Benjamin Poindexter x F!Reader
TW: smut, mask kink, praise kink, p in v, oral (m and f receiving)
Synopsis: You ask Dex to keep the mask on during sex
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The window slammed upward hard enough to rattle the glass.
Cold night air swept into the apartment first.
Dex` landed in a controlled crouch on the hardwood floor, black tactical suit absorbing the impact like it weighed nothing at all.
You looked up from the couch without surprise.
âFront door still broken?â you asked softly.
âI was closer to the fire escape.â
Dex straightened slowly. The mask hid most of his face, but not the intensity behind his eyes. You locked eyes, the intensity of his stare already making you feel warm. You stared right back at him, scanning him from head to tow, searching for injuries, but also admiring how he looks with his suite on. He looked more feral with it. Dangerous. Untouchable. Menacing. But he was yours and he was never any of those things with you.
âYou left the window unlocked,â he said.
âI know it's your favourite entrance to the apartment. I need to remind you though that you do have keys.â
You notice blood on his suite. He tilts his head slightly. âYouâre not asking whose blood that is.â
âI figured if it was yours, youâd already be bleeding on my floor.â
That earned the smallest twitch at the corner of his mouth beneath the mask.
Dangerous thing, making him smile.
He moved toward you carefully, like a predator pretending not to stalk. The suit creaked faintly with every step. Youâd learned there was always restraint in him, not gentleness exactly, but effort. Constant effort.
âYou should keep it onâ you murmured, fingers brushing the armored plating on his chest.
Dexâs hand caught your wrist instantly.
His thumb pressed against your pulse, feeling it jump under his touch.
âThe suit?â he asked quietly.
You shook your head once.
He went completely still.
Through the black fabric, his breathing changed.
âYou want me to keep them on?â
There was something fragile hidden underneath the question. Something wary. Like he was waiting for the joke or disgust or rejection afterward.
Instead, you stepped closer until your bodies nearly touched.
âI like looking at you like this,â you admitted. âMakes you feel dangerous.â
âIt doesn't scare you?â
âMaybe Iâm into scary things.â
A low exhale escaped him - almost a laugh, almost disbelief. He smirks underneath the mask and the smirk reaches his eyes.
Your fingers slid up the side of the mask, tracing the seam near his jaw. Dex leaned into the touch before he could stop himself. That tiny unconscious movement always got to you more than the violence did.
Because no one ever imagined someone like him wanting softness that badly.
âYou had a bad night?â you asked.
His silence answered enough.
âI needed to see you.â
The honesty in it hit harder than anything else.
You kissed him through the mask first.
The material was cool beneath your lips, and Dex made this strangled sound in the back of his throat like the contact short-circuited something in him. His hands settled at your waist carefully at first â too carefully for a man who could kill with a paperclip.
âYouâre sure?â he asked against your mouth.
That finally broke whatever restraint heâd been holding onto.
He lifted the mask enough to kiss you back hard and steal your breath, gloved hand sliding into your hair while the other braced against the wall beside your head.
And underneath all the armor and violence and instability, you could feel the terrifying truth of it:
Dex loved being wanted exactly as he was.
He backs you up againt the wall, never breaking the kiss. He has one hand on you waist and wraps the other one around your neck, cutting your air flow just enough.
"So, I fucking scare you, huh?"
"Yes, and you know what Dex? It turns me on"
He growls, moving his mouth to your neck, kissing and biting at your sweet spot. You moan loudly in his ear instead. When he comes up at your mouth again you push him away. He looks startled, afraid he took things to far, until you take your robe off, completely naked underneath it, drop to your knees and start unbuckling his belt.
The sight of you in your knees with his dick in your mouth, naked while he is fully clothed with his suit on made him feel more in power and turned on beyond belief.
He puts a hand in you head, not pushing you just feeling you move. You are not slow with it. No. You don't have the patience for slow. You are fast and rough, taking him all in, sucking him in like it's giving you oxygen when you can't breath. You moan around him when you hear the sounds he makes, which drives him even more crazy.
He grabs your hair and pulls your head back. You whine at the loss of contact, looking at him with pleading eyes.
"Stand up, sweetheart, it's my turn"
The moment you stand up, he lifts you up and carries you to the bed. He climbs on top of you like a predator, kisses you hard then slowly descents parting your legs forcefully.
His mouth is then on you with deadly precision, taking your breath and mind away.
"Oh fuck, Dex, how are you so good at this?"
The praise making him moan around you, the vibrations adding even more intensity to your pleasure.
He builds your orgasm almost in seconds, lapping at you like a starving man, but you tip over the moment you look down and see him eating you and watching you through the mask. The image was addicting and you looked while the waves of pleasure took over you, and he looked right back at you with a dangerous glint in his eyes.
Before you could calm down from your orgasm, he lowers the mask, climbs back up, pins your wrists next to your head and enters you with one swift motion, cutting the air from you lungs.
"You are always so tight for me, want me to open you up?"
"Yes, please" You wrap your legs around his waist, driving him deeper and you almost wanted to tell him to rip you apart if he had to.
His face, still covered by the mask, hovered just inches from yours, only his eyes visible now, heavy-lidded, dark, and unfocused in a way that betrayed how much control he was losing, the sharp intensity usually there dulled into something warmer, hazier, like he was barely holding onto awareness of anything beyond you.
And the fact that you couldnât fully reach himâcouldnât kiss him properly, couldnât close that final gap because the mask was still thereâonly made the tension tighten further in your chest, the frustration and want twisting together into something almost unbearable as his breath brushed your skin and he stayed just out of reach, like he knew exactly what he was doing without meaning to.
He starts moving, with hard and slow thrusts, each rougher than the previous one, hitting in just the right place like he always does. You feel your mind slipping away, lost in the pleasure the masked man is offering you.
"Are you going to hurt me masked man?"
"Show me why I should be scared of you, Dex" the words driving him even more feral, making his thrusts crueler and faster, making it feel like he wanted to rip you in half. He fucked you right at the line of pain and pleasure, perfectly balanced with neither winning.
"You are fucking perfect"
Perfect wasnât a word he used lightly. It didnât feel like it belonged to people. People were inconsistent, noisy, unpredictable in ways that usually meant control slipping away from him. But you - there was a kind of alignment in the way you responded to him. You didnât try to fix what you saw. You didnât try to pretend he was something gentler than he was. You looked at the danger and stayed anyway, and not just stayed you took pleasure from it. You owned the fear.
It wasn't hard to reach your peak once again, the intensity of the act drove you through the edge, and Dex followed right after you when he felt you clenching around him.
He collapsed on top of you, still holding himself up a little so that he wouldn't crush you, with his head tucked in you nape.
The moment you catch your breath, you gently lift his head up and take his mask of.
"No matter how much I enjoyed this, I missed your pretty face" you said softly.
For a second, he didnât move.
Dex had never really understood words like that - pretty, soft, anything that didnât come with a tactical purpose or a threat attached to it. He didnât think of himself in those terms at all. Never had. It wasnât relevant. It wasnât useful. It wasnât something people like him got to be.
But when you said it, something in him still reacted.
Not logically. Instinctively.
Like the word landed somewhere it wasnât supposed to reach.
His gaze flicked to you sharp at first, almost confused by his own response, before it softened in a way he didnât fully control. He didnât correct you. Didnât dismiss it.
Because with you, it didnât feel like a mistake.
He leaned in, slow and deliberate, and kissed you lightly, just enough to bridge the space heâd been holding between you without fully closing it. No rush. No violence. Just contact, careful and almost testing, like he was checking that the moment was still real.
And when he pulled back slightly, his thumb lingered at your jaw, anchoring you there.
He didnât say anything about the word.
But the way he stayed close, just a fraction longer than necessary, like he didnât want to lose the feeling of it, said enough.
"Shower, round two and sleep?"
"How could I possibly say no to that? Lead the way my beautiful masked man."
PS It's my first time writing smut, Dex just has that effect on me
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