nothing compared to the slow, warm, coil of heat that settled in his gut at those words on their lips.  That easy obedience that just made him want to push to see how far it went.

“Don’t dawdle,” he added, half regretting it because he didn’t really want them to hurry.

“Yes, sir.” 

They tugged on their arm still in his grip, looking up at him with confusion, and Calderon released them immediately, willing back a threatening blush at how fucking obvious he was being.

This person should absolutely not have this kind of effect on him, particularly not now, and yet… 

The stowaway looked up at him, and even in the dim lighting, he could tell they were blushing.  

It made his fingers twitch, but he thankfully had enough self control not to touch them again.  

The stowaway, has lost their memories.

The stowaway is vulnerable.

The stowaway is sweet, and trusting, and deserves better.

The stowaway, bid him goodnight, which he returned, waiting till their door shut behind them before rushing into his bunk, his hand in his pants before the door even shut behind him.


The stowaway, is a fucking royal.


Calderon, has imagined their royal majesty on their knees, with tears running down their cheeks as they choked on his cock, and he isn’t quite sure how he’s supposed to feel about that.  

Well, he’s obviously supposed to feel bad- guilty, if not straight up horrified.  They’re supposed to be someone held nearly sacred in his mind, and here he’s been fucking them up in various satisfying ways in both waking and sleeping dreams, for the past week.

And that isn’t even mentioning the flirting and the eye fucking that he’s just as guilty of as Damon, he’s just slightly more subtle about it.  

But mostly Calderon just felt ridiculous.  It’s reckless and dangerous, any way he looks at it, and he just doesn’t fucking care, even though he knows he should.


Their royal majesty is vulnerable.

Their royal majesty is sweet, and trusting, and sure as hell deserves better.

Their royal majesty’s pupils blow wide whenever Calderon leans close, and he’s going to find out just how good they are at following orders, sometime before he sits their royal ass back on their royal throne where it belongs.


If that isn’t dutiful, he doesn’t know what the hell is.