bed chem
summary: Your boyfriend comes to the apartment with Dex in towβexcept Matt says that some test tubes broke during their fight, and now they're infected with a mysterious airborne substance. And now you're starting to feel it too... word count: 19.7k+ (pls don't shoot idk how that happened) pairing: matt murdock x fem!reader x dex poindexter notes: yeah so... this got... out of hand. i spent weeks on this, whenever i had the *horny urge* i wrote a short scene and i kept doing it for weeks. that's what i get for getting my period every 2 weeks, my hormones like to fuck me just like all the fucking in this warnings/tags: no use of y/n, established relationship (matt and you), sex pollen, EVERYONE IS CONSENTING!!!, threesome (mmf), fingering (f!receiving), handjob(s), oral (f&m!receiving), unprotected piv, cum play (idk kinda? there's a lot of orgasms in this lol), creampie(s), headlock by dex yes plsss, one use of the word 'slut', a little bit of biting, i meant it when i said a lot of orgasms there's so many omg, grinding, honestly dex is a third wheel, teasing, dex kinda has a humiliation kink honestly, you and matt use dex as a table (?), choking - as in matt chokes dex bc i said so, fingers in mouth (or rather dex sucks ur fingers), a lot of kissing (sadly no dexmatt kiss i'm so sorry y'all i'll make up for it next time), slight edging, dex has a praise kink (he just wants to fuck you good!), 69ing with some pizzazz, kinda cum eating?, bratty!dex, dom!matt, sub/switch!dex, it's kinda a competition to see who can fuck u better, lightly proofread
The lock clicks, then the door shoves open like somebody hit it with a shoulder instead of a key, and the first thing you hear is a breath that doesnβt belong in your quiet apartment. Itβs too rough, too fast, the kind of breathing that comes after a sprint or a fight, and then thereβs the scrape of boots on the wood floor as someone drags weight over the threshold.
You sit up against your pillows, nightgown twisted around your thighs, skin warm from sleep, and you blink hard at the clock because your brain tries to insist this is a nightmare before it accepts that Matt is actually home, and he didnβt come home alone. βMatt?β Your voice comes out husky, still fogged with sleep, and you swing your legs over the side of the bed as your pulse starts climbing. βWhat the hell is going on?β
βStay in the bedroom,β Matt says immediately, and the way he says it makes your stomach tighten because itβs not a suggestion. Itβs his command-voiceβhis Daredevil-voiceβthe one he uses when something is wrong, and he doesnβt want you anywhere near it.
You ignore him anyway, because you always do when itβs your apartment and your life, and you can hear him struggling to keep somebody upright. You move down the hall barefoot, the hardwood cool under your feet, and you catch the shape of him in the living room by the dim kitchen light. Heβs still in his suit, mask off, shoulders rising and falling too hard. One of his hands is clamped around an arm that doesnβt belong to him, hauling a second man forward like heβs refusing to let him hit the floor.
The second man stumbles, catches himself at the wall with a palm, then tilts his head toward you with a lazy kind of confidence that doesnβt match how unsteady he is. Heβs dressed in blue gear that looks expensive and ruined at the same time, and the second his eyes land on you, his mouth curls like he just found something amusing. βWell,β he says, drawing it out like heβs tasting the word. βHi.β
You stare at him, then back at Matt, and you donβt bother lowering your voice. βWhy is there a stranger in my apartment, and why does he look like he crawled out of a fire?β
Mattβs head turns in your direction with that pinpoint focus he always has when heβs tracking your voice. βHeβs not a stranger to me,β he says, and you can hear how carefully controlled heβs being. βHeβs hurt and I didnβt have another choice.β
Dex laughs under his breath like thatβs the funniest thing heβs heard all week. βYou make it sound like you rescued a kitten. Iβm touched.β
Mattβs grip tightens on Dexβs arm, and Dex hisses like it actually hurts. βWatch your mouth,β Matt snaps, then forces his voice back down when he speaks to you again. βWe ran into each other on a call. There was a lab. Something broke. There wereβ¦ containers.β
βContainers,β you repeat, flat, because itβs absurd and vague and you can see the way Mattβs suit is flecked with something that might be dust or dried chemical residue. βYouβre bleeding?β
βIβm fine,β Matt says too fast, which is how you know he isnβt, and his shoulders hunch like heβs bracing against heat or pain. βItβs not bad.β
Dex slides down the wall like heβs trying to sit without admitting he needs to, then he looks at you again with that same sharp interest that makes your skin crawl. His gaze drags, slow and deliberate, from your face to the thin fabric of your nightgown and back up, and he doesnβt even pretend heβs being subtle.
You fold your arms over your chest and let your expression go cold. βCan I help you?β
His smile widens a fraction. βYouβre prettier than I pictured.β
Mattβs head snaps toward Dex so sharply itβs almost violent, and for a second you see the exact moment his restraint threatens to split. βDonβt,β Matt says, low and dangerous.
Dexβs eyes flick up, mocking. βDonβt what? Look? Talk? Breathe in her general direction?β
You step closer without thinking, because you hate the way Dex is taking up space in your living room like he belongs here, and you hate even more that Matt is shaking with something that looks like exhaustion mixed with anger. Up close you can see the sweat at Mattβs temples, the damp hair stuck to his forehead, and the way his chest rises like heβs struggling to pull air deep enough.
βMatt,β you say, softer now, because whatever this is, itβs making him feel wrong in his own body. βTalk to me. What happened?β
Matt swallows, and his jaw flexes. βWe fought,β he admits, like it costs him to say it with you standing there. βHe showed up where he shouldnβt have been. We went through a glass enclosure, and there were test tubes inside it. They shattered.β
Dex shifts, his voice turning conversational like heβs discussing the weather instead of the aftermath of a fight. βYou shouldβve seen his face when the thing popped. Real dramatic. Whole room went sparkly.β
βYouβre enjoying this,β you say, and you donβt bother hiding how much you dislike him.
Dex tips his head. βI enjoy most things.β
Matt exhales through his nose like heβs trying not to say something that would turn this into an even bigger disaster. βThere was a chemical. I donβt know what it was. I just know the heat hit fast, and then we both went down for a minute.β
He shifts his grip, reaches into his suit with his free hand, and you instinctively lean forward because the motion looks clumsy, like his hands donβt want to cooperate. When he pulls his fist back out, heβs holding a broken length of glass, the snapped end jagged and cloudy like something coated the inside.
βI kept a piece,β Matt says, and his voice is tight with the kind of practicality that always kicks in when heβs scared. βI didnβt want to leave without something. If we can figure out what it wasββ
βMatt,β you cut in, because the glass makes your stomach drop. βWhy are you holding that with your bare hand?β
βIβm not cut,β he says, and you can tell heβs telling the truth, because his voice doesnβt hitch the way it does when he lies to you. βItβs not sharp on this end.β
Dex snorts. βSure. Heβs very careful, your boyfriend. Extremely careful. Thatβs why he dragged his enemy into your apartment at midnight, wearing his murder pajamas.β
Your eyes cut to Dex. βStop talking.β
Dexβs grin turns delighted. βAw. You tell him what to do too? Thatβs cute.β
Mattβs patience finally cracks in a way that has nothing to do with you. He yanks Dexβs arm up, not enough to dislocate anything, but enough to remind Dex whoβs stronger, then he shoves him toward the couch with a controlled kind of force. Dex stumbles, catches himself on the back cushion, and laughs again like itβs foreplay.
βSit,β Matt says, clipped. βAnd if you say one more thing about her, Iβm putting you through the wall.β
Dex settles onto the couch with exaggerated ease, stretching his legs out like heβs in a waiting room. βSure. Whatever you say.β
Matt turns back to you, and the aggression falls away from his face like it was never there, replaced by something strained and urgent. He holds the broken tube out in your direction, and you take it because you donβt want it in his hand anymore, even though you donβt know what youβre supposed to do with it.
The glass is warm, warmer than it should be, and the cloudy residue inside catches the light faintly. You angle it away from your body on instinct, then look up at Matt. βOkay. You brought meβ¦ a dirty shard of a test tube.β
βI know,β Matt says, and he sounds frustrated with himself, like he can hear how ridiculous it is. βI didnβt think. I justβI wanted it here. Safe.β
βYou couldnβt have put it in a bag?β you say, and you canβt help it, because your nerves are trying to get relief through sarcasm. βOr a sock? Or literally anything that isnβt my bare hands?β
Mattβs mouth twitches, but itβs not a smile, not really. βIβll clean up after. I just need you toββ He cuts himself off, breath stuttering like the heat is spiking again. βI need you to help me keep a clear head.β
You donβt say what youβre thinking, which is that he doesnβt look like he has one right now. Instead, you lift your chin toward the bathroom. βBoth of you need to change, shower if you can. At least get those suits off, because whatever this was, itβs on you.β
Dexβs voice floats over, bright with amusement. βOh, yeah. Tell him to take it off.β
Your eyes flick to him again, and you donβt bother masking the disgust. βYou can shut up and do as youβre told too.β
Dex raises an eyebrow. βBossy. I like it.β
Matt takes a step toward him like heβs about to make good on the wall threat, but you touch Mattβs forearm before he can. βMatt,β you say, grounding him, and his head turns back to you immediately. βBathroom. Now.β
His throat works, and he nods once, sharp and obedient, because he trusts you. βDex first. Iβm not letting him wander.β
Dex pushes himself up with a lazy stretch, then pauses just long enough to look you up and down again, slow as he pleases. βYour nightgownβs a nice touch,β he murmurs.
Mattβs hand shoots out and clamps on Dexβs shoulder, and Dex makes a sound thatβs half laugh, half choke. βMove,β Matt growls.
Dex lifts both hands like heβs surrendering, but the grin never leaves. βOkay, okay. Lead the way.β
You step back to give them space, holding the broken glass out away from your body like itβs something that might bite you. Matt herds Dex down the hall, and you watch them disappear into the bathroom, the door shutting with a firm click that sounds like Matt trying to lock his temper away in the same place.
For a second, the apartment is quieter, except for the muffled sound of water turning on and the rough edge of Mattβs breathing bleeding through the door. You look down at the test tube shard in your hand, then at your nightgown, then toward the kitchen where you keep plastic bags and gloves under the sink, and you mutter to yourself because you canβt believe this is your life. βOkay,β you say under your breath, moving toward the kitchen. βCold water. Towels. Gloves. Something to cool them down. Then we figure out what the hell you two brought home.β
From the bathroom, Dexβs voice carries, too clear, too smug. βSo, this is the girlfriend.β
Mattβs reply is low and sharp enough that even through the door you hear the warning. βDonβt.β
Dex laughs again, softer this time, like heβs savoring it. βGod, youβre fun.β
You grab a roll of paper towels with one hand, dig for a plastic bag with the other, and you tell yourself youβre not going to let Dex get under your skin, because youβve dealt with Mattβs stubbornness, his bruises, his secrets, and the way he tries to carry the whole city alone, and you can handle one sarcastic asshole on your couch.
Then the warmth hits you, subtle at first, like your apartment suddenly got too hot even though the thermostat hasnβt changed, and you pause with your fingers still in the cabinet because your skin prickles in a way that makes no sense.
You take a breath, then another, and the air feels thick in your lungs, not choking, justβ¦ heavy, like itβs carrying something you didnβt notice before. βMatt,β you call, raising your voice toward the bathroom. βHow sure are you that stuff wasnβt airborne?β
Thereβs a pause, water still running, and then his voice comes back through the door, tight with a kind of grim certainty. βIβm not sure,β he admits. βBut I think it was.β
Your stomach drops, and you stare down at the glass shard in your hand like it just turned into a live wire. You shove it carefully into the plastic bag, seal it with shaking fingers, and tell yourself youβre being dramatic, because youβre fine, youβre just warm, itβs probably stress, itβs probably adrenalineβ
Except your nightgown suddenly feels too soft and too clingy, and your thighs press together on instinct like youβre trying to get friction from nothing. You swallow hard, forcing your hands to keep moving, forcing your brain to stay on the list of practical tasks you can control.
Cold packs. Water. Clothes. Get them out of the contaminated suits.
You grab two bottles of water from the fridge, then a third, because Dex can suffer but dehydration is still dehydration, and you yank the freezer open for ice packs. The cold air hits your face, and it should feel good, but it only makes the heat under your skin feel sharper by contrast.
You stand there longer than you mean to, letting the freezerβs cold wash over you while your pulse kicks harder for no reason you want to name. Your nipples tighten under the nightgown, your stomach flips, and you force your mouth into a hard line because this cannot be happening, not tonight, not with Dex in your living room and Matt barely holding himself together.
The water shuts off and then there are two sets of footsteps. One steady, one dragging with theatrical exaggeration.
You straighten up, slam the freezer closed, and turn with the water bottles in hand like youβre about to run a triage station, because if you keep moving, you can pretend your body isnβt suddenly acting like youβre the one who came home from a fight covered in whatever the hell was in that lab.
You hand them the water bottles like youβre running a field hospital out of your kitchen, and the second Mattβs fingers brush yours you feel how hot he is, like his skin is holding heat instead of just warming you the way it normally does. Dex takes his bottle without a thank you, of course, twisting the cap with a lazy flick and drinking like heβs trying to look unbothered, even though sweat is still beading at his hairline.
βSit,β you tell them, nodding toward the couch and the armchair like youβre assigning stations. βBoth of you. If either of you falls over, Iβm not catching you.β
βIβm not going to fall,β Matt says, and he sounds like heβs trying to convince himself as much as you. Heβs in a dark t-shirt and sweatpants now, hair damp from the quick rinse, suit shoved somewhere in the bathroom, and heβs still breathing like his lungs are running behind his body. He stands there for a second, head slightly tilted, listening to the room like heβs trying to find the chemical in the air by sound alone.
Dex drops onto the couch and sprawls like he lives there, one arm slung over the back cushion. Matt doesnβt sit, not yet, and you can tell heβs vibrating with it, the need to keep moving, to keep control, to not let his body win.
βYou said you donβt know what it was,β you say, and you keep your voice even because if you let yourself sound scared, youβll make Matt spiral. βDid you see labels? Any markings? Anything at all?β
Dex snorts into his water bottle. βHe didnβt see shit.β
Mattβs jaw tightens hard enough that you can see it. βThere were racks. Glass. It was like a display enclosure more than storage. Maybe a demonstration.β He pauses, then adds like he hates the words, βthere was a sweet smell. Likeβ¦ hot metal and sugar.β
βThatβs helpful,β you say automatically, even though it isnβt, and you can feel your own skin prickling again, that wrong warmth spreading across your chest and down your stomach. You shift your weight, trying to ignore it, trying to treat it like the apartment just got stuffy because two overheated men dragged themselves in and your adrenaline is still high.
Dexβs gaze drifts to you again, and this time it lingers longer, sharper. βYouβre sweating,β he says, like itβs an observation and a victory at the same time.
βIβm fine,β you snap without thinking, and it comes out too fast, too defensive, which is annoying because it makes it sound like you arenβt fine.
Mattβs head turns toward you immediately, and his voice drops into that careful calm he uses when heβs trying not to panic. βYouβre sweating?β
βMatt,β you say, trying to laugh it off, but it sounds thin. βItβs late, my boyfriend came home half-dead with a lunatic, Iβm running on caffeine and anxiety. Iβm allowed to sweat.β
Dexβs mouth curls. βHeβs not your boyfriend right now. Heβs a furnace.β
βOkay,β you say, too bright, already done with him. You point toward the hallway. βNo more commentary from the peanut gallery. Youβre sitting there, youβre drinking water, and youβre shutting up.β
Dex lifts his hands in fake surrender again, then settles back with an obnoxiously pleased look on his face. βYes, maβam.β
Matt finally lowers himself into the armchair, but he doesnβt relax into it. His hands stay on his thighs like heβs bracing, and when he exhales itβs rough, like the air drags. You set the ice packs on the coffee table and slide one toward him, and another toward Dex, trying to keep this practical because practical means youβre not thinking about the heat crawling under your nightgown.
βPut those on your neck,β you tell them. βOr your wrists. Something.β
Dex picks his up, presses it to his throat, and groans like heβs being dramatic on purpose. βOh, thatβs nice.β
Matt takes his, but he doesnβt immediately put it on. He lifts it, then pauses like heβs listening again, and his head tilts toward you in a way that makes your stomach drop because heβs noticed something, and Matt noticing something is never casual. βYouβre breathing differently,β he says.
You stare at him. βWhat?β
βYouβre breathing differently,β he repeats, steady, like heβs trying to keep it neutral. βItβsβ¦ faster.β
Dexβs eyes flick between you and Matt, and his smile turns sharp, like heβs watching a show start. βUh-oh.β
βIβm fine,β you insist again, and you hate how your voice shakes at the end, because it makes Mattβs posture go even tighter.
Mattβs hands curl around the ice pack, and he forces himself to stay seated. βTell me if you feel anything,β he says, and thereβs a hard edge beneath the calm. βIf itβs airborne, youβre exposed too.β
βI know,β you say, and you hate that the admission makes the warmth in your body flare like itβs responding to being acknowledged. You swallow and shift again, rubbing your thighs together without meaning to, then stopping when you realize you did it. βIβm going to look it up. Something has to match those symptoms.β
Dexβs gaze drops to your legs like heβs cataloging the movement, and your cheeks go hot in a way that isnβt just temperature. You pick up your phone before you can think too hard about that, because thinking too hard about Dex watching you is a problem you donβt want tonight.
You walk into the kitchen with your phone in hand, because if you stay in the living room with both of them staring at you in different ways, youβre going to lose your mind. You type fast, thumbs slipping a little because your hands feel clammy.
You stare at the results like theyβre in another language, and you scroll anyway, because youβre stubborn and you need something concrete. Your mind keeps snagging on the words sweet smell, heat, exposure, and every time you try to force it back onto βpoisonβ or βirritantβ your body does something else entirely, like itβs dragging you toward a different conclusion. Your nipples ache against the thin fabric of your nightgown, your stomach tightens low, and the slick heat between your thighs becomes impossible to pretend is stress.
You type again, more frantic.
Your phone gives you a bunch of useless articles, clickbait and vague warnings and the word aphrodisiac showing up in places that make your pulse jump. You read half a sentence, then realize youβre not reading at all because the heat in your body is swallowing your attention. You grip the counter and try to breathe slowly like that will fix it, but the second you inhale, the air feels thick again, and the warmth in your lungs makes your thighs clench.
From the living room, you hear Dexβs voice carrying, casual and taunting. βSo, how long you think before she starts climbing you like a tree?β
Mattβs voice is low, dangerous. βDonβt talk about her.β
Dex laughs, and you hate that the sound makes something flutter in your stomach, like your body is reacting to the idea before your brain can slam the door on it. You squeeze your eyes shut and force yourself to think about anything else. Cold water. Ice packs. Gloves. Cleaning supplies. Bag the glass shard. Call someone. Callβ
You realize youβre holding your breath, and when you exhale it trembles.
Your nightgown clings to your stomach and thighs, damp where youβre sweating, and the sensation is suddenly unbearable, too soft, too much. You tug at the fabric like itβs suffocating you, then stop because your hands shake, and youβre not sure if itβs fear or need. Your phone is still in your hand, screen glowing with the word arousal, and you want to throw it across the room.
Instead, you set it down on the counter, hard, like you can punish it into giving you a better answer. βOkay,β you mutter to yourself, voice tight. βOkay. Iβm not doing this. Iβm notββ
You walk out of the kitchen, meaning to go back to the living room, meaning to keep control of the situation, meaning to tell Matt what you found and keep Dex from running his mouth. Halfway down the hall, the heat spikes again, sharper, and you stop like you ran into a wall.
Your skin feels too sensitive, like every brush of air is a touch. Your panties suddenly feel like a cruel joke, a thin strip of fabric thatβs rubbing exactly where you canβt stand it, and you press your thighs together hard enough that it almost hurts. You try to keep walking, you really do, but your knees go a little weak and your breath catches, and you end up turning into the bedroom without making the decision out loud.
The room is dim and familiar and smells like you and Matt, clean sheets and laundry detergent and something warm underneath, and that makes it worse, because it makes the need feel safe enough to bloom.
You shut the door halfway behind you, not all the way because you donβt want to look suspicious, and you stand against the wall with your back against it like youβre steadying yourself. Your nightgown rides up when you shift, and the cool air hits your thighs, and your body reacts so hard you actually gasp.
βFuck,β you whisper.
You try to be rational again, you try to talk yourself down like youβve never been turned on before in your life, like this is just horny and not chemical and not dangerous. You tell yourself you can take a cold shower, you can drink water, you can breathe it out, and then your fingers slide under the hem of your nightgown anyway, because your body is done waiting for your permission.
Your hand slips into your panties, and the second your fingertips find your slick pussy you go still, eyes squeezed shut, because the relief is immediate and dizzying. You bite your lip hard enough to sting, because the sound that wants to come out of you is not something you can let Dex hear from your bedroom, not when heβs sitting on your couch like a smug parasite.
You circle your clit carefully at first, trying to keep it quiet, trying to keep it controlled, and it doesnβt work. Your hips rock into your hand without you telling them to, and the wet sound of your fingers moving makes your cheeks burn. You press your head against the wall, breathing through your nose, trying to keep your mouth shut, but the heat keeps climbing, building like pressure under your skin.
βCome on,β you whisper to yourself, harsh and frustrated, like you can bully your body into settling down. βJustβjust calm down.β
You donβt calm down. Your fingers slide lower, two of them pushing into your cunt with a slow, shaking thrust, and you have to clamp your other hand over your mouth momentarily because the moan nearly spills out anyway. The stretch makes your stomach flip, makes your thighs tremble, and you canβt decide which is worse: the relief or the fact that itβs making you want more instead of fixing anything.
You pull your fingers out, then push them back in again, deeper this time, and your knees flex like youβre about to sink to the floor. You grip the fabric of your nightgown at your waist with your free hand, bunching it up so you can spread your legs wider, because youβre chasing friction now, chasing anything that makes the burning need feel like it has a direction.
The thought of Matt flashes through your head, automatic, grounding and devastating. Mattβs hands. Mattβs mouth. Mattβs voice telling you what to do when you canβt think straight.
Then Dexβs voice flashes too, the way he looked at you, the way he said youβre sweating, the way he keeps pressing at Matt like he wants a reaction. The idea of Dex hearing you through the wall makes your stomach clench again, and itβs not all disgust, and that realization pisses you off so much that you shove your fingers in deeper like you can punish yourself back into sense.
Youβre panting now, sweat slick on your back, nightgown twisted up around your ribs, and you canβt get enough air. Your clit throbs under your thumb, oversensitive, and you move faster even though youβre trying not to. The sound of your own wetness fills your ears, and you tilt your head back like youβre trying to keep your mouth away from the urge to moan.
From the living room, you hear a muffled sound, probably Dex shifting, maybe Matt saying something sharp, and you freeze for half a second, panic jolting through you. You listen hard, holding your breath, fingers still buried in your cunt.
No footsteps yet.
You swallow, shaky, and start moving again because stopping feels like dying. You bite your lip again, harder, and the sting makes your eyes water, but it keeps you quiet. Your body builds toward the edge anyway, tightening and tightening until it feels like your skin is going to split open with it.
βFuck,β you breathe, almost silent, and you chase the pressure harder because you need it to break. Right as you feel your orgasm start to crest, the sound of footsteps hits the hallway, steady and purposeful, and your whole body jolts like youβve been caught doing something criminal.
Mattβs footsteps.
Theyβre careful, controlled, and they stop outside your bedroom door for half a beat like heβs listening, like he already knows exactly what youβre doing, because he always knows. Mattβs footsteps stay outside the door for a beat too long, and you can feel him there the way you always can when heβs focused, like the air in the room shifts around his attention. You freeze with your hand still in your panties, fingers slick, thighs trembling, breath coming in shallow, broken pulls that youβre trying to force quieter.
The door nudges open, not hard, just enough that it moves on its hinges with a soft click, and Mattβs voice follows immediately, low and careful like heβs holding himself back by the teeth. βSweetheartβ¦ are you okay?β
You swallow, throat tight, and you try to make your face normal even though you canβt stop shaking. Your fingers twitch against your cunt, and the tiny movement shoots a hot jolt straight up your spine. βYeah,β you say too fast, and it comes out wrecked anyway, breathy and cracked like youβre already begging. βIβm fine. I justβIβm hot. Iβm justββ
Matt steps in and closes the door behind him with the gentlest touch, like he doesnβt want the sound to carry, and then he stops again, head tilted, listening to you the way he listens to everything. You know he can hear your pulse slamming in your throat, can hear how wet you are, can hear the way youβre trying to keep your breathing from turning into moans.
βYouβre not fine,β he says, and it isnβt accusing, itβs steady, like heβs naming a fact. βTalk to me.β
You laugh once, short and sharp, because itβs either that or cry. βI tried to look it up. I tried to be normal about it. Iββ You cut yourself off when your hips rock into your own hand again, helpless, and your eyes squeeze shut. βMatt, I canβtβI canβt think.β
He crosses the room fast, but not frantic, and the difference matters because itβs Matt; even when heβs losing control, he tries to make you feel safe first. His hand finds your wrist unerringly, gentle but firm, stopping your movement for a second, not taking it away, just holding you still long enough that you have to breathe.
βHey,β he murmurs, closer now, and his other hand cups your jaw, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth like heβs checking if youβre real. βLook at me.β
You do, because you always do, and the sight of him in the dim light makes something inside you twist. He looks wrecked too, sweat still at his temples, hair damp, t-shirt clinging to his chest, and his mouth is set in this tight line like heβs trying to be your anchor while his own body is on fire.
βYou donβt have to lie,β he says softly, and his thumb drags across your lower lip, slow and grounding. βDo you want help?β
Your throat bobs, and you try to answer like a normal person instead of somebody with their panties soaked through, but it comes out raw. βYes.β
Matt doesnβt move right away. He holds your face, keeps his thumb at your lip like heβs keeping you from spinning out, and his voice drops even lower. βSay it again.β
Your breath shudders, and you nod even though you know he doesnβt need the nod, he needs the words. βYes, Matt. I want help.β
His jaw flexes. His shoulders rise and fall once like heβs pulling himself together on purpose, and then he asks you the question that always matters more than anything else, even now, even like this. βTell me what you want,β he says, and his voice is steady enough that it makes your eyes sting. βUse words.β
You wet your lips, and your cheeks burn because it feels too explicit to say out loud when he can already hear it, when he already knows, but he makes you do it anyway because thatβs how he keeps you safe in the middle of chaos. βI want your fingers,β you manage, breath shaking. βI want you to make it stopβor make it better, I donβt know, justβ¦ please.β
Matt makes a sound in the back of his throat like the words hit him in the gut, and then his grip on your wrist loosens. He slides your hand out of your panties and brings it up, pressing your slick fingers to his mouth in a way that makes your stomach flip so hard you almost lose your balance.
He kisses your fingertips, slow and wet, and then he licks them, once, deliberate, like heβs tasting exactly what you need. His breath is hot against your skin, and he exhales through his nose like it hurts. βOkay,β he says against your fingers, voice rougher now. βIβve got you.β
You barely have time to nod before his hand replaces yours, sliding down into your panties like he belongs there, like he owns the space because you gave it to him. He moves slow at first, two fingers brushing through your wetness, spreading it, teasing your entrance like heβs forcing himself to be careful even though your hips buck toward him immediately.
βFuck,β you whisper, and itβs tiny, but Matt hears it anyway. His mouth finds yours, messy and hungry, like heβs starving and trying not to scare you with it. The kiss turns into something hot and open-mouthed almost instantly, your lips parting because you canβt do anything else, your hands grabbing at his shoulders to keep yourself upright.
Mattβs fingers sink into you, steady and deep, curling just right, and you make a strangled sound into his mouth because itβs too much relief and not enough at the same time. He keeps kissing you like heβs trying to swallow your noises, and the way he breathes tells you his control is fraying too, his exhale stuttering against your cheek.
βGood,β he murmurs, pulling back just enough to speak, then kissing you again before you can answer. βThatβs it. Let me.β
You whine, hips chasing his hand, and your back hits the wall harder as you try to grind into him. Matt adjusts instantly, stepping closer, pinning you with his body without crushing you, and itβs the best kind of pressure because it keeps you from sliding apart.
Your hands are everywhere, grabbing at him like you need proof heβs here, and then your palms find the front of his sweatpants and you can feel him through them, hard and thick, and it makes you gasp into his mouth.
βMatt,β you breathe, half warning, half plea, and you rub him without thinking, dragging your hand over his cock through the fabric because the friction makes your whole body light up. He shudders, and his fingers thrust deeper like his restraint slipped a notch.
He breaks the kiss just long enough to press his forehead to yours, breathing hard enough that you feel it. βJesus,β he mutters, and itβs the closest youβve ever heard him come to sounding undone. βYouβre soaked.β
βI canβtββ you start, and your voice breaks when his thumb finds your clit and presses in firm, circling just right. βI canβt, Iβm gonnaββ
βGo on,β Matt says, and his tone turns quietly possessive, not harsh, just certain. βCome for me.β
Your body snaps tight, knees shaking, and you clamp a hand over your mouth too late because the sound still leaks, broken and desperate. You grind into his hand, rubbing his cock harder because you canβt help it, and Mattβs breath turns ragged as he holds you steady and keeps working you through it.
You come fast, like your body was right at the edge already and he just pushed you over, shaking so hard your shoulders hit the wall again. Your cunt pulses around his fingers, wet and tight, and you moan his name into your palm like itβs a prayer and a plea all at once.
Matt doesnβt stop when you finish. He slows down, but he keeps moving, stroking you through the aftershocks with a tenderness thatβs almost cruel because it drags the sensation out until youβre trembling and oversensitive, hips twitching away and then back again because you donβt want it to end.
βThatβs it,β he murmurs, mouth at your cheek, kissing the corner of your jaw, then the side of your throat. βThatβs my girl. Breathe.β
You try to, but every breath comes out shaky, and you can feel him shaking too. His chest rises hard against yours, his heart hammering so loud you can feel it through the thin fabric of his shirt, and his hand at your clit presses a little firmer like heβs fighting his own need by pouring it into you instead.
βMatt,β you whisper, voice ruined, and you tug him closer by the shirt like you need him to anchor you. βYouβreβ¦ youβre not okay either.β
βIβm fine,β he lies automatically, and then exhales like he hates himself for it. His thumb keeps circling your clit, his fingers still inside you, and his hips jerk once when you brush his cock again through his sweats. βIβm managing.β
βYouβre breathing like you ran a marathon,β you say, a shaky attempt at normal that falls apart when his hand hits a spot inside you that makes your eyes roll back. βAnd youβre hard.β
Matt lets out a rough laugh that doesnβt sound amused. βYeah,β he admits, and his voice goes lower, tighter. βI noticed.β
You slide your hand over him again, slower this time, feeling the heat of him through the fabric, and Mattβs fingers stutter inside you like he lost the rhythm for a second. He pulls his mouth away from yours just enough to speak, and the words come out controlled only by force.
βTell me you want me to keep going,β he says, because even now he needs it said. βTell me.β
Your stomach flips, your cunt clenches around his fingers, and you nod too hard before you remember he wants words.
βI want you to keep going,β you say, breathless and shameless. βDonβt stop. Please, Matt, donβt stop.β
His hand flexes inside you again, and you feel him shudder against you like the fever is chewing through his restraint. He kisses you hard, messy, and keeps fingering you like heβs trying to chase the chemical out of both your bodies one orgasm at a time, even though you can hear it in his breath that heβs right on the edge of losing control too.
βYou guys gonna do that all night, or are we sharing?β
Dexβs voice carries through the door like heβs leaning right up against it, like he wants you to know heβs listening on purpose, and it makes your whole body clench around Mattβs fingers.
Matt doesnβt flinch the way a normal person would. He goes still in that specific way he does when heβs deciding whether to be a man or a weapon, and his hand doesnβt stop moving even while his head turns toward the sound like he can see Dex perfectly through the wood. βGet out,β Matt says, and his voice is calm enough to be terrifying.
The doorknob turns anyway, and then the door opens just enough for light from the hallway to cut across the room, and Dex fills the gap with a grin and a body language that screams entitlement. Heβs in Mattβs clothes like itβs a joke heβs telling with his whole presence, sweat darkening the collar of the t-shirt, hair damp, cheeks flushed. His eyes flick right to Mattβs hand between your thighs, then slide up your body, lingering on your bunched nightgown and your bare legs like heβs taking inventory.
βWow,β Dex drawls. βAnd here I was thinking we were gonna be civilized about it.β
Mattβs hand tightens at your jaw, thumb still at your lip like heβs anchoring you there, and his other hand stays inside your panties like it belongs. βI said get out,β he repeats, and itβs not louder, itβs just sharper.
Dex leans on the doorframe like he lives there, like this is his apartment too and heβs just wandered into the room for a snack. βWhat, you gonna hit me? You gonna throw me out with your big righteousness routine?β
βDex,β Matt says, and the warning in his tone is the same one youβve heard on rooftops when heβs cornered someone and hasnβt decided yet how merciful heβs feeling. βLeave.β
You should say itβyou should tell Dex to fuck off. You should tell Matt to shut the door, lock it, and keep taking care of you like he was. You can feel your body screaming for that simple outcome, begging for just Mattβs hand and his mouth and no complications.
Instead you hear yourself say, breathless and wrecked, βdonβt leave.β
The words hang in the air for a beat, and itβs so quiet you can hear your own pulse thundering. Matt freezes like somebody stabbed him with the sentence, and Dexβs expression changes instantly, the grin turning sharp and delighted like you just handed him a key.
Mattβs head turns back to you, and his thumb presses at your lower lip, a soft demand. βSweetheart,β he says carefully, βtell me what you mean.β
Your throat works, and your cheeks burn because you know how it sounds, you know how this looks, you know youβre standing here with Mattβs fingers inside you and your panties soaked and your nightgown twisted up like you got caught doing something you shouldnβt. You still say it anyway because the heat in your body doesnβt care about dignity, and because Matt asked you for words.
βI mean,β you manage, voice shaking, βI donβt want you to go. I donβt want you to stop. I donβt want himββ You swallow hard, and your hips twitch against Mattβs hand like your body is trying to talk for you. βI donβt want him to leave either.β
Mattβs jaw flexes, and his fingers donβt move for a second, like heβs forcing himself to prioritize the conversation over the way youβre clenching around him, and then he speaks like heβs laying down law in his own bedroom.
βYou donβt touch her,β Matt says to Dex, voice flat. βYou donβt come near her unless she says so again while youβre standing right here and I can hear her say it. You understand me?β
Dexβs smile turns almost polite, which is somehow worse. βYeah, yeah, I get it. Consent. Boundaries. Gold star, counselor.β
Matt doesnβt look at him, but his hand at your jaw tightens a fraction. βTell me,β Matt says to you, slow and steady, βif you want him involved right now. Say it clearly.β
Your lungs pull in a shaky breath. You can feel Dexβs eyes on you like a physical pressure, and you can feel Mattβs body heat pressed close, the steady weight of him holding you upright. You donβt want Dex to have power over this, you want it to be yours. You nod, then force the words out because Matt needs the words. βI want him,β you say, and it comes out filthy in a way that makes you shiver. βI wantβ¦ both of you. I want it to feel good. I want it to stop feeling like Iβm gonna crawl out of my skin.β
Matt inhales through his nose, the sound tight. βOkay,β he says, like heβs agreeing to something dangerous because you asked. βThen it happens my way.β
Dex pushes off the doorframe and steps into the room like heβs been invited to a party he already planned to crash. βYour way,β Dex repeats, amused, and his gaze drops again to your thighs, to the wet line at the edge of your panties. βSure. Iβm flexible.β
Mattβs hand slips out of your panties, and you make a small, involuntary sound because the sudden emptiness is almost painful. He immediately replaces it with his palm over your cunt through the fabric, pressing firm enough to keep you from chasing him, and he leans in close to your ear. βWeβre moving,β he murmurs. βBed. Hold onto me.β
You wrap your arms around his shoulders, and Matt lifts you like itβs nothing, like your body is just another thing he knows by weight and balance and memory. He carries you the few steps to the bed, guiding you down onto the mattress with a gentleness that doesnβt match the heat burning through the room. The sheets are cool for half a second before your skin turns them warm.
Dex circles closer, eyes bright. βThis is adorable,β he says, and the sarcasm doesnβt hide the hunger in his voice.
βShut up,β you tell him, and it comes out breathless, half a laugh and half a warning, because your body is already arching for touch again.
Dexβs grin widens. βYes, maβam.β
Matt kneels on the bed beside you, then over you, and the way he positions himself is so Matt it almost makes you dizzy. His palm slides up your thigh, fingers splaying like heβs mapping you, grounding you. He hooks a finger under the strap of your nightgown and drags it down your shoulder just to kiss the skin there, slow and possessive, like heβs reminding you whose mouth youβre about to be moaning into.
Dex reaches for you, and Matt catches his wrist without even looking, grip iron. βAsk,β Matt says.
Dex holds your gaze, and his voice drops just enough to feel more real. βCan I?β
You swallow. Youβre still trembling, still slick, still aching in a way that feels endless, and you nod once before forcing it into words, because Matt made you do that, and it matters. βYes,β you say.
Dex exhales like that was the only permission he needed, and then heβs climbing onto the mattress like he belongs there, pushing your knees apart with hands that are firm and unashamed. His grip isnβt rough enough to hurt, but itβs controlling, pinning you open like youβre something heβs been hungry for since the moment he saw you.
βYouβre gonna hate how much you like this,β Dex murmurs, and then he tugs once, hard, and your panties tear with a quick rip that makes you gasp.
βDex!β you start, half shocked, half turned on by the audacity, and Mattβs hand slides up your throat at the same time, not choking, just holding you steady, thumb under your jaw like heβs keeping you anchored in your own body.
βBreathe,β Matt says against your mouth, then kisses you before you can say anything else.
Dex doesnβt waste a second, he grabs your thighs and drags you closer, burying his face between your legs like heβs trying to inhale you. His mouth is hot and wet and mean about it, tongue flattening and pressing hard against your clit like he wants you to break fast. The sound is obscene immediately, loud enough that you jerk and try to clamp your legs shut on instinct.
Dexβs hands tighten on your thighs and hold you open. βNah,β he mutters into you, voice vibrating against your pussy. βNot running.β
Your back arches off the bed with a strangled noise, and Matt is there instantly, crowding your space above, one hand still at your throat and the other sliding up under your nightgown to cup your breast. His thumb circles your nipple slow at first, then harder when you whimper, and he kisses you like heβs stealing your breath on purpose.
βPut your hand on me,β Matt says, guiding your wrist down to the front of his sweatpants. His cock is hard and heavy under the fabric, and the second your fingers curl around him you moan into Mattβs mouth like you canβt help it. βSlow,β Matt warns, voice rough. βTouch me slow. Keep breathing.β
Dex hears Matt directing you, and he gets worse on purpose. His tongue pushes deeper, his mouth noisier, suction turning brutal on your clit until your hips buck hard enough you nearly slide up the bed. Dex holds you in place like heβs built for restraint, palms on your hips now, fingers digging in just enough to make you feel it.
Matt makes a sound in his throat that you feel against your lips more than you hear, and his hand at your breast squeezes like heβs fighting the urge to grab Dex by the hair and drag him off you. Instead he uses it, and the fact that he uses it makes your stomach flip.
βWhat do you think it is?β Matt asks, voice low against your mouth.
You try to answer, you really do, but Dex sucks harder on your clit like heβs punishing you for even attempting to talk, and Matt kisses you again like he doesnβt want the words out of you either. You break the kiss with a gasp, trying to speak, and Dex shifts his mouth just enough to drag his tongue along you in a slow, vicious stroke that makes your eyes roll back.
βMatt,β you choke out, voice fractured, βIβI donβtββ
Mattβs thumb presses under your jaw, steadying your head. βUse your words,β he says, and his tone turns gentle in the middle of all this like heβs still your anchor. βTell me.β
Dexβs mouth goes back to your clit, relentless, and you clutch at Mattβs shoulder and stroke his cock through his sweats harder just to keep yourself from losing it. Mattβs hips jerk once into your hand, and his breath turns ragged, but he doesnβt stop you. He wants you to feel how much youβre getting to him.
You force your eyes open, force your brain to drag itself back from the edge. βItβsβitβs gotta be an aphrodisiac,β you gasp, and Dex growls into your thigh like he approves. βAirborne. Itβsβitβs making usβ¦ like this.β
Matt hums like he already knew, mouth brushing your cheek. βAnd?β
You swallow, shaking, because your orgasm is building again, fast and merciless, and Dex is not giving you a single second to calm down. βAnd I thinkββ you try, then choke when Dexβs tongue hits exactly right and your whole body jolts. βI think it needsβ¦ multipleβ¦ releases. To burn off. Toβ¦ feel normal.β
Dex mutters something into your thigh, words you feel more than hear, and his grip tightens like heβs proud and furious at the same time. Mattβs hand slides from your breast down your stomach, then between your legs, and for a second you think heβs going to push Dex away.
He doesnβtβMattβs fingers slide into you from above while Dex keeps working your clit, and the double sensation is so sharp you make a broken sound that you canβt hide. Mattβs palm presses to your lower belly like heβs holding you in place, and his other hand returns to your throat, steady, not choking, just making you feel owned and safe in the same breath.
βThatβs it,β Matt says, mouth at your ear now, voice so low it feels like a secret. βLet it happen. Iβve got you.β
Dexβs mouth doesnβt let up, and you canβt stop your hips from bucking against him. Your hand clenches around Matt through his sweats, stroking him in short, desperate movements, and Mattβs breath stutters like heβs right there with you, trying to hold control and failing.
You come hard, the orgasm ripping through you so fast your vision goes white at the edges. Your cunt tightens around Mattβs fingers, your thighs shake against Dexβs hands, and the sound that finally comes out of you is loud and wrecked and absolutely not quiet enough for anyone to pretend this isnβt happening.
Matt keeps you steady through it, hand firm at your throat, mouth on yours, kissing you messy while you shake. Dex stays between your legs like heβs starving, licking you through the aftershocks with a stubborn, hungry intensity that makes you twitch and try to squirm away.
βDonβt,β Matt warns softly, and the word isnβt a reprimand, itβs an instruction. βBreathe. Stay with me.β
Dex lifts his head just enough to look up at you, lips wet, chin shining, eyes bright with something sharp and satisfied. He smirks like heβs won a round, then glances toward Matt like he wants a fight. βSee?β Dex says, voice rough. βSharing. We can all be adults about it.β
Mattβs hand tightens on your throat just a fraction, enough that you feel the threat and the control. βDonβt push it,β he says, and the calm in his voice is the kind that makes people smarter.
Dexβs smirk only widens, because of course it does, but Matt doesnβt let Dexβs little victory sit in the air for long. His hand stays firm at your throat as you ride out the aftershocks, thumb resting under your jaw like a reminder that youβre still right here with him, still safe, still his responsibility even when youβre begging for things that make him grit his teeth. βUp,β Matt says, voice low, and his palm slides over your hip, guiding you before your legs can decide to give out. βCome here.β
Dex makes a sound like he wants to argue, like he wants to make a joke about being ordered around in another manβs bedroom, but Matt doesnβt give him the space. Matt doesnβt look at him, he doesnβt have to, and the stillness in his posture makes Dex go quieter in the way predators do when they realize theyβre not the only one in the room.
Matt shifts back against the pillows, bracing himself with one hand behind him while the other finds your waist again. He pulls you up by feel, thumbs digging in just enough that it grounds you, and you end up straddling him before you can overthink it. Your nightgown is still bunched up around your hips, your thighs are slick from Dex, your pussy is swollen and oversensitive, and Mattβs sweatpants are a problem you canβt ignore.
Dex stays close, kneeling behind you on the mattress, crowding your back without touching yet, like heβs waiting to see what Matt allows. Heβs breathing hard too, the heat in the room making everything feel too close, too intimate, too dangerous.
Mattβs hands map you like heβs memorizing all over again. He starts at your hips, then your waist, then slides up your spine with a slow drag of his fingertips that makes you shiver. He cups the back of your head, and he angles your face down so he can take your mouth the way he wants, slow at first, then deeper when you whimper into him. βTell me youβre with me,β he murmurs against your lips, and it isnβt poetic, itβs practical. Itβs Matt making sure youβre still choosing.
βIβm with you,β you breathe, and your voice shakes because the need keeps pulsing through you like a fever.
βGood,β Matt says, and his thumbs press into your hips, guiding you forward. βNow take it.β
He tugs his sweatpants down just enough, and you do the same motion with clumsy fingers, because your hands donβt feel coordinated anymore. His cock is hot in your palm, heavy and hard, and the second you brush the head you feel him flinch under you like heβs been holding back since the moment he walked into the apartment.
You line yourself up and sink down, slow because your body is already wrecked, but you still gasp when he fills you. Mattβs hands lock in on your hips, steadying you, and he exhales like it hurts and feels good at the same time.
βFuck,β you whisper, and your forehead drops to his shoulder, because the stretch is perfect and too much, your cunt fluttering around him like itβs trying to pull him deeper.
Matt kisses the side of your head, mouth rough and greedy now that heβs inside you. βThatβs it. Slow. Let me feel you.β
You rock your hips on instinct, searching for the angle that makes your nerves light up, and Matt gives it to you without you even having to ask. He shifts his grip, thumbs digging in, guiding you into a steady rhythm, easing you up and down on him like heβs taking control so you donβt have to.
Dex leans closer behind you, breath hot at your ear. βJesus,β he mutters, voice thick, and you can hear the way heβs trying not to sound needy. βHe gets to sit there and you justβ¦ slide right onto him.β
Mattβs head turns slightly, attention flicking toward Dex without his face changing. βKeep your mouth under control,β Matt says, quiet and deadly. βOr Iβll remind you whose bed youβre kneeling on.β
Dex lets out a low laugh, but it comes out strained, like the chemical has him by the throat too. βYeah, yeah. Big scaryββ
You gasp because Mattβs hips buck up, suddenly deeper, catching a spot inside you that makes your thighs tremble and your pussy clamp around him. Mattβs hand slides to the back of your neck, guiding you down so he can kiss you again, messy and hungry, like heβs using your mouth to keep himself from snapping at Dex with his fists.
Dexβs fingers sneak around your front like he canβt help himself. His hand slides between your thighs, finding your clit with a practiced ease that makes you jerk. His touch is rougher than Mattβs, more impatient, rubbing hard enough that it makes your nerves spark and your stomach tighten.
βDexββ you start, voice breaking, and your hips stutter.
Mattβs grip tightens on your hips, keeping you steady on his cock. βBreathe,β he tells you, and he says it like an order because your body needs one. βStay on me.β
Dexβs fingers keep going, rubbing your clit faster, and he presses his mouth to your shoulder like he wants to bite but settles for breathing you in. βYouβre gonna come again,β Dex whispers, too pleased with himself. βYouβre gonna come on his cock and heβs gonna feel it, and Iβm gonnaββ
βDex,β Matt says, and the warning in his voice makes the air feel sharper.
Dex doesnβt stop, he canβt. Heβs too much of a problem, too much of a little shit, and the heat is making him reckless. βWhat?β he taunts, rubbing your clit harder like heβs trying to make you cry. βYou want her to beg? Sheβs alreadyββ
Mattβs hand slides up from your hip to your jaw, and he tilts your face toward his, kissing you hard enough that it steals your breath. When he pulls back, his voice is low, controlled, and it lands like a line drawn in ink. βShut him up.β
You blink, dazed, and your lips part on a shaky inhale. βMattβ¦β
Mattβs thumb presses at your chin, guiding, not forcing, and the look on his faceβtight, heated, possessiveβmakes your whole body clench around him. βIf you want him here,β Matt says, βthen you listen. Shut him up.β
Dex makes a pleased, ugly sound behind you, like heβs thrilled to be included and furious that itβs on Mattβs terms. βGo on,β Dex murmurs, leaning in closer. βDo what he says.β
You reach back with shaking hands and grab Dex by the collar, yanking him forward. His breath hits your mouth, and then you kiss him, rough and immediate, because youβre too hot for hesitation and because Matt told you to.
Dex melts into it in a way thatβs almost shocking, mouth opening for you like heβs starving, kissing you like he wants to prove something with his tongue. Thereβs anger in it, too, a bitter edge that feels like heβs biting down on his own resentment just to keep kissing you anyway.
Matt fucks up into you while youβre kissing Dex, slow at first, then harder when you whimper into Dexβs mouth. The movement jolts your whole body, makes you cling to Dexβs collar tighter to keep from falling forward, and Mattβs hands keep you anchored on his cock like he refuses to let you slip away into the haze.
Dexβs fingers never stop rubbing your clit. Heβs using you and being used at the same time, and you can feel him shaking behind you like he hates how much he wants it.
Mattβs mouth finds your throat, kissing the skin there, and his voice drops against you. βSay it,β he murmurs. βWho do you belong to?β
Dex goes still for half a second behind you, like the words hit him in a place he didnβt want exposed. His kiss turns sharper, almost punishing, like he wants to keep you from answering.
Mattβs hand cups your skull, steady, guiding you through it. βSay it,β he repeats, and itβs quiet, certain.
You pull back just enough to breathe, lips swollen, eyes unfocused. Dexβs hand keeps rubbing your clit like heβs trying to make you forget language entirely, but you force it out anyway because the control in Mattβs voice is grounding in the middle of all this.
βI belong to you,β you gasp, voice wrecked. βMatt. I belong to you.β
Dex shudders behind you like it physically hurts, and the sound he makes is torn between a growl and a laugh. He kisses you again anyway, swallowing the words like heβs furious you said them and even more furious he liked hearing you say them.
Mattβs hips snap up, deeper, harder, and you cry out into Dexβs mouth because the pressure hits perfectly. Your cunt clenches around Matt, slick and tight, and Dexβs fingers press your clit in relentless circles until your nerves feel like theyβre sparking.
You break the kiss with a gasp, head falling back onto Dexβs shoulder, and Dex grabs your jaw, possessive and mean, forcing you to look at him while Matt keeps thrusting up into you.
βYou hear her?β Dex mutters, voice low and rough. βShe said it. Sheβs yours. Doesnβt mean I canβt make her come, though.β
Mattβs hands clamp on your hips, and he takes control of the pace fully now, rocking up into you in a steady, relentless rhythm that makes your breath stutter. His mouth is at your ear, and you can hear the strain in his control finally cracking.
βThatβs it,β Matt murmurs. βHold on. Donβt you dare stop.β
Dexβs fingers go faster, brutal on your clit, and your body tightens like itβs being drawn into a knot. You grab at Mattβs shoulders, nails digging through his t-shirt, and you feel your orgasm build fast, almost too fast, the chemical making it sharp and unavoidable.
βIβm gonnaββ you gasp, and you donβt even finish the sentence because your body does it for you.
You come hard on Mattβs cock, shaking, pussy clenching tight around him, and the way Matt groans is low and wrecked, like your orgasm pulled him right to the edge. Dexβs hand stays on your clit through it, not letting you escape the sensation, and you cry out again, broken and breathy, head tipped back against Dexβs shoulder.
Matt keeps thrusting through your orgasm, chasing his own, breath turning ragged. His hands hold you in place like he refuses to let you slide off him, and his mouth finds your throat, biting lightly, then kissing the spot like an apology he doesnβt have time for.
βFuck,β Matt groans, and then his whole body tenses under you. His hips snap up once more, deep, and he comes hard, spilling inside you with a rough sound that turns into your name against your skin.
He doesnβt collapse afterward. He stays braced, arms around you, holding you chest-to-chest like he needs to keep you there, keep you claimed, keep you safe while the heat still burns. His breathing is too fast, his hands still tight on you, and you can feel the way his body is already refusing to settle, like one release didnβt fix anything.
Dexβs fingers finally slow on your clit, but he doesnβt pull away. He stays behind you, crowding your back, mouth at your shoulder, and when he speaks his voice is low with something sharp and pleased. βDamn,β Dex murmurs. βHe came in you. Thatβsβ¦ cute.β
Mattβs head turns toward him, and the calm in his expression is the kind that makes your skin prickle for a different reason. βDonβt,β Matt says, voice even. βNot right now.β
Dex smiles against your shoulder like he canβt help himself, like heβs already planning the next push, and your body is still too hot, still too needy, still trembling on the edge of another want you havenβt even named yet. Dexβs fingers hook under the hem of your nightgown, and he doesnβt ask permission with words this time because he already did, because you already told him yes, but he still looks at you first anyway, eyes bright and sharp. βStill want it?β he murmurs, voice rough. βTell me.β
βYes,β you manage, and it comes out small and wrecked, because youβre still trembling on Mattβs cock and everything feels too sensitive. βI want it.β
Dex yanks the nightgown up and off in one impatient motion, tugging it over your head like itβs in his way, then tosses it somewhere behind him. The air hits your bare skin and you shiver hard, goosebumps rising and then flattening instantly under the heat. Mattβs hands spread over your ribs and stomach like heβs making sure youβre steady, like heβs keeping track of you the way he always does, and then he shifts you carefully off his lap because he isnβt going to let you fall in the middle of this.
βEasy,β Matt murmurs against your jaw, kissing you once, slow and grounding. βIβve got you.β
Dex doesnβt wait for you to fully settle before heβs pulling you back into him, knees on the mattress behind yours, his chest pressed to your back. He loops an arm around your neck in a headlock hold thatβs controlled, not crushing, forearm across your collarbone, hand braced at your shoulder so he can keep you upright and close. The position is meant to make you feel pinned, meant to make you feel owned, and your body answers with a violent clench that makes you gasp.
Mattβs head turns toward the sound immediately, like the gasp is a flare he canβt ignore. His hand slides to your hip and stays there, thumb rubbing slow circles into the skin like a quiet claim. βBreathe,β he says, calm and firm. βTell me if itβs too much.β
βItβs not,β you breathe, and your voice shakes anyway. βItβs not too much.β
Dex laughs softly against your ear, the sound more bite than humor. βOf course it isnβt,β he murmurs. βYouβre fucking soaked.β
He frees himself from his sweatpants with a quick, impatient shove, and you feel the blunt heat of him press against your ass, then slide down between your thighs. The second his cock drags through your slickness, you whimper and your knees flex like youβre going to collapse forward, but Dex tightens his arm and holds you in place. He doesnβt thrust in right away; he grinds against you first, spreading you open, pushing the mess around, making it obscene on purpose, like he needs you to feel exactly whatβs still inside you.
βYou feel that?β Dex whispers, mouth brushing your ear, and his tone turns mean in a way that makes your stomach flip. βThatβs him. Still in you. Still there, even when itβs me.β
Mattβs thumb stops for a second against your hip, then starts again, slow and steady like he refuses to react the way Dex wants. βDex,β Matt says quietly, warning without raising his voice. βDonβt.β
Dex ignores him, because of course he does, because he canβt help digging for the bruise. He lines himself up and pushes in with one hard, deliberate thrust that knocks the breath out of you. You cry out, sharp and broken, and Dexβs arm around your neck keeps you upright while his hips press tight to your ass, burying himself deep like heβs trying to overwrite what Matt just did.
βOh, fuck,β you gasp, hands scrabbling for something to hold, and Mattβs hand catches yours immediately, fingers lacing with yours so you donβt have to search. The touch is steady and warm, anchoring you even while your body is being pulled in two directions.
βThatβs it,β Matt murmurs, lips near your cheek, voice close enough that you feel the air of it. βTake what you need. Keep breathing.β
Dex starts to move, slow at first, grinding deeper on every thrust, making sure you feel the drag of him against your swollen cunt. The mess inside you turns it slicker, filthier, and you can feel it in the obscene sound of it, the wet slap of his hips against your ass, the way your body takes him like itβs desperate for anything that pushes back against the heat.
Dexβs mouth finds your shoulder and he bites down, not hard enough to break skin, just enough to make you gasp again. βListen to you,β he mutters, voice low and sharp. βYou sound like a fucking slut when youβre full.β
Mattβs hand tightens around yours, and his other hand slides up your side to your jaw, tilting your chin slightly like heβs guiding you back from the edge. βHey,β Matt says, calm and deadly at the same time. βWatch your mouth.β
Dexβs thrusts get harder, like the warning turned him on or pissed him off or both. He keeps talking anyway, because he wants Matt to hear it, wants Matt to hate it, wants to provoke something ugly. βSheβs taking me so fucking easy,β Dex whispers, breath ragged at your ear. βLike sheβs made for it. Like she wants it dirty.β
You try to pull air in through your nose, but every time Dex drives into you your breath breaks, the sound spilling out of you in helpless little moans. Your cunt clamps around him, slick and tight, and Dex makes a rough noise like heβs losing control faster than he wants to admit.
Matt doesnβt insult him, he doesnβt even rise to it with words. He corrects Dex with touch, the way he always does when heβs angry and refusing to show it. His fingers slide to your chin and guide your face toward him, and his mouth finds yours in a kiss thatβs slow and possessive, claiming without needing to look at Dex at all. His lips are warm, firm, steady, and it makes you melt even while Dex is fucking you hard from behind. βSay my name,β Matt murmurs into your mouth, barely audible. βLet me hear you.β
Dexβs arm around your neck tightens just enough to remind you heβs there, and he thrusts harder like heβs punishing you for obeying. The sensation spikes sharp, makes your eyes flutter shut, makes your pussy clench around him so hard he stutters.
βMatt,β you moan, the name spilling out as a broken sound against Mattβs lips.
Matt kisses you deeper, like heβs swallowing it, like heβs keeping it. βGood,β he murmurs, and his thumb strokes your jawline, calming and possessive all at once. βThatβs it.β
Dex makes a furious, ragged sound behind you and snaps his hips faster, chasing his own relief in hard, brutal thrusts. βSay it again,β Dex growls into your shoulder, and you can hear the ugly need in it, like he wants you to say his name and hates that Mattβs making you say something else.
Matt doesnβt change his tone. He doesnβt have to. βBreathe,β he tells you, then kisses your mouth again, slower, and it makes your whole body soften into him even while Dex is trying to wreck you from behind. βStay with me.β
Dexβs thrusts turn frantic, the heat and the jealousy and the chemical all smashing together into something that makes him reckless. His arm holds you pinned upright, cock driving deep, and the mess inside you makes every shove obscene, slick and loud. Your legs start to tremble, not from fear, but from overload, your cunt tightening and fluttering like itβs trying to drag both men into the same spiral.
Dex bites your shoulder again, harder this time, and you hiss at the sting. βFuck,β Dex mutters, voice shaking. βYou feel so good it makes me fucking mad.β
Mattβs hand slides down to your hip again, thumb rubbing slow circles, calm and steady, and you hate how much you love the contrast. Dex is all sharp edges and spite, Matt is quiet control, and your body is greedy enough to want both.
Dexβs breathing goes ragged, and his thrusts turn brutal for a few seconds like heβs trying to force his orgasm out of himself. He jerks once, then again, hips stuttering, and you feel him go rigid behind you. He clamps his teeth into your shoulder, not as a threat this time but as a way to stop himself from making a sound heβd hate, and his whole body shakes as he comes hard inside you, hot and thick, filling you in messy pulses that make you gasp.
He stays buried for a second, trembling, arm still around your neck, forehead pressed to the side of your head like he canβt pull away yet. Mattβs hand remains on your hip, thumb still moving, and his lips brush your cheek in a kiss that feels like reassurance and possession at the same time.
βThatβs it,β Matt murmurs in your ear, steady. βGood. Breathe.β
Dex finally loosens his hold, just enough that you can take a fuller breath, but he doesnβt move away. Heβs still behind you, still crowding your back, still panting like he ran a mile. When he lifts his head, his eyes flick to Matt with something sharp and furious, like he hates that Matt is still calm, still in control, still close.
Dex swallows, voice rough and bitter when he finally speaks. βHappy now?β he mutters, not really to you, not really to Matt, just to the room.
Mattβs hand stays on your hip, thumb still moving in slow circles like heβs keeping you anchored while your body tries to float right out of itself. Dex is still inside you, still trembling from his release, still crowding your back like he doesnβt know what to do with the fact that he got what he wanted and it didnβt fix the burn.
Matt shifts first, practical even when heβs wrecked. He eases Dex out of you with a controlled pull of your hips, not yanking, not careless, and you whine at the empty feeling because your cunt is greedy and overstimulated and already angry about losing the pressure. Dex makes a sharp sound behind you, half frustration, half hunger, and he starts to reach like heβs going to drag you back.
βOn your back,β Matt tells him, and itβs not a suggestion.
Dex laughs breathlessly, but he listens, because even he can hear the edge in Mattβs voice. He drops onto the pillows with a rough exhale, legs spreading a little like heβs trying to pretend itβs his idea, cock already hard again and shiny with slick. His eyes track you the whole time, bright and feral, like heβs daring either of you to deny him.
Matt guides you forward with both hands on your waist, turning you and pushing you down until your knees sink into the mattress. He nudges you back so youβre over Dex, straddling him, your pussy hovering over his cock. Youβre slick enough that the slide of your cunt over him feels obscene even before you take him, wetness smearing over his shaft with every tiny shift.
Dexβs hands clamp onto your hips immediately, grip firm, thumbs digging into the soft skin like heβs marking where you belong right now. βYeah,β Dex mutters, voice rough. βRight there. Donβt be shy.β
You try to roll your hips, trying to find friction, and Dex helps, guiding you in short, grinding strokes so his cock drags against your clit and the swollen lips of your cunt. Youβre not fully taking him yet, just teasing, just rubbing, and it still makes you gasp because everything is too sensitive. Your thighs tremble as the wet, hot slide keeps building pressure that you canβt relieve.
Matt kneels behind you, close enough that you feel his heat at your back before he touches you. His hands land on your hips over Dexβs, and the difference between them makes you shiver. Dex is possessive and impatient, Matt is steady and precise, and youβre trapped between them like a bad decision you canβt stop making.
βStay right there,β Matt murmurs, mouth brushing your ear. βIβm going to fuck you from behind.β
Your breath stutters, and you nod too fast. βPlease,β you whisper, because youβve lost any ability to pretend youβre in control.
Matt lines himself up behind you, guiding you back onto him. The first press of his cock at your entrance makes your whole body clench, and Dexβs grip tightens like heβs furious that Matt is taking what Dex wants. Matt doesnβt rush. He slides in slow, inch by inch, making you take him fully, making you feel him again after Dex, and the stretch turns sharp and perfect.
βFuck,β you choke, hands flying to Dexβs chest because you need something to hold. Dexβs skin is hot under your palms, his heartbeat too fast. He glares up at you like he wants to bite, like he wants to pull you down and ruin you, but he stays still because Mattβs hands are on your hips and Matt is in charge.
Matt sinks all the way in and stills for a beat, pressed tight to your ass. He leans forward until his chest meets your back, his mouth at your ear again, voice low and commanding. βMoan my name,β Matt says. βRight there. Into his shoulder.β
You make a helpless sound, and your body obeys before your brain catches up. You lean forward, mouth landing against Dexβs shoulder, and the next breath that leaves you is Mattβs name, broken and desperate like youβre confessing something you canβt take back.
Dex snarls, half-laughing, half-livid. βOh, youβve gotta be kidding me.β
Matt starts to move, slow at first, deep thrusts that use the angle of your body to hit exactly where youβre already trembling. Every push drives you forward onto Dex, and every pull drags Mattβs cock through your soaked cunt in a way that makes your vision blur.
Dexβs hands squeeze your hips hard enough to bruise later. βYouβre using me as furniture,β he growls, then his voice goes strained because the grind of your pussy over his cock is driving him insane. βAnd itβsβfuckβitβs working.β
Matt leans over you more, pressing his weight into your back, pushing your chest closer to Dex until your back arches. His hands slide from your hips up your sides, then one of them reaches forward and clamps around Dexβs throat. Not choking him out, not cutting off air, just holding him there, forcing him to stay still and feel it.
Dexβs eyes widen, then narrow, the rage and the thrill mixing into something ugly. βTouchy,β he spits, but his cock jumps under you anyway.
βShut up,β Matt murmurs, calm as sin. βTake it.β
Your hips stop grinding on their own because Mattβs hold and the arch of your back locks you into the position he wants. Now all you can do is take Mattβs thrusts from behind, feel the deep roll of him in your cunt, and feel Dex under you getting more desperate with every movement.
βMattββ you gasp, cheek pressed to Dexβs shoulder now, lips dragging over the skin because you need something to do with your mouth besides scream.
Mattβs pace picks up, still deep, still controlled, and his breath turns rough against your ear. βGood,β he says, like heβs praising you for falling apart exactly the way he wants. βThatβs it. Stay open.β
Dexβs hands shift, one sliding down your thigh like heβs about to pull you down onto him properly, and Mattβs grip at his throat tightens just enough to stop him.
βYou get what I give you,β Matt says softly, and itβs the kind of possessive that makes your cunt clench hard around him.
Dex laughs through his teeth, breathless and furious. βYouβre insane.β
Matt doesnβt argue, he just fucks you harder, using you like youβre his, and every thrust makes your pussy flutter and drip, wetness smearing over Dexβs cock underneath you. The sound is filthy, slick and loud, and it makes Dex jerk under you like heβs about to lose it again.
Your hand moves between your bodies and you push two fingers into Dexβs mouth, because you need leverage and because the idea hits you like a spark. Dexβs lips part instantly, tongue sliding over your fingers with a hungry, spiteful eagerness. He sucks like heβs trying to prove a point, cheeks hollowing, eyes locked on yours as if daring you to flinch.
You pull your fingers out shining with spit and use it to stroke Dex, slow and cruel, palm sliding down his shaft, thumb smearing over the head. Dexβs head falls back into the pillow with a broken sound, eyes rolling, hands tightening on your hips like heβs trying not to buck.
βFuck,β Dex breathes. βYouβreβyouβre doing that on purpose.β
βYeah,β you manage, voice shaking, because Mattβs cock keeps hitting that spot inside you and you canβt think straight. βShut up.β
Dexβs gaze snaps back to you, bright and pissed and turned on. He drags you down by the hips just enough to steal your mouth, grabbing your jaw with one hand and forcing a messy tongue kiss that tastes like heat and spit and something too sharp to be sweet. You whimper into it, and the sound gets swallowed between you.
Behind you, Mattβs breath catches like the sight and the sound hits him somewhere deep. He doesnβt pull away, doesnβt stop. He keeps fucking you from behind, hand still around Dexβs throat, using the hold to keep Dex right where he wants him while you fall apart on top of him.
βEyes on me,β Dex mutters against your mouth, possessive and mean.
Mattβs mouth brushes your ear again, and his voice is quieter, steadier, like a blade. βSay my name.β
Your body clenches hard, and the next moan that spills out is Mattβs name again, muffled into Dexβs mouth. Dex shudders like it hurts, like it makes him want to bite, and he kisses you harder anyway. Mattβs thrusts turn relentless, hips snapping in tighter rhythm, and you feel his control thinning. His hand at Dexβs throat tightens, then loosens, then tightens again like heβs gripping the last thread of restraint.
You stroke Dex faster now, spit making it slick, your fist sliding up and down his cock while your cunt takes Matt from behind. Dexβs breath turns ragged, hips twitching under you, and his hands clamp down like heβs trying not to shove you down and take what he wants.
βJesusββ Dex gasps. βYouβre gonna make meββ
βNot yet,β Matt says, and it isnβt loud, but it lands like a command anyway. βHold it.β
Dexβs eyes flash, furious, and he trembles through it. βGo to hell.β
Mattβs answer is a hard thrust that makes you cry out and clench around him so tight his breath breaks. You feel his cock pulse, feel his whole body go rigid behind you, and then Matt groans low against your back as he comes again, deep and hot, holding you still with both hands while he rides it out. One hand stays on your hip, the other keeps Dex pinned by the throat, and the control in it makes your whole body melt even while you shake.
Matt doesnβt collapse afterward. He stays pressed to you, chest to your back, breathing hard, lips at your shoulder like he needs to keep contact. His grip loosens slowly, like heβs easing himself back from the edge by inches.
βThatβs it,β Matt murmurs, voice rough, thumb stroking your hip again. βBreathe. Stay with me.β
Dex is staring up at you like he wants to kill someone and kiss you at the same time, cock twitching in your hand, frustration and need making his jaw clench. He swallows, then drags his thumb across your lower belly like heβs claiming a piece of you he doesnβt have the right to claim.
βYou two are disgusting,β Dex mutters.
Dex doesnβt wait for Matt to answer, because Dex isnβt actually asking. Heβs already moving, already reaching, already turning that restless, hungry energy into action like he canβt stand sitting in the aftermath for even one more second.
He hooks an arm under your thigh and drags you off him with a sharp pull, flipping you onto your back in one quick motion that knocks the air out of you. The mattress dips hard, sheets bunching under your shoulders, and your head ends up near the edge of the bed, slightly hanging off. Dex climbs over you immediately, sweat shining on his throat, eyes wild and focused like you just became his target.
βYou think youβre done?β Dex mutters, and his hands clamp down on your thighs, spreading you open like he owns the right to. βYouβre not done. Iβm not done.β
Matt is close enough that you can feel him shift, and you can hear his breathing change, sharper, more controlled. He doesnβt grab Dex off you, but his hand lands on your ankle for a second, thumb pressing into your skin like a quiet check-in. Itβs Mattβs way of asking without interrupting, and you answer the same way, flexing your foot gently against his touch because youβre too wrecked to form a full sentence without it turning into a moan.
Dex lines himself up and pushes back into you with a rough thrust that makes your whole body jolt. Your cunt takes him easily because youβre soaked and overstimulated, and the obscene slick sound that comes with it makes Dexβs mouth twist like heβs pleased and pissed at the same time.
βFuck,β you gasp, hands grabbing at his shoulders because you need something to hold while he starts moving. Dex doesnβt build slowly, he drives into you like heβs determined to make you forget how Matt felt, like heβs trying to pound the comparison out of your body with brute force.
Matt moves to your head, not away, not sulking, just repositioning like heβs doing damage control the way he always does. He sits beside you on the bed and cups the side of your face, thumb brushing your cheekbone, then your lower lip. His voice is low and steady, close enough to be private even with Dex right there.
βBreathe,β Matt murmurs. βYouβre okay. You tell me if you need anything.β
Dex hears it and gets worse on purpose. He leans down and kisses you mid-thrust, mouth hot and messy, swallowing the sounds you canβt keep back. His tongue pushes in like heβs trying to claim your mouth the same way heβs claiming your cunt, and you whine into it because the pace is brutal and the heat in your blood makes it feel too good.
When Dex pulls back for air, he keeps one hand on your jaw, fingers digging in just enough to make you look at him. βLook at me,β Dex demands, voice rough. βSay it. Say my name.β
Your eyes flutter, unfocused, and you try to glare at him because heβs being an asshole, but your body betrays you immediately. Dex thrusts deep again, hitting a spot that makes your thighs shake, and the sound that breaks out of you is helpless. βDex,β you gasp, and his grin turns sharp and satisfied like he just scored a hit.
βAgain,β he says, and he thrusts harder, making the bed creak, making your breath break. βCome on. Louder. I want him to hear it.β
Mattβs hand slides down to your shoulder, thumb pressing into the muscle like heβs keeping you grounded. He doesnβt argue with Dex, he just stays there, close, letting you hold onto him, letting you decide what comes out of your mouth.
Dex keeps driving into you, rhythm turning relentless, and you grab Mattβs wrist with shaking fingers because you need something solid. Mattβs palm flips and catches your hand, squeezing once, and you feel your stomach flip because even with Dex fucking you like heβs trying to win, Mattβs touch still feels like home.
Dexβs eyes flick to Mattβs hand holding yours, and something mean flashes across his face. He leans down again, kissing you hard, swallowing your moans, then breaks the kiss just to speak right at your mouth. βYou like me?β Dex spits, like itβs an insult. βYou like how I fuck you? Tell me.β
βFuck, yes,β you choke out, because youβre too hot to lie and too far gone to be polite. Dexβs thrusts stutter for half a beat like the answer hit him hard, then he snaps back into a faster pace that makes you see stars.
Matt shifts slightly, moving closer to your head, and you turn into him automatically. His mouth brushes your forehead, then the corner of your lips, and you can tell heβs holding his restraint by force, breathing too hard for someone whoβs βfine.β
βYou can hold onto me,β Matt murmurs, voice rougher now. βDo what you need.β
Dex hears that too, and it makes him furious. He grabs your thigh and hikes it higher over his hip, angling you so he can go deeper, harder. The change punches a sharp moan out of you, and Dex makes a satisfied sound like heβs collecting it. βThere,β Dex says, grinning. βThere you go. Thatβs what I want. Thatβs mine.β
Mattβs thumb slides along your cheek again, and his voice stays calm even if the tension in it is obvious. βDonβt,β he warns quietly, like heβs reminding Dex heβs allowed to be here but not allowed to claim.
Dex doesnβt care, he leans down and kisses you again, filthy and hungry, and the way he thrusts turns almost frantic. Heβs chasing something now, not just relief, but proof, and he wants it so badly itβs making him reckless.
Your hand slips down between your bodies, reaching for Dexβs wrist like youβre trying to steady him, and he catches it, pins it above your head with one hand while the other stays on your jaw. Youβre spread wide, legs shaking around his hips, pussy clenching and fluttering around him like youβre teetering on the edge of another orgasm you canβt control.
βSay it,β Dex demands again, breath ragged. βSay my name. Please me. Come on.β
βDex,β you moan, and then it turns into a breathless string of it because he wonβt stop hitting that spot. βDexβfuckβDexβpleaseββ
Dexβs eyes blow wide, and his mouth twists like he hates how good it feels to hear you beg. He thrusts harder, faster, the slick sound turning obscene, and you feel his control shredding.
Mattβs hand tightens around yours at your side, a steady squeeze that keeps you from floating away completely. He doesnβt interrupt, but his mouth brushes your temple, and his voice is low enough that only you can catch it. βIβm here,β Matt murmurs. βStay with me.β
Dexβs breath turns jagged, and he makes a harsh sound like a laugh that got twisted into a groan. βYeah, yeah,β he grits out, then thrusts deep and holds it there, shaking. βFuckββ
Dex comes hard, angry and shaking, cock pulsing inside you in thick, hot spurts that make your body clench around him. He squeezes your jaw, then releases it like he just realized he was holding too tight, and he drops his forehead to your shoulder with a rough exhale that sounds like he wants to scream and refuses to give anyone the satisfaction.
He stays there for a second, still buried, breathing like heβs furious at his own body. Then he lets out a low, bitter laugh under his breath, the kind that doesnβt sound happy at all. βGod,β Dex mutters, voice shaking. βThat feltβ¦ so fucking good.β
Matt doesnβt let the silence after Dexβs last laugh turn into another round of posturing. Heβs breathing hard, his palm still warm against your skin, and you can feel the difference now that the worst of the chemical spike isnβt clawing at your throat anymore. The heat is still there, still sticky under your ribs, but it isnβt as sharp as it was ten minutes ago, and that almost makes it worse because you can think again just enough to realize how fucking wrung out you are.
Dex shifts off you with a rough exhale, rolling onto his side like heβs trying to hide how shaky he feels. He looks at you like he wants to say something clever, something mean, something that puts him back on top of the moment, but the words donβt come as easily now. He settles for a tight smile and a hand on your thigh, thumb pressing into your skin like heβs reminding you heβs still here.
Mattβs voice cuts in, low and steady. βWeβre close.β
Dex scoffs, but itβs weak. βClose to what, the end of your little domestic nightmare?β
βClose to it wearing off,β Matt says, and he shifts closer by sound and feel, his hand finding your hip like it always does. His fingers spread, grounding, and his thumb starts that slow circle thatβs become the rhythm of the whole night. βYouβre not shaking as much. Your breathingβs different.β
You swallow and nod even though he canβt see it, then force the words out because thatβs how youβve stayed sane through all of this. βItβs not gone,β you say, voice raw. βItβs still there. Itβs justβ¦ not screaming.β
Matt hums once, like he agrees. Dex drags the back of his hand across his mouth, eyes flicking between you and Matt like heβs trying to decide if he hates the idea of it ending more than he hates the fact that Mattβs right about it.
βWe finish it,β Matt says, simple as that.
Dexβs smile sharpens. βWe?β
Matt turns his head slightly toward him, and even without eye contact itβs obvious whoβs in control. βYouβve been in my apartment for hours,β Matt says, tone flat. βYou can handle ten more minutes without trying to start a fight.β
Dex opens his mouth and then closes it again, jaw working like heβs biting down on the urge to run it. His gaze drops to you, then to Mattβs hand on you, then back up to your face like heβs looking for the crack he can wedge himself into.
You breathe in, slow, then say it before Dex can poison the moment. βIf itβs fading, I want the last part toβ¦ end. Like, actually end.β
Mattβs hand slides from your hip up your side, his palm flattening over your stomach for a second like heβs checking youβre steady, then he kisses the corner of your mouth, slow and grounding. βAlright,β Matt says, and his voice drops into that calm command that makes your body settle even while itβs on fire. βDex. On your back. Head on the pillow. Hands where I can find them.β
Dex stares at him for a beat, then smirks like heβs about to refuse on principle, but he doesnβt. He flops back onto the pillows with exaggerated ease, arms spreading out like heβs presenting himself for inspection, cock already half-hard again and twitching like the chemical is refusing to fully let go. βBossy,β Dex mutters. βThought you were the Catholic one.β
Mattβs answer is quiet. βKeep talking and you donβt get anything.β
Dex shuts up immediately, which would be hilarious if it wasnβt also obscene. Matt guides you by your waist, turning you carefully, helping you get your knees under you again because your legs are still shaky from everything. He doesnβt look at Dex to place you, he doesnβt need to; he uses touch the way he always does, hands firm on your hips, moving you inch by inch until youβre positioned over Dexβs face.
Dexβs eyes go bright, and his hands lift like he canβt help himself, then he freezes when Mattβs fingers press into his wrist as a reminder. Dexβs mouth opens slightly, tongue visible, and he looks up at you like heβs about to ruin you just to prove he can. βSit,β Dex murmurs, voice rough. βCβmon.β
Mattβs hands tighten on your hips. βSlow,β he tells you, close to your ear. βYou tell me if you get dizzy. You tell me if you canβt breathe.β
βI can breathe,β you manage, and you sound like youβre trying to convince yourself, because the position alone makes your cunt throb. βIβm good.β
Matt helps you lower, guiding you down until youβre hovering right above Dexβs mouth, then another inch, until Dexβs lips brush your slick skin and you jerk with a gasp. Dexβs hands clamp onto your thighs immediately, holding you open, and he moans into you like heβs been denied air for hours.
βFuck,β Dex breathes against your pussy, and the vibration makes your thighs tremble. βThatβsβyeah. Thatβs it.β
He starts eating you out like heβs making a point. His tongue is flat and heavy, pressure too much and perfect, and you have to grab Mattβs forearm to keep from collapsing forward. Matt steadies you instantly, one hand on your waist, the other sliding up your back, holding you upright while Dexβs mouth works you open and greedy.
Your head ends up near Dexβs cock, and the sight of itβhard and flushed, twitchingβmakes your stomach flip. Dex notices, of course he notices, and his fingers squeeze your thighs like heβs trying to keep you exactly where he wants you.
βGo on,β Dex says, voice muffled against your cunt. βUse your mouth.β
You lean forward and wrap your lips around him, and Dex makes a harsh sound that turns into another groan into your pussy. The combination is instantly overwhelming: Dexβs mouth on your clit, your mouth on his cock, and Matt behind you, hands steady on your hips like heβs preparing to do the last thing your body needs to finally stop buzzing.
Matt shifts behind you, and you feel him press in close, his breath hot at your shoulder. His fingers slide down your spine, then to your hips again, and he nudges you forward just enough to get the angle he wants.
βBreathe,β Matt murmurs, and he kisses your shoulder once, slow.
You moan around Dexβs cock, the sound vibrating, and Dexβs hands tighten on your thighs like heβs losing patience. Matt pushes in slowly, stretching you in a way that makes your eyes water, and the moment heβs inside you, the world narrows down to sensation again. Itβs not the frantic, desperate edge from earlier; itβs heavy and deep, like youβre so sensitive that every inch feels doubled.
Dexβs tongue goes meaner the second he feels Matt moving inside you. He sucks hard at your clit like heβs trying to pull your orgasm out of you first, like heβs trying to prove he can still win something even in a setup Matt arranged.
You pull off Dexβs cock just long enough to gasp, βfuckβDex,β then you take him again, because the heat is still there and the only way through it is more. Dexβs cock jerks in your mouth, and his groan turns into another muffled sound against your pussy as he eats you out harder.
Matt sets a pace behind you, steady and controlled. His hands stay on your hips, guiding the motion when your body tries to squirm away from the overstimulation, and every time you wobble, he corrects you with touch instead of words, keeping you upright, keeping you open, keeping you from falling apart too early.
Dex tries to talk again, of course he does, and it comes out broken between breaths. βYou tasteβfuckβyou taste so good,β he mutters against your cunt, loud enough that Matt can hear it. βYouβre gonnaβyeah, youβre gonna come all over my mouth.β
Matt leans closer and his mouth brushes your ear. βStay with me,β he says, and his voice is calm even though his thrusts get a little deeper, a little firmer. βDonβt rush it. Let it build.β
Dexβs hands slide up your thighs like he wants to drag you down harder onto his face. Mattβs grip on your hips tightens, and he pushes you down just enough that Dexβs mouth is fully buried, your pussy pressed into his face. Dex groans into you like heβs in heaven and hell at the same time, and the vibration nearly makes you lose your grip on his cock.
You gag slightly when Dex twitches hard in your mouth, and you pull back for air, spit shining on your lips. Mattβs hand slides to the back of your head immediately, not forcing, just guiding, and his voice turns low and firm. βBack on him,β Matt murmurs. βJust like that. Take what you need.β
You do it because you canβt not, because the structure is the only thing keeping you from going dizzy. You take Dex again, sucking him slow and deep, and Dex makes a strangled noise that turns into a growl into your pussy. His tongue keeps working your clit with brutal, perfect pressure, and his fingers dig into your thighs like heβs trying to hold you still while his whole body wants to buck.
Mattβs thrusts deepen, steady and relentless, and the way his cock hits inside you makes your entire body tighten. You moan around Dexβs cock, the sound wet and obscene, and Dex shudders under you like that noise just tipped him closer to the edge.
βFuck,β Dex gasps into you. βMattβstopβsheβsββ
Matt doesnβt stop, he doesnβt even acknowledge the plea with words. He simply changes the angle, lifting your hips slightly with his hands and driving into you a little harder, and the shift makes Dex choke on a groan because your pussy grinds down on his tongue in a way that feels like punishment and reward at the same time.
You canβt keep quiet anymore. The orgasm builds fast and heavy, not the sharp frantic spike from earlier, but a thick wave that keeps rising, and youβre trapped between themβMatt filling you, Dex swallowing youβuntil your whole body starts trembling.
βMatt,β you gasp, pulling off Dexβs cock just long enough to say it, voice broken. βIβm gonnaββ
βI know,β Matt says immediately, and his voice turns softer even while he keeps thrusting. βLet it happen. Breathe.β
Dex doesnβt give you time to breathe. He sucks hard at your clit like heβs trying to make you black out, and your thighs shake around his head as your orgasm hits. You come hard, cunt clenching around Matt, hips jerking downward onto Dexβs face, and the sound you make is messy and loud and completely uncontrolled.
Matt holds you through it, hands locked on your hips to keep you from collapsing. His thrusts turn shorter and tighter, chasing his own edge as your pussy clamps around him, and you feel him go rigid behind you. His breath breaks against your shoulder, and he groans low as he comes, deep and hot, holding you still while he rides it out.
Dexβs cock twitches in your hand as he hears Matt lose control, and Dex makes a furious, needy sound like he hates that it turns him on. You take him back into your mouth without thinking, sucking him through it, and Dexβs hands squeeze your thighs hard enough to leave marks.
βDonβt stop,β Dex grits out, voice shaking. βDonβt you fucking stop.β
You donβt. You keep sucking him, spit slick, rhythm steady even while your body is still shaking from your orgasm. Dexβs mouth is still on your pussy, tongue slower now but stubborn, like he refuses to give up the contact. The chemical is fading, but Dex is greedy and spiteful and desperate to get his last release before it fully lets him go.
Dex bucks once under you, hard, and Mattβs hands tighten on your hips again to keep you balanced. Dexβs cock throbs in your mouth, and he comes with a rough, broken groan that he tries to swallow, but fails. His orgasm makes him tremble under you, hands clamping down like heβs trying to hold onto something while it slips away.
For a few seconds none of you move. Youβre panting, slick, shaking, and the heat in your body finally starts to ebb in a way that feels real, like the pressure is draining out instead of building again.
Matt stays behind you, chest pressed to your back, mouth at your shoulder, breathing hard but slower now. His hands soften on your hips, turning from control into support.
Dex lies under you with his eyes half-lidded, still flushed, lips wet, chin shining, and he looks up at you like he wants to say something cruel just to prove he can. What comes out is a rough exhale and a bitter, shaky laugh. βHoly shit,β Dex mutters, and he sounds like he hates that he means it. βI think itβs actuallyβ¦ wearing off.β
Mattβs hands stay on you for a while after, not gripping anymore, just steadying, like heβs making sure youβre actually present and not drifting. He shifts carefully to get you off Dex, guiding you by the waist and shoulders so you donβt topple on shaky legs. The second your feet touch the floor your knees threaten to give, and Matt catches you like heβs done it a thousand times, one hand at the back of your neck, the other braced at your hip.
βSlow,β Matt murmurs, mouth near your temple. βBreathe for me. In and out, donβt rush it.β
βIβm breathing,β you rasp, then immediately prove youβre not by sucking in a short, shaky inhale that turns into a laugh because itβs either that or cry. Your skin feels too warm, tacky with sweat, and the air in the room feels thick even though the worst of the fever is finally fading.
Matt steers you to the edge of the bed and sits you down, then disappears for a second. You hear the faucet run, cabinets opening, the muted clink of a glass, and then heβs back with water and a cold washcloth. He presses the cloth to the back of your neck first, then your forehead, then your cheeks, gentle and methodical.
βDrink,β he says, and he guides the glass into your hands like heβs worried youβll spill it.
You take a few sips and immediately realize how dry your throat is. βJesus,β you mutter, swallowing again. βI feel like I ran a marathon.β
βYou kind of did,β Matt says, dry but not teasing. His thumb drags over your pulse point at your wrist in a small check, then his palm settles there like he wants to feel you steady. βAny dizziness? Any nausea?β
βNo,β you say, then pause because your stomach flips once as the room tilts slightly. βOkay, maybe a little dizzy.β
Mattβs hand tightens lightly on the back of your neck. βThen you sit,β he says, calm and firm. βYou donβt try to be brave right now.β
Across the bed, Dex is quieter than he has been all night, which is almost unsettling. Heβs sitting on the floor with his back against the side of the mattress, head tipped back, forearm over his eyes like heβs trying to hide the fact that he needs a minute. His breathing is still too fast, but itβs not frantic anymore, and the sharp edge of him looks blunted, like somebody finally turned the volume down.
He lifts his arm just enough to peer at you and Matt, and even now he canβt help himself. βYou always this domesticated?β he asks, voice rough. The line is clearly meant to be snarky, but it lands thin, like he didnβt have the energy to sharpen it.
Matt doesnβt take the bait. He wipes your cheek with the cloth again, then sets it on your shoulder and keeps his hand there. βYouβre leaving as soon as you can stand without falling,β he says, like heβs reading a grocery list.
Dexβs mouth quirks. βSo romantic.β
βYouβre still in my apartment,β Matt replies, and the calm in his voice is the kind that makes the room feel smaller. βDonβt make me regret letting you walk out instead of dragging you.β
Dexβs eyes flick up toward Mattβs face, then down to Mattβs hand on your shoulder like heβs cataloging the claim again, even if heβs too wrung out to argue with it. βRelax,β he mutters. βIβm not staying for brunch.β
You take another sip of water, then set the glass down on the nightstand with a careful clink. Your muscles feel heavy, and your skin feels too sensitive in that post-overload way that makes the idea of putting on clothes feel like work. You grab the sheet and pull it over your lap because you need one normal human action to latch onto. βOkay,β you say, voice steadier now. βWeβre not doing the βstand around and glare at each otherβ thing. We need to clean. We need air. And we need to get rid of anything that might still have that chemical on it.β
Dex makes a noncommittal sound, but he pushes himself upright with a small wince, like his body is protesting. Mattβs head turns toward you immediately, attentive. βYou want windows?β Matt asks.
βYes,β you say. βAll of them. Bedroom, living room. And we need trash bags. Gloves. Anything that touched your suits needs to get bagged.β
Matt nods once and stands, moving with that careful efficiency he slips into when heβs trying not to think about what just happened. You hear the bedroom window slide up, then the living room windows. Air drifts in, cool and city-dirty, and it helps. It doesnβt erase the heat in your blood, but it takes the edge off the room.
Dex gets to his feet and stretches like heβs trying to shake out the last of the chemical from his bones. He looks steadier now, but his gaze keeps drifting to you like heβs trying to memorize the situation and file it away for later. You point at him. βBathroom. Wash your hands. Like, actually wash them.β
Dexβs brows lift. βBossy.β
βNot negotiable,β you shoot back, and youβre proud your voice doesnβt wobble.
Dexβs smile twitches, then he actually goes, disappearing down the hall. You hear the faucet turn on and, shockingly, soap.
Matt comes back in with trash bags and a roll of paper towels. βIβll bag the suits,β he says, and you can hear him trying to keep it neutral, trying to turn it into a task so he doesnβt have to sit in the reality of having Dex here at all.
βIβll wipe down surfaces,β you say, already standing carefully, sheet clutched at your waist. βCoffee table, counters, doorknobs. Anything you two touched.β
Mattβs hand finds your elbow immediately, steadying you without smothering. βIf you start to sway, you sit,β he says quietly.
βI will,β you promise, then add, because you know he needs to hear it, βIβm okay.β
He pauses like heβs listening to your heartbeat, then leans in and presses his forehead lightly to yours. βOkay,β he says back, softer than heβs been all night.
You move into the kitchen and find the plastic bag with the broken test tube shard where you left it. Seeing it again makes your stomach tighten, because itβs a stupid little piece of glass that caused all of this, and it feels unreal that itβs still sitting there like any other mess.
Dex comes back from the bathroom wiping his hands on a towel he definitely didnβt ask permission to use. He stops when he sees the bag on the counter, eyes narrowing slightly like his brain is finally catching up to the mission part of the night.
βThat the souvenir?β he asks.
βYeah,β you say, and you keep your tone flat. βAnd youβre not touching it.β
Dex gives you a look that says heβs annoyed you clocked him so easily. βWasnβt going to.β
Mattβs voice comes from the hallway, calm and cold. βYou were.β
Dex turns his head toward the sound with a sharp little grin. βYou canβt prove that.β
Matt doesnβt move closer, doesnβt raise his voice. βTry it,β he says simply.
For a second the room feels like itβs on the edge of snapping again, not chemical this time, just old hatred and pride and the fact that Dex is Dex. You step between it before it can happen, because youβre done with men trying to make your apartment a battleground.
βHereβs whatβs going to happen,β you say, and you make your voice firm enough that it cuts through both of them. βDex, youβre leaving. Not later when you feel like itβwhen you can walk straight, which looks like itβs basically now. You donβt take anything from this apartment. You donβt touch that bag. And you do not come back.β
Dexβs eyes flick to you, then soften into something sharper. βAw,β he says, quiet and ugly-sweet. βYouβre making rules.β
βYes,β you say. βBecause you clearly donβt know how to exist without someone making them for you.β
Dexβs jaw flexes, and you can see the irritation, the spite, the obsession all mixing behind his eyes. He opens his mouth like heβs going to say something cutting, then his gaze flicks past you to Matt. βYou hear that?β Dex says, voice low. βYour girlβs got a spine. I like that.β
Mattβs answer is immediate and controlled. βLeave.β
Dex takes a step backward toward the door, then pauses like he canβt help himself. βThis isnβt over,β he says, and itβs not even a threat thatβs trying to sound cool. Itβs just a fact in his tone, like heβs already decided he gets to stay in your orbit.
You stare at him, letting your expression go flat. βIt is for me.β
Dexβs smile twitches like you slapped him. He looks at you too long, then turns and walks out. He doesnβt slam the door; he lets it click shut behind him like heβs leaving on purpose instead of being thrown out.
Matt locks it immediately. The sound of the deadbolt sliding home is the first thing all night that makes your shoulders drop. Matt stands there for a second with his hand still on the lock, head bowed slightly like heβs listening for Dexβs footsteps in the hall, for the elevator, for proof heβs actually gone.
Then Matt turns and comes back to you, and the moment he reaches you he cups the back of your neck and leans his forehead to yours again, breathing like heβs finally allowing his lungs to work.
βIβm sorry,β he says quietly.
βYou can apologize later,β you murmur, and you squeeze his wrist. βRight now, I want a shower and clean sheets and, ideally, a world where nobody ever breaks a glass cage full of mystery chemicals again.β
Matt lets out a strained laugh that sounds like relief more than humor. βYeah,β he says. βMe too.β
---
Two weeks later, the apartment feels normal again in the way it always does after something violent tries to stain it. The sheets are clean, the couch has been scrubbed, the trash bags are long gone, and youβve managed to file the whole night into that mental drawer labeled βnever talk about this unless you absolutely have to.β
Matt comes home with groceries and bruises and a tired kiss that makes you feel like your body belongs to you again. You make dinner, you argue about whether he needs more sleep, and you pretend you donβt flinch when you hear sirens outside.
On a Tuesday afternoon, you bring the mail upstairs in a messy stack, flipping through the usual junk with your thumb. Mattβs at the kitchen counter, rinsing fruit, head tilted toward you like heβs listening for the tone of your voice more than the words.
βBills,β you mutter. βAds. Something for you from the bar association.β You pause, because one envelope doesnβt match the rest. Itβs a plain envelope with no return address, and your name printed neatly on the front like somebody took their time. βMatt,β you call, trying to keep your voice casual and failing.
βWhat is it?β He asks, turning off the faucet.
βThereβsβ¦ a letter,β you say, and you pick it up carefully, like it might bite. βNo return address.β
Mattβs footsteps are quiet, controlled, and he stops close enough that you can feel him beside you. βDonβt open it yet,β he says, and his voice goes tight in that way it does when his instincts are screaming.
You donβt, not until heβs right there, one hand hovering near your wrist like heβs ready to pull you back if something goes wrong. You slide a finger under the flap and open it slowly, trying not to tear the paper. Inside is a single card, thick and clean, like it came from a nice stationery shop.
Thereβs no long message; no rant, no explanation. Just a small circle drawn in black ink, and inside it, a clean bullseye.
Your stomach drops.
Mattβs hand closes around your wrist gently but firmly. βWhat is it?β he asks, already knowing itβs bad from your breathing.
You swallow and slide the card toward him even though he canβt see it. βItβsβ¦ a symbol,β you say, voice tight. βA bullseye.β
Matt goes very still. His jaw clenches. His thumb presses once at your pulse point, not to calm you, but like heβs grounding himself too. βIs there anything written?β he asks, voice low.
You flip the card over with shaking fingers. Thereβs one line in the same neat print as the envelope: Thanks for the hospitality.
You look at Matt, and his face is calm in the way it gets right before violence, right before he turns into Daredevil instead of your boyfriend.
βWas he here?β you whisper.
Mattβs hand slides from your wrist to your cheek, warm and steady. βNo,β he says quietly. βHe wants us to think he was.β
You stare at the stupid little card, anger and fear twisting together in your chest. βHeβs not done.β
Mattβs mouth tightens, and he leans in until his forehead touches yours again, voice low enough that it feels like a promise. βNeither am I.β
extra notes: look, all i'm gonna say is, i prob will come back to this as my horny release, lol. mostly because i feel betrayed by myself and really want to write a dexmatt kiss. like could you imagine them fucking you from each end while kissing over you?????? yeah can't believe i didn't write that
everything: @clxt-lamb1 @person-005 @bookoffracturedescapes @macbaetwo @demiebarnes
matt murdock: @ultimatewolverine @steviebbboi @crowleythesexydemon @harleycao @wkhannah @star-yawnzzn @baguwagu @hawke1917 @hexedangelx
dex poindexter: @ultimatewolverine @nightmerzer @hexedangelx @avidreader73
edit (5/28/26): please read this post before asking for a part 2. i am not a robot, i am a human being with a busy life. i do not know when a part 2 will be made, but i know it will take a while. please do not ask when part 2 will happen, because i don't know.
