Author's note: Deep apologies for the incorrect use of grammar and punctuation. I wrote this fanfic in my native language and translated it on google 'cause I don't fully trust my English skills to the point of writing 4k words, so the punctuation was used according to my language.
It's probably the worst thing I've ever written in my life lol but I've been missing sub!Moon boys. (Also this is my first smut and the first thing I've ever written in here.)
Enjoy it!
He could feel everything.
He could feel the thin air rushing through his lungs and his throat drying out with each heaving breath. He could feel the cool wooden floor against his knees and the black fabric of the blindfold caress his lashes. The ropes tied to his wrists were starting to burn slightly at this point, and he feared he would burst into flames, his body as hot as the fire the devil burned in hell.
He could feel the cold wind trying to calm his body down, failing. He could hear the quiet hum, an icy whisper, passing through the half-open window of your apartment and hitting his skin.
Slap.
A groan escaped his dry throat as the leather of the whip hitted his left thigh.
Slap. A moan.
" Look at you."
He heard your footsteps around him, taking in the image of the big, fearless Marc Spector. The same man who'd been in the army fighting wars that weren't his, killing enemies that weren't his, facing bullets and mud and the cold like the big strong man he was. The man he needed to be. The man who wasn't afraid to stand up to his enemies, who would never be defeated by them, who wouldn't show weakness in front of them, who would never go down on his knees for them.
But for you, he would.
Your breath was almost caught in your throat as you circled him, rubbing the material of the whip gently over his shoulder and neck in time with your slow steps, admiring the image in front of you.
On his knees with his legs spread apart, his black boxer briefs felt tighter now, marking and rubbing against his rock hard cock, a dark wet spot marking where his tip was, leaking precum. The blindfold covering his eyes was a little damp from the few tears that formed and clung to his lashes. His mouth was parted, breathing heavily, his lips wet and glistening with saliva every time he ran his tongue to moisten them. His hands moved restlessly against the ropes tied behind his back, fingers curling and squeezing palms together leaving small half moons shaped, and red marks formed where the whip's leather had met his skin earlier.
The big and fearless Marc Spector who fought in battles and endured the torture of enemies was no longer there. Right now there was the other side of Marc; the most vulnerable and submissive side, that wanted to be taken care of and surrender control.
" You are so beautiful, Marc."
He felt his cheeks get a little warm, and his head moved from one side to another looking for you. Now facing him, you chuckled low and placed one foot on his chest pushing him lightly, enough to make him lose some balance for a few seconds. He gasped in surprise at the sudden act.
Your foot dropped lower, resting on his left thigh on top of where the whip had hit him earlier, and he let out a low moan at the feeling. You moved your foot in small, invisible circles, massaging the sore spot. Moving higher, you delicately traced an imaginary line across his groin, sighing as you put pressure on his covered cock, feeling how hard and wet he was just from your previous actions.
" Please." He moaned, letting out a heavy breath as you applied more pressure.
You smiled as his mouth opened a little more, sucking on a breath, ready to let out a groan of pleasure, but instead a groan of frustration came out as you withdrew your foot from his swollen, needy cock.
" Please, Y/n" He whined.
Your hands reached forward, touching his face and caressing his cheek with your thumb in a gentle caress, unlike the roughness you hit him earlier.
" Tell me what you need."
He leaned into your touch, his legs opening a little more suggestively before answering: " touch me."
You smiled at the act, watching as the Adam's apple rose and fell nervously, swallowing saliva, and then moistening his lips once more.
Feeling particularly pious—after all, he handled each lash of the whip so well against his sensitive brown skin—, you once again positioned your foot over the lush bulge in his black boxers, putting pressure and moving your foot slowly up and down.
He tilted his head forward and his mouth opened in an unashamed moan, finally getting some friction on his swollen and certainly red angry cock.
" Oh shit..."
" Does it feel good, baby?"
He whined as you grabbed his hair and pulled his head back almost roughly. He opened his mouth to try to answer your question, but when you applied more pressure and moved your foot faster, pressing harder as it touched his sensitive tip, all he could do was moan and shake his head, but your tight grip on his hair ached and heightened his pleasure. " Ye- hah- shit, yes..."
" You can't come until I say so, got it?" you pulled his hair more roughly, making him look up to you and he shook his head once more.
His face touched your thigh as you moved closer to him. He felt the fabric of the black lace lingerie you wore before you blindfolded him, and felt the heat and wetness emanating from your pussy. He moaned, from the pleasure and from imagining how wet you must be right now, how hot you were and how close his mouth was. He could almost taste you, the scent entering his nostrils and making his cock twitch in his boxers. He brought his face as close as the grip on his hair would allow, kissing the insides of your spread thighs and closing his teeth around the soft flesh in a silent request as he moved against your foot, gasping and moaning.
" Wanna have a taste, babyboy?" You asked as he kept kissing and biting your thigh, nodding and moaning little pleas, moving his hips faster against your foot the best he could.
The hand that was on his head came free, the thumb and forefinger held his face tightly instead, moving it back. You leaned forward, your foot stopped moving, pressing almost painfully into his cock and he moaned loud, enjoying the added pain. Your mouth came dangerously close to his parted, glossy lips, your breath mingling with his, making him sigh anticipating a kiss.
" You have to earn it." You whispered against his lips before catching them with your teeth and pulling them slowly and gently.
He whined frustrated at your answer. Your foot moved up and down again, fast and hard, and he moaned desperately, grinding his hips against your foot. His brows furrowed as you placed your thumb in his open mouth, his lips closed around it, and he let out a muffled groan, followed by a high-pitched moan deep in his throat.
The sight below your eyes was breathtaking, and you felt yourself getting wetter by the second, your fluids soaking through your panties, dripping down your thigh. You considered letting him taste you, let him move his lips and tongue desperately against you; as desperate as a thristy man looking for water in the desert. But seeing how his hands clenched behind his back, how his thighs trembled slightly, his hips stuttered, the moans grew louder and more frequent, seeing how his head slowly moved back with each gasp of air that came out of his lungs, how his cock started to throb uncontrollably and the pre-cum was leaking and wetting his underwear even more, you knew he was about to come. Without asking for your permission or telling you to stop because he didn't want to disobey you.
Instead, he kept moving against you, thinking about the mess he was going to make in his underwear, all for you. He wanted to cum in his briefs, hot and wet and sticky. He wanted to cum for you. He felt dirty and ashamed for thinking so but he couldn't help it, couldn't stop it. He was so damn close, almost there, a little more and he would- fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck, he's going to cum, he's going to cum, he's going to...
A frustrated, desperate moan left his lips as you pulled your foot away, stopping the delicious friction that would have made him come seconds earlier if you'd gone on, just a little longer, a second longer.
He was panting now, a lock of hair caught on his sweaty forehead. He opened his mouth to complain about the pleasure you stole from him, but you squeezed both sides of his cheek firmly with the hand that wasn't holding the whip. He didn't deserve to taste you, didn't deserve to cum yet.
" I said you don't get to cum until I say so." Your voice sounded rough before you let him go. "Ten. Count. If you miss one, we'll start it all over again, am I being clear?."
He swallowed, shook his head and wet his lips, whispering: "yes, ma'am."
You walked around him, taking in the state of his already red-marked body, not missing the way his cock twitched in anticipation.
Slap.
The whip came down against his back, making a high pitched noise. He groaned loudly and his back arched, his hands clenched behind his back.
" One."
Slap.
This time the leather hit lower, just above the curve of his ass, and his hips bucked.
" Two."
You circled him again, only taking a few steps before stopping in front of him. He was panting, his chest rising and falling fast and heavy, his head down, legs spread apart.
Slap.
The whip came down again, slamming against his chest and leaving a diagonal red line from his shoulder to his belly button. His brows furrowed, his jaw clenched before he opened his mouth and a strangled loud groan came out.
" Fuck!" He panted while a single tear ran down his right cheek. His ears began to ring a low bell in the distance. " Three."
The leather met his abdomen.
Slap. A moan.
"Four."
Your arm swung through the air, the whip cutting through the wind with a hiss before landing against his right thigh.
Slap.
His mouth let out a loud whimper and you didin't miss the way his dick twitched at the act. He paused, gasping and letting little moans escape his throat before he said in a low voice: "F-five."
The hand holding the whip came up once more, aiming for the lower part of his right thigh, but hitting the spot where it had hit seconds ago.
Slap.
His brows frowned, you could see his eyes close tightly through the blindfold. His breath caught in his throat as the leather hit his already bruised thigh, and when he managed to release the breath he'd been holding, he cried out. He lost his balance and his body fell forward, nearly hitting the ground. He panted hard and faster than before, little whimpers left his throat, his open mouth let a single drop of saliva run down and fall to the floor, his hands tightened, the rope rubbing his wrists.
You looked worriedly at your boyfriend on the cold wooden floor, crouched down to your heels, placed your hand over his hair in a gentle caress and were about to ask him if he wanted to stop when you saw him bite his lip and moan in pleasure. Just then you saw how his cock throbbed and leaked pre-come, leaking through the underwear and wetting it.
"S-six! Six, fuck, fuck..." Few tears streamed freely down his cheeks now. "Please, please." He sobbed.
You helped him get back to his previous position and got on the same level as him. Your thumb stroked and wiped away the few tears that ran down his cheek in a grounding, gently caress.
Despite the cold, hard wooden floor against his knees, he felt so light now, so good.
He felt a warm and soft touch against his cheek, a velvety voice spoke something in the background but he couldn't concentrate, the bells were drowning out other sounds. The floating sensation took over him.
You made him feel so light. So good.
" You're doing so well, baby, taking it so good". Your voice sounded soft.
He couldn't see because of the blindfold, but you looked at him with loving, worried eyes. You didn't want to cause him any kind of pain other than pleasure, but you trusted him to say the safe word if it was being too much for him.
He heard your voice in the background praising him and he moaned, pleading.
"Tell me what it is that you want." The hand that was holding the whip dropped it to the ground for a moment, and you placed your palm on his other cheek, holding his face and running your eyes slowly over it before placing a soft kiss on his lips.
You felt his lips move against yours, little moans erupting from his throat. When your tongue entered his mouth and stroked his, he melted and you heard the most shameless moan leave his lips. He leaned forward a little to deepen the kiss, his cock twitching once more, seeking friction.
When your lips left his, he whimpered.
"Tell me what you want me to do..." you bit his bottom lip, "...and I'll do it."
He felt his body so light that he swore he was floating. But he wasn't afraid of falling, he was sure there were clouds beneath him, supporting the weight gracefully, the soft material of them caressing his skin. He heard the bells ringing low in his ear and then your voice.
Tell me what you want me to do...
What did he want you to do with him? He felt so comfortable with you, so loved and safe. You made him feel so loved and safe, so good. He could be himself with you, he didn't need to be the man he was supposed to be, the man who fought wars that weren't his and killed enemies that weren't his. He didn't have to be the big, intimidating and brave Marc Spector, he didn't need to pretend he didn't get affected by all the things he's done, by all the people he's killed. He trusted you with his heart, body and soul.You took such good care of him, only you could make him feel so much pleasure, make him feel as light as if he were floating.
Tell me what you want me to do...
Anything. Everything.
He was yours and would let you do whatever you wanted with him. You could do anything with him, everything. You could break him into pieces, kill him even. He was yours to do as you please.
He felt his body getting heavier, slowly coming down from the clouds to the cold wooden floor. He moved slowly and heavily, and he didn't feel the ropes rub against his wrists, but they burned slightly now. When he opened his eyes, he realized he was no longer wearing the blindfold that now rested on the floor next to him. The low light irritated his eyes and he blinked, feeling the tears clinged to his lashes run down his cheeks. When he got used to the light he noticed your delicate features in front of him, searching for his eyes with worried ones, both your hands were holding his face gently and your mouth was moving producing distant sounds.
The bells in his ear grew low, fading away until they finally disappeared, and he could hear your voice.
"Marc, you with me, honey?" Your voice sounded soft, almost a whisper.
He blinked once more, looking around.
"Baby?" his voice was hoarse from so much panting and moaning.
You took a bottle of water that was beside you on the floor and offered it to him. Holding the bottle in one hand and the back of his head in the other, you helped him drink it all.
Like a thirsty man looking for water in the desert.
When he finished the whole bottle, you helped him up and guided him to bed.
"What happened? Why'd you stop?" He took your hands and looked at you, his brows furrowed in concern. "Did I do something wrong?"
You shook your head and leaned down to kiss his forehead gently, then the tip of his nose and finally a peck on his soft lips.
"We just took the game a little too far, that's all." You pecked his lips once more, sighed and squeezed his hand. "I want to take care of you now."
Seeing your eyes staring at him full of love and adoration but also full off worry, all he could do was sigh and agree, giving you a small smile. He would ask you what happened later.
He accepted your outstretched hand and let you lead him to the bathroom. He watched you as you filled the tub, took off your lingerie and got into the water. Your back leaned against the tub and you patted the water in front of you, signaling him to come in with you. He smiled seeing you put on a yellow rubber ducky, then took off his underwear and got into the bathtub with his back against your chest. His cock was still half hard and his body was sensitive. He sighed as he entered the warm water, hissing when it touched his wounds.
You ran your fingers gently over the red marks that weren't covered by water, your head bent forward and placed a chaste kiss on each one.
"Does it hurt?" You whispered with your cheek against his left shoulder.
"A little, but it's good." He blushed slightly at the admission.
His fingertips emerged from the water and touched yours, playing with them before intertwining his hand with yours. He felt you smile against his skin and give his hand a little squeeze.
"I'll still take care of it though."
You sat in silence, playing with each other's fingers, enjoying the warm water against your skin.
The comfortable silence continued as you washed his sweaty hair, noting how relaxed and content he looked. Your eyes roamed over his back, lost in other thoughts, replaying the scene from earlier…the way he'd said that.
Please, break me... kill me.
Tears threatened to form, and you kissed his back, then his shoulders, neck, ear, cheek, and when his hair was clean, you kissed the top of his head, whispering sweet nothings and how much you loved him all the while.
He sighed contentedly. His hands lifted above his head, pulling your face close to his in a chaste kiss. There was nothing suggestive about the kiss, it was his way of saying how much he loved you back, how much he appreciated the affection you had for him.
When the kiss ended you smiled against his lips, leaving a peck on the tip of his nose. He looked at you with loving eyes for a few seconds before leaving another peck on your lips, turning to the front again as you patted him affectionately on the shoulder.
As you ran the sponge over his body, careful not to hurt him or press against his bruises, his eyes were lost on the yellow rubber ducky floating in front of him, but he wasn't thinking about the duck. His mind was elsewhere.
"Baby?"
"Yeah?"
He kept looking at the duck and you kept rubbing his back.
"What happened earlier?"
He kept looking at the duck and you stopped rubbing his back.
You let out a sigh. You couldn't run away from this conversation, it wasn't fair to him, you couldn't leave him questioning and overthinking.
"I left you overwhelmed. I should have noticed when you entered subspace." You played with his wet hair. "You weren't really aware of what you were talking about and…you said a few things."
His body visibly tensed. The slightest chance that he could have hurt you in any way sickened him.
"You didn't say anything to hurt me, I promise." You kissed the back of his head assuring him.
"What did I say?"
You swallowed nervously before answering:
"You asked me to kill you."
His shoulders stiffened and he went still. His eyes were open and staring at the tile in front of him now, his mind racing a hundred miles trying to process what you just said.
The situation he had put you in.
He felt your hands touch his shoulders, heard the water moving as you came a little closer, if that was possible.
"Marc?"
The water stirred again as he shifted and turned, facing you. When your eyes met, his held a glint of guilt. For saying those things, for making you worry, for scaring you.
"I'm sorry". He whispered.
Your brows furrowed, and you cupped his face with both hands and looked into his eyes. His hands found your wrists and held them gently.
"You don't have to apologize for anything, okay? You didn't do anything wrong. It wasn't your fault."
His eyes got wet, and he opened his mouth to say otherwise but shut it up when your lips found his. Your thumbs caressed his cheek as your lips moved against each other, the salty taste of a tear that had fallen from his eyes mixed with the sweet kiss.
"I love you very, very much. I want you to trust me to tell me how you feel, okay? You're a good man, Marc, and I'm proud of you every day." He nodded with tearful eyes, his hands caressing your wrists. "I'll always be here for you."
You kissed his forehead tenderly.
"Even when you make horrible tea."
He chuckled low, and wrapped you in a hug.
"Thank you." He whispered in your ear. "And I'll never make you tea again after that."
"I was just kidding, honey."
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You finished the bath between the soft sound of water and kisses. You dried his hair when you left the bathroom, applied oil essence to his bruises and some cream, making sure to kiss every reddish mark afterwards, and helped him get dressed.
Lying in bed with his head against your chest and his voice sleepy, he murmured:
"Steven's gonna complain so much tomorrow."
"He will, but today was your day, he will understand."
He hummed in reply.
Silence took over the room as you stroked his hair to sleep.
"Baby?"
"Yeah?"
"You own me an orgasm." He said low, moving closer to you.
You chuckled. "I own us both an orgasm."
He smiled with his eyes closed.
"You could have had one if you'd let me eat you out."
You smiled. That bastard, you thought.
"Alright, go to sleep. Steven has to work tomorrow."
Silence was present again, only the quiet noise of your breathing filled the dark room. When you thought Marc was asleep, he whispered sleepily and quietly:
"I love you."
You then smiled and kissed his forehead once more, already drifting to sleep.
"I love you too."
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Tagging some people who interected on my post about the sub!moonboys. Let me know if you want me to not tag you anymore.
then he kisses you for real, shuffling you back towards the wall. your arms loop around his neck, pulling him further into your space, and you taste like strawberry ice cream, a hint of vanilla. the weight of the gun, 3d printed to be untraceable, is devastatingly heavy from where it's tucked into the back of his jeans. just—just five more minutes, let me live this dream, he thinks.
our very own benjamin leonard poindexter gets hired to take you out 👀 things don't go as planned, however...
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Categories: F/M
Characters: Lester | Benjamin "Dex" Poindexter
Relationships: Lester | Benjamin "Dex" Poindexter/Reader
Additional Tags: Undercover, Secret Identity, Love Confessions, ish., Threats of Violence, Attempted Murder, Awkward Boners, ish. (2), Implied Sexual Content, Fade to Black, Pathetic Dex, Kissing, Making Out, Established Relationship, Female Reader-Insert, Originally Posted on Tumblr, No Use of Y/N for Reader-Insert
Set in the Pretty Privilege universe but not essential to that story's plot. Can be read standalone.
+++
The sounds of your own whimpers are what pulls you out of your nightmare.
Darkness surrounds you like a weighted blanket as you gasp for air in an effort to calm yourself down. You jump and let out a hushed shriek when something soft and wet nudges your hand and your fear is quickly replaced by remorse as it was only Penny trying to comfort you. Your fitful sleep must’ve roused her, and she ambled over to you with the promise of affection now that you were awake. Her soft fur grounds you and you gift her with firm pets just the way she likes it, rubbing under her jaw as she sheds into your duvet.
Using your t-shirt you wipe away the sweat that pooled in between the valley of your breasts and at the edge of your hairline and eventually you turn on the light, the shadows of your bedroom providing little relief. When the light flickers on your bedroom is still your bedroom, neat and tidy just how you like it, and Penny has begun to purr at your side.
Flashes of images that felt so, terribly, real flicker through your memory when you try to lay back down again. Nightmares had always been a common occurrence. Your anxiety never took time off, not even during sleep, but this dream felt different from the others. A few themes that haunted the narrative of your bad dreams had stayed consistent throughout the years. Being swarmed by scary insects, suddenly being naked and exposed in a public space, and your least favorite being anything to do with your teeth moving or falling out. You were often alone in your dreams, maybe a familiar face from high school or work would play a side character but not usually anyone close.
This dream had Ben.
Most of the time your dreams would jump around, a string of consciousness that changed location and rules with the blink of an eye all while being controlled by a terrifying throughline. This one was so real. Ben was by your side as you took part in one of your favorite activities, evening outdoor time. His arm was resting over your shoulder, holding you to his side and shielding you from the misty March air that was thawing the city.
You can hear his steady breathing as you both sit in silence with one another. Birds chattering at your feet as you throw a wide arc of seed around your bench. A dove coos. Ben shifts next to you. It’s all so normal, peaceful even.
Then as you throw another arc you watch as blood spatters on the ground in front of you in place of seeds.
Your chest tightens, that familiar pang of nerves that automatically makes your palms sweat and your breath ragged is eating your insides. Glancing down at your palms you see that your cut has reopened, skin slick with red as warm blood gushes out of you. You go to turn to Ben but he’s gone and a gust of wind slaps you in the face and makes you gasp for air.
Something knocks you over and you land in the stone gravel next to the bench and it bites into your knees as a heavy weight pins you down and flips you over. It’s Ben, with a disturbing grin plastered on his face that looks distorted. Shadows on his face make the angles look sharper, scarier, and his eyes practically glow with malice.
“Worthless.” He snarls as you try to fight his grip but it’s no use, he has always been stronger than you and it was something you found attractive and intimidating. Ben smiles again and this time his teeth are jagged and bloody and you’re reminded of the tiger shark documentary you watched with him on Halloween.
Your throat is too tight to scream and you watch as Ben’s jaw unhinges in a disturbing way that almost makes you feel sick. Just before he can rip your throat out you get your hand free and instead of grabbing a fistful of his jacket there’s a knife in your grip. With one swift motion you plunge it into his chest and shove him off of you.
But when Ben collapses next to you he’s not the monster that he was a few seconds ago, he's his normal and pretty self. A gargled cough bubbles up and out of his mouth and so does crimson colored blood that splatters back onto his face and stains his blond hair. You rush to his side crying as he stares back at you with empty eyes. You woke up just as he heaved his last breath.
It’s almost four o’clock in the morning and you want to fall back asleep but you’re too scared. The dream left you disturbed, hands shaking as you recalled how detailed it was, terrified of what it could signify. You wanted Ben but also didn’t, conflicted because not only were you frightened of your own actions in the dream but the disturbing images of Ben.
Ben would never hurt you. You know that. Often you wonder if he would hurt someone else for you, but never you. So why conjure up such evil images of the one person who would do anything for you? You recall the night that you looked into Ben’s medicine cabinet and chastise yourself for how negative your brain could be. Unwanted thoughts pestering you until it felt like a nagging hum was permeating your skull.
After ten more minutes of stroking Penny and trying to regulate your breathing you eventually settle back under the covers and try to catch at least a little more sleep until you have to get ready for work. This time you leave your light on.
By morning you don’t feel any better, instead feel agitated from your lack of sleep and relentlessly scared of your own imagination. Ben had texted you while you were still asleep, he normally gets up before you so he can work out before going into the office.
Good morning. I love you. Please let me know when you get to work.
It was the same text he had sent you every morning, without fail, and this time it left you feeling uncomfortable instead of soothed. You go through the motions of your routine with a sluggish pace, leaving your apartment with barely enough time to catch your train and the whole ride you sit in silence as you try to keep yourself grounded to reality. The flash of someone’s red shirt reminds you of the blood that trickled out of Ben’s mouth making you almost miss your stop. Thirty minutes after arriving at work and getting settled at your desk you finally text Ben back.
At work. Love you too.
Ben kept his messages concise but you had the tendency to double or trickle text, telling him about how you slept or showing off your outfit of the day. Instead you kept it short, too scared to say anything else because all you could think about was the blood seeping from his ragged gums when he was a monster and the way you hurt him with no hesitation.
He texted you again around lunch time letting you know he wouldn’t be able to stop by. It was raining outside anyways, leaving you unable to sit in your usual spot so instead you ate your lunch slowly at your desk. The food tasted like ash in your mouth, too guilty to enjoy it, and went back to work early. You didn’t respond to him, something you never did, and he seemed to take notice.
Are you okay?
Where are you?
Did I do something wrong?
You were working on creating an invoice when your phone buzzed three times in quick concession. Glancing at it you saw the panicked messages from your boyfriend which automatically made you feel guilty as you pictured his flushed face and the way he would’ve stuttered through those sentences if he had said them aloud to you. With furrowed brows and a sympathetic frown you manage to text him back.
I’m okay, I’m sorry. I’m still at work but I don’t feel very good. I slept poorly. I’m sorry.
Not even a full second after you send the response the text bubble pops up showing that Ben is already crafting a text back. You hope he isn’t too worried even though you already know that he is, probably spiraling as he recalled his last interaction with you, picking every second apart trying to figure out what he did to make you upset. Your heart breaks as you remember the previous evening which in all truth was lovely. Ben cooked, you did the dishes together, you watched the new documentary Combat Obscura because Dex was interested in it and he walked you back to your apartment and tucked you into bed. A normal Wednesday night filled with hand holding and soft smiles.
You slept badly?
Are you getting sick?
Can I come over after work?
I love you.
He asks like he always does even though you never say no and don’t already expect him to spend time with you after you get off. The concern is reassuring though, lessening the scary picture of Ben that you conjured up and making your guilt even worse.
I don’t think I’m getting sick, just bad dreams. I’ll tell you more about it when I see you later. I love you too.
You set your phone back down and Ben doesn’t text you for the rest of the day until you’re already back at your apartment and making dinner for the two of you. I’ll be over in fifteen. It reads, meaning he’s already back at his place and about to take a shower. Just as you set aside his portion of the vegetable stew you made for dinner he quietly lets himself into your apartment dressed in a worn looking quarter zip and joggers.
He looks freshly scolded, lips pulled into a straight, tight line and hands clenched at his sides as he approaches you. You think that you probably don’t look any better, still in your rumpled work clothes and sporting dark under eye circles from your lack of sleep. Standing in front of the stove you try to ignore the gnawing in your chest, hating yourself for making your boyfriend look like a kicked puppy.
“Hi baby.” You say tiredly, handing him his bowl and his spoon because you keep picturing his pale face covered in his own blood all because of your doing. It’s probably the longest you’ve ever gone without greeting him with at least a hug but your hands are shaking and the sound of the knife breaking through his skin is still so vivid.
“What did I do?” Ben’s voice is teetering on the edge of firm mixed with sadness. Like he’s barely holding on but also begging for a real answer from you. Both of you are still standing in your kitchen and you wince at the tone, knowing that if you look back up at him he will probably be on the verge of tears.
“Shit, I’m sorry.” And you hate the way your own voice sounds, broken and shaky and out of the corner of your eye you see Ben set his bowl down immediately and feel his hands rest firmly on your upper arms. Without hesitation you collapse into him, pushing your face into his chest and listen to his rapid heartbeat as he lets out a long breath. Warm fingers rub against the small of your back, soothing the tension that had been pestering you all day.
“What happened?” His voice sounds less frantic now that you’re touching him, at least reassuring him that he didn’t do anything wrong but still frustrated that he doesn’t know how to fix whatever is going on with you.
“I, uh,” you stammer, wrapping your arms around him and reveling in the soft fabric of his pull over and the way it contrasts with the firm muscle underneath, “I’m really, really sorry. I didn’t mean to freak you out or anything. I just had a nasty nightmare last night and I think it left me shaken all day. I didn’t mean to.” The sound of your voice makes you cringe, all high pitched and warbled as you try to stay in control of yourself. Crying is so embarrassing and any time you do it in front of Ben it leaves you mortified.
“Shh,” Ben soothes, pushing your body into his even further. You think if he could he would try to slide his fingers underneath your skin in an effort to be closer to you. He’s always looking for more contact. “That sounds hard. Really, really hard. I’m sorry baby, but I’m here now.”
His heart begins to settle and yours does too and even though the soup is getting cold on the counter you pay it no mind because Ben’s body wash is flooding your nose and keeping you sane. Peppermint and the remnants of his cologne that linger on his skin even though he washes it off every evening, the scent must be embedded into the fabric of his clothing. Eventually he moves you to your couch and gets you settled under one of the knit blankets you keep around your apartment. He reheats your dinner for you and the two of you eat in silence.
After, he wordlessly cleans up for you while you take a much needed shower where you stand under the faucet soaking up the warmth and listen as Ben moves around in your kitchen boxing up leftovers and soaking the pot you used. Once he’s finished he sits on the toilet seat quietly, sharing the space with you as you rinse the suds out of your hair and turn the water off.
It’s still drizzling outside so you can’t feed your friends, everyone else is taking shelter from the dreary weather too. Plus, it’s still dark, and the idea of sitting in the shadows reminds you of how you felt in the early hours of the morning when you were alone and attempting to calm down. Instead, Ben rubs lotion into your skin leaving you soft and dewy and the two of you walk hand-in-hand to the mailroom and take the stairs all the way back up.
“I’m gonna drop this off but when I get back can I read tonight?” Ben asks as you step out of the stairwell. It’s the first words either of you have said in the past hour but the silence was far from uncomfortable. Ben is good at knowing when you don’t feel like talking, he enjoys quiet just as much as you do and it reminds you of how much you love him. The entire time he kept you company you hadn’t recalled your nightmare, not even once. The monstrous Ben felt more like a distant memory with each passing second and your regret was fading.
“Yes please.” You respond with a smile, feeling brave enough to reach up and kiss him on the temple which makes the tips of his ears flush pink. When he gets back to your apartment he ushers you to your room where the two of you curl up under the sheets and he pulls out the copy of American Gods that you had started earlier in the week.
“You know I have bad dreams all the time, right?” Ben asks as he rifles through the pages of the book to where you left off. You looked up at him from where you had been resting your head on his shoulder, he had taken off his pull over when he arrived back to your apartment and was only in a white singlet that allowed you to feel his smooth, warm skin.
“I thought you said you didn’t dream because you took sleeping medication.” Which was true, Ben had an Ambien prescription that he took most nights because without it he wouldn’t sleep. A few months into dating he mentioned how bad his insomnia used to be and how it had gotten worse overseas. He mentioned how he missed dreaming.
“I don’t dream most nights, but sometimes I do. When I do it’s usually pretty bad. I’ve always been prone to nightmares.” He says like it’s casual information that he’s offering up. “I’ve thought up some pretty ugly stuff.”
The admission makes your eyes water and the knot that had been tightening in your chest all day suddenly unraveled. Wordlessly, you moved to hug him fiercely and he immediately reciprocated and let his fingers slip under the hem of your shirt so he could greedily feel the bare skin of your back.
“I get them all the time.” You share, pressing your eye sockets into the meat of his shoulder in an effort to hold back tears. “But last night you were in it and it left me really scared I guess. You were you then you weren’t, instead you were something else and I got scared and lashed out and then I-”
Your breath hitched at the last sentence and Ben squeezed you tighter signalling that he understood what was coming next. Ben probably understood more than anyone else what you were going to say and instead of being scared by it he only offered comfort in the form of his touch. He pressed three soft kisses into your temple and you shuddered at the feeling of relief it leant you.
“It just really freaked me out and I felt so much shame all day. I don’t want you to think you did anything wrong, you could never do wrong by me.” You pull away from him so you can rub his cheek with your palm and Ben chases the touch. Looking up at you with gorgeous, hazel eyes he places a warm kiss onto your palm. “I love you Ben.” His eyes flutter shut at the reminder.
“I love you too sweetheart.” He murmurs. “Can I stay the night? Just to make sure you sleep okay? You never get nightmares when we’re together and maybe it will help.” He asks in a way that sounds like he’s trying to mask how eager he is. You nod your head and settle back next to him as he opens to the page again and begins reading in his low voice.
You’re lulled to sleep by the way Ben pronounces consonants and in the middle of the night you wake up not from a bad dream but because Ben had shifted in his spot, draping a heavy arm around your shoulders. Your neck is a little stiff from how your head is resting on his chest but you let it be, allowing yourself to fall back asleep while listening to the soft sounds of your boyfriend's breathing. Still alive, still safe.
+++
I still have a longer fic in the works but I didn't want to starve anyone until then. Enjoy this little one while i finish the other, it was inspired by me having a terrible nightmare the other night lol.
dex who gets jealous long before he realizes that's what he's feeling. at first he just notices little things - how often that person talks to you, how close they stand, how easily they make you laugh. the irritation builds quietly until one day he's staring holes through someone across the room and finally understands what's wrong.
dex who becomes frighteningly observant when he's jealous. he notices every glance sent your way, every lingering touch, every joke that gets a smile out of you. while everyone else is enjoying the conversation, he's cataloging every detail without even trying.
dex who keeps telling himself she's allowed to have friends. she's allowed to talk to people. stop it. stop it. stop it. because he knows his feelings aren't rational. he knows you haven't done anything wrong. the problem is that knowing doesn't make the feeling disappear.
dex who pretends not to care. he'll sit there with a perfectly neutral expression while internally spiraling over the fact that you're paying attention to somebody else. if you ask what's wrong, he'll immediately say, "nothing." meanwhile his jaw is tight enough to crack a tooth.
dex who starts hovering around you whenever someone is making him jealous. suddenly he's standing beside you. sitting next to you. finding reasons to insert himself into every conversation. not because he's trying to be subtle - because he genuinely doesn't realize how obvious he's being.
dex who absolutely hates how possessive jealousy makes him feel. he knows it isn't rational. he knows you aren't doing anything wrong. but logic has never been particularly effective at quieting his emotions once they start spiraling.
dex who immediately seeks reassurance afterward without directly asking for it. he'll casually ask, "you like talking to him?" or "you two seem close." as if he's simply making conversation instead of desperately trying to gauge where he stands.
dex who looks completely calm on the outside while panic builds underneath his skin. because losing you isn't just another breakup in his mind. losing you feels like losing the one thing that finally made life feel stable.
dex who melts the second you choose him. one hand in his. one kiss on his cheek. one simple reminder that he's the person you want. suddenly all the tension leaves his body at once.
dex who apologizes after heated arguments because he can see the guilt written all over your face. "I know you didn't do anything wrong." and he means it. he knows the problem isn't you.
dex who notices every tiny change in your mood and always assumes it's his fault. if you're quieter than usual, he's wondering what he did wrong. if you're distracted, he's wondering if you're losing interest. if you take longer to answer a text, he's already fighting off worst-case scenarios.
dex who genuinely cannot understand why you chose him sometimes. you'll be sitting in his lap, playing with his hair, telling him you love him, and he'll just stare at you with this sad look in his eyes because he cannot comprehend how someone like you stays.
dex who hears you say, "aw, were you jealous?" and immediately groans, burying his face in your shoulder while you laugh. but he never actually pulls away, because if you're holding him like that, he doesn't mind being teased nearly as much as he claims.
dex who tries to maintain his serious expression while you're deliberately being affectionate with him in front of whoever made him jealous. your head on his shoulder. your fingers intertwined with his. meanwhile you're enjoying the way he slowly relaxes.
dex who becomes adorably clingy afterward without realizing it. suddenly you're sitting in his lap. suddenly he's holding your hand. suddenly he's finding excuses to touch you every few seconds.
dex who becomes embarrassingly soft whenever you cup his face and remind him, "there's nobody else I want." because underneath all the jealousy is just a man who loves deeply and worries too much.
you know he doesn't mean it. he never even did this before in his life, too occupied with the routine and his work schedule.
and stalking you does have consequences sometimes. that includes whenever you're getting ridiculously bold he would never expected you to be.
he doesn't see you that way. he didn't even think about it.
no. dex isn't a pervert even if his way of obsession seems creepy—if people ever noticed.
but right now? right now is the truth of his unjustified actions he doesn't want to acknowledge when you're there in your bedroom, sprawled out perfectly with your hand slipping in between your legs. it was slow at first as you try to edge yourself slowly until you get desperate.
he watched your every move without a single blink of an eye, laying down with his laptop resting against the pillow he made as a holder. one of his arms draped over his head, face scrunched as he watched you on his laptop.
it was wrong, creepy, and disgusting. but he had put multiple hidden cameras in your apartment, just in case something bad happened. (thats what a neighbor do right?)
and it wasn't his fault that it turned out like this.
very bad for his own.
but in his state at the moment? he's completely mesmerized by your every move, every arch. his hand working himself slippery, stroking his dick up and down slowly at first to match your pace. watching keenly like a predator looking for its prey.
"that's it... c'mon baby." he mutters to himself, eyes blinded by lust.
he brought his hand up to his mouth before spitting on his palm, bringing it back down to his dick.
"c'mon.." he grunts almost impatiently now, stroking it faster and squeezing the tip of his leaking mushroom.
"fuck, fuck-baby. just like that.."
his chest heavy when he sees you come first then stretching yourself in bed before sleep takes you over.
with that, he comes right away. his body twitching as he groans loud and raspy.
"shit-fuckkk—" he breathes hard, head hitting the headboard as he stares at the ceiling of his bedroom.
warnings?: oral (f receiving), fbi dex, short fic 😓.
“dex..please” you whimper.
“please..aw ugh dex i can’t-”
once again, you were ignored.
“can't believe how good you taste” dex mumbles, face buried between your legs, eyes closed.
he had been giving you head ever since he stepped foot in your bedroom after coming home from a mission.
not being able to see, talk or touch you had dex gnawing at his fist whenever he grew hard at the thought of you.
he was so lost in the taste of you, dex couldn’t tell you his own name if you asked him.
your thighs trembled underneath his hands, which were splayed wide, thumbs parting your lips to make way for his tongue.
one of your hands slide down his back to get lost in his greying blonde hair, the other grip the sheets for dear life while dex ate at your center with more enthusiasm than anyone else who has been in his position.
his light stubble burned the inside of your thighs and in the back of your mind, you hope you'll still feel it in the morning.
each time his warm tongue glides through your folds, dex releases a groan into your pussy. your face feels like it's on fire when you grind your hips onto his mouth, gasping and dragging in air like you're drowning.
every roll of your hips causes him to squeeze the meat of your thighs, and when you whimper his name, all desperate for him to stop, his tongue works even faster.
he licks and sucks and moans into your cunt, and when he slides two thick fingers inside of you with ease, you yelp out his name and dig your heel into his back.
“fuk,” he whispers when he pulls his face away to catch his breath.
“dex-” you gasp, his mouth suctions over your pussy again and you gasp. he sucks and flicks his tongue over your clit while his hand pumps steadily into you, curling his fingers, making you nearly scream if it isn't for how fast and hard you're breathing.
“dex- baby plea-”
you struggle to finish your sentence but it doesn't matter. dex knows, and hums between your thighs and works faster, devouring your cunt and dragging your orgasm out of you.
your body tenses and you cry out his name, but he still doesn't let up. not until he cleans up your release with your tongue.
you're seeing stars. you have to be covered in sweat and you probably look insane, with your hair and eyes all wild while you lay there, completely fucked out.
you fight to control your breathing but it is no use, the sight between your legs has you spell bound.
deep green eyes stared up at you, glassy and unfocused before finding you again. dex’s cheek rested against your leg as he struggled to steady his breathing, there was something dazed in his expression, something almost desperate, as though no matter how long he looked at you, it would never be enough.
dex climbs over to rest his body over yours and kisses you deeply.
his tongue licks into your mouth and all you can do is take it. your hands barely grab onto his elbow tha are caged around your face as he whines into your mouth.
the taste of you intoxicates your nose and tongue.
you close your eyes in bliss as dex slowly sucks on your mouth, his one hand coming to softly caress your cheek.
1. during sex, you had a habit of touching him anywhere you could reach. dex made you feel so so good, you needed ways to release energy before you could come.
one way or another your hands would always end him in his hair, long nails raking his scalp as you softly moaned out his name.
he really tried not to, but anytime he felt your hand brushing strands of hair from his forehead, or rake your fingers through his scalp, he would let out a soft whimper while shutting his eyes from pleasure.
2. for the most part, you and dex never faught. he was your puppy, you didn’t like something he would never do it again, you asked him to do something, you wouldn’t have to tell him twice.
but like all couples, some sort of argument would take place. your hands waved around in the air, aggravated sighs from your soft lips as you tried to get your point across.
meanwhile, dex sat and listened. hands folded, head down but eyes tilted up at you. he felt so good when you yelled at him, like he was worth fighting.
somewhere between cursing and pushing his shoulder, a whimper slips from his lips and then only would he calmly apologize and make you feel heard and understood.
3. he woke up from the ungodly sound of your alarm, you begged for 5 more minutes and he headed for the shower.
while reaching for his pain meds, he felt an odd sensation on his back. somewhere between sore and sharp aches.
he reached for his t-shirt and pulled it off.
turning so his back faces the mirror, he tilted his head and low and behold. he let out a pathetic whine.
light pink scratches littered all over his back. all different lengths and positions. the sigh brought a grin to his face. a boost of confidence filtered over him knowing he brought you so much pleasure, snippets of last night flashing in his eyes.
4. dex was very selfless, even with sexual activities. they always benefited you. so when you decided to suck his dick.
the soft pants of “thank you” couldn’t stop from his mouth as he massaged the nape of your neck. his eyes were shut tight, he couldn’t believe how good you felt.
as he felt himself reach his release, he couldn’t sum up the energy to speak. he was lost in how good you made him feel. dex couldn’t stop the desperate, needy whimper that echoed against the shower walls as you swallowed his release.
5. you didn’t like shopping, you dressed pretty simple and often wore the same pieces styled differently.
so when dex visits your apartment for the first time and sneaks in your closet. the whimper that he tried to suppress eventually came out when he slid a drawer open and found bras and panties of different styles and colors.
fuck, he couldn’t wait to see you in all of them, whether in bed or through your bedroom window.
6. some rare nights, dex was usually alone in bed. you were sometimes too busy to come over or just not in the city.
desperate dex would roll over to your side, take in the scent that you left on the pillow and hump the bed imaging it was you.
he would sob and whimper into the pillow just wishing you would show up.
7. oh he loved your tits, he loved everything about you but holy shit.
when he saw your hardened nipples through t-shirts or just naked in bed, his dick would twitch.
or when you bent infront of him to place a plate or a book, fucking whatever. and he saw your cleavage down your shirt. an incoherent whimper would slip his mouth as he would pull you down to his lap.
8. you complimented dex often, like…he was fucking perfect and you wouldn’t let him forget it.
sleepy after fucking or doing whatever together, your mouth would let loose and you would mumble heaps of stuff.
“god your back is..so broad”
“if you wanted, you could probably choke me with your biceps.
“baby, let me kiss your chin”
“i miss your fingers, dex” you once pouted, drunk as fuck.
every time he would be left speechless, often ending up a whimpering mess in your hold as you kissed down his abs or massaged his big hands in your smaller ones.
he couldn’t believe his luck as your soft body leaned over his whispering things you loved about him in his ear.
ᯓ SUMMARY │your boyfriend, dex, comes home covered in blood after violently slaughtering police officers at a nearby diner. he ignores your questions and holds you close like you’re the only thing keeping him steady.
ᯓ WARNINGS │blowjob, cowgirl, creampie, overstimulation, petnames, very detailed imagine of dex's chest and abs!!!│word count: 3k
you sat cross-legged on the couch, sunlight spilling through the windows and filling the apartment with a soft golden glow. though you hadn't turned a page in several minutes, a book was on your lap. every so often, your gaze drifted toward the front door before returning to the same line you'd been trying to read.
the afternoon seemed to drag on endlessly. you absentmindedly tapped your fingers against the book's cover, listening to the distant sounds of the city outside. dex had said he'd be back later, and while you weren't exactly worried, you couldn't deny the small spark of anticipation that settled in your chest whenever you imagined hearing the door open and seeing him walk inside.
the sound of a key turning in the lock immediately pulled your attention away from the book. before the door had even fully opened, you were already setting it aside and getting to your feet. a moment later, dex stepped inside, shrugging off his jacket as he closed the door behind him. his eyes found yours almost instantly, and something in his expression softened.
"finally," you muttered, unable to hide your smile.
you crossed the room in a few quick steps and wrapped your arms around him. for a second he seemed caught off guard, but then his arms slid around your waist, pulling you closer against him. the familiar warmth of him made the apartment feel complete again.
dex rested his chin lightly on top of your head and let out a quiet breath. "I missed you," he said, his voice lower than usual.
a smile tugged at your lips as you held onto him. "you were only gone a few hours."
"still," he replied, giving you a small squeeze. "missed you anyway." for a rare moment, he didn't seem eager to let go, content to stand there with you in the middle of the apartment as the afternoon sunlight streamed through the windows.
as you pulled back slightly, your smile faded. now that you were looking at him properly, he didn't seem quite as put together as he usually did. there was a faint stain on the sleeve of his jacket, dark against the fabric, and a small scrape near his knuckles that definitely hadn't been there earlier. his hair was a little messier than usual.
your brows furrowed. "dex?"
"hmm?" he looked down at you.
"what happened?" your eyes flicked to the mark on his sleeve. "are you hurt?"
for a moment, his expression became unreadable. then he glanced away and shrugged out of his jacket as if it were nothing. "forget about it."
"dex-"
"I'm fine," he interrupted calmly, setting the jacket aside. when he looked back at you, his face had already smoothed into something reassuring. "don't worry about it." he reached out and brushed a hand against your arm, gently steering your attention away from the subject.
you studied him for a long second, not fully convinced - but dex always had that effect. the way he could look at you like everything was okay, even when it clearly wasn’t. still, you didn’t push. instead, without warning, you rose onto your toes and kissed him.
it started soft - just your lips meeting his. but the second he responded with a quiet hum in his throat and his hands slid to your hips, it deepened fast. his mouth moved against yours with careful pressure at first.
then one hand crept up to cradle the back of your neck and suddenly he was kissing deeper: warm breath mingling between open mouths; teeth catching lightly on lower lips before soothing again with slow licks.
your fingers twisted into the fabric of his tight shirt - still tucked neatly under his belt and tugged, pulling him closer like you couldn’t stand even an inch of space between you. dex made another soft sound against your mouth and this time gave in completely.
dex’s lips finally left yours when he felt your hands playing with his shirt. he broke the kiss just enough to tilt his head back slightly, giving you room, his chest rising fast beneath the bloody fabric.
you worked quickly, fingers unsteady but determined. you pulled it over his head, letting it fall behind him onto the floor.
the sunlight caught every ridge of muscle across his torso - broad shoulders tapering down into a chest covered in scars. you noticed that thin trail of hair leading downward under his waistband - but what stood out most were his abs.
perfectly defined - a six-pack, hard lines forming each defined rectangle; deep grooves between them where shadows pooled from angled light; all leading naturally to that strong V-shape at hips disappearing into pants still zipped tightly around narrow waist.
without thinking twice, your palms flattened against him immediately - fingers splaying wide over warm skin as they traced upward along sculpted muscle.
his hands slid up your back beneath the loose cotton sweater you’d thrown on earlier, palms warm through the thin material. when they found bare skin at your waist, a shiver ran through both of you. he noticed you weren't wearing anything underneath.
"were you waitin' for me, baby?" he let out a breathy chuckle against your lips. another messy kiss - less controlled, more urgent. lips parted wider; breaths came faster.
your hands roamed over his bare chest - thumbs brushing the hard lines of his abs, feeling how firm and warm they were under your touch. you leaned in again, but this time didn’t go for his mouth. instead, your lips found the side of dex’s neck - softly plantinh a light kiss just below his jawline, slow trail down along the column of his throat where you could feel him swallow hard as your breath ghosted over sensitive skin there. dex tensed slightly - not from discomfort but intensity. he wasn't used to being kissed like this.
his ears burned red before anything else even happened - the tips turning pink fast as nervous energy buzzed through him despite how much he was enjoying it. he stayed very still otherwise, barely breathing too loud, just letting you explore while fingers curled slightly against your arms.
your lips kept descending - lower, lower - until they reached the top of dex’s chest. you kissed him there, right over his collarbone first, slow and lingering, then along the slope where shoulder met pec.
each kiss was soft but deliberate - a warm press of your mouth that left behind a faint flush on his skin. dex exhaled shakily as more kisses rained down. when you finally reached his nipples, he actually flinched and sucked in a quiet breath through clenched teeth.
they were small and flat normally under fabric, but now exposed to air - each one tightened instantly into hard little peaks at attention. you didn’t hesitate; gently circling one with your tongue before pressing an open-mouthed kiss right over it - testing how he’d react.
dex's hands shot up almost unconsciously. fingers tangling lightly in your hair like he couldn't decide whether to pull you closer or push away because this felt too much all at once. "careful, sweetheart" he warned.
before things went any further, your hands roamed back up dex’s torso - this time with purpose. you cupped his chest firmly, thumbs brushing over the tight muscle there. his chest was broad, lean and bulky.
and then you squeezed again not rough but definite, palms pressing into warm skin like you were memorizing the shape of him. dex exhaled sharply through his nose; low groan leaving his lips before he could stop it.
his nipples stayed peaked from earlier attention and now as your fingers drifted closer to them, they stiffened even more. he bit lightly on bottom lip to keep quiet, trying not move too much or react obviously but failing slightly because damn he felt good.
you leaned down and pressed another kiss right over his heart - then looked up at him through your lashes, a small smile playing on your lips.
"you're so hot," you murmured, voice low and sincere.
dex blinked. for someone who usually kept his emotions locked tight, this kind of direct affection undid him every time. he didn’t know how to respond with words - so instead, the corners of his mouth twitched into something flustered but undeniably pleased.
"shut up," without thinking, dex tilted forward suddenly - closing distance fast. dex’s lips crashed into yours, sudden, hungry, and messy with emotion. no grace or technique this time; just raw need. his hands flew up to cradle your face as he kissed you hard - mouth warm and slightly desperate like he’d been holding back all afternoon.
his thumbs brushed your cheekbones while the kiss deepened: tongues meeting again almost instantly; teeth clashing once before adjusting angles to fit better.
then you continued trailing kisses back down dex’s chest, slow, worshipful, each one softer than the last. over his sternum, across abs, lower as your eyes flicked up to meet his as you hovered near the waistband of his pants.
dex stared down at you - dark eyes wide and unblinking. lips slightly parted; chest rising fast under your gaze. no teasing smirk or cool remark this time, just pure anticipation burning in that quiet intensity he always carried.
then without breaking eye contact, you slowly sank to your knees on the floor. you hooked your fingers into the waistband of dex’s trousers and so slowly pushed them down.
fabric slid over his hips, then thighs - revealing more of that toned body beneath: lean legs covered in faint hair, strong calves. everything perfectly proportioned.
now he was just in boxers, a simple black pair hugging narrow waist and you could see everything: how defined and hard he was; how every muscle moved when he breathed.
you slowly tugged the fabric down as the boxers slipped past his thighs - now dex was fully exposed. sunlight spilled over him, painting golden streaks across pale skin. he didn’t flinch or cover himself - just stood there, completely bare from the waist down now, breathing a little faster than normal.
the moment your lips made contact to his tip, dex’s fingers immediately tangled rough and firm as he needed something to hold onto as the sensation overwhelmed him completely. his breath came out in a shaky exhale above you; head tilting back slightly without realizing it while his hips gave the tiniest involuntary twitch forward.
"fuck" he cursed. you looked up at him with eyes filled with lust as dex stared down at you hypnotized.
you took him deeper then, warm mouth working carefully and that’s when his grip tightened just a little: not pushing or forcing yet, just holding, knuckles whitening where they curled against strands of your hair.
every slow suck drew another response from him: shallow breaths turning uneven; thighs tensing under smooth skin; pulse hammering wildly at temples and wrists both.
you kept going - mouth warm and wet around him, lips sliding with careful pressure. each movement was deliberate: soft suction pulling gently, tongue swirling just right in ways that made dex’s knees actually tremble for a second. you took your time, just savoring the taste of him.
you adjusted your rhythm - sucking a little deeper this time, then slowing to tease with just the tip of your tongue tracing along sensitive skin. dex’s whole body tensed. his thighs locked. his stomach muscles tightened like he was bracing for impact.
dex’s control snapped. his hands tightened in your hair, he gently guided your head forward. dex’s breath left him all at once like someone punched air from lungs. eyes fluttered shut for a second; back arched faintly without meaning to, hips forward.
"please don't stop." he whispered.
the next push was firmer, more deliberate. you didn’t resist - just adjusted, letting him guide while keeping pace. dex was taking deep breaths through parted lips above you; eyes shut tight; expression completely unraveled into pure pleasure.
"fuck, sweetheart"
his breathing turned ragged - short, quick inhales through his nose between clenched teeth. every muscle in dex’s body tensed: stomach tight; shoulders rigid; thighs trembling slightly where he stood on the floor.
he was close. so close it bordered on painful. each harsh rock of his hips became more urgent without meaning to be. rough and desperate, every instinct was screaming at him to chase this feeling harder.
dex’s head fell back slightly, eyes squeezing shut. his hips jerked forward, a choked sound escaped him - low, broken, his whole body tensing like a bowstring about to snap. eyes squeezed shut; mouth slightly open as the wave hit.
warmth flooded through him. the air was thick with quiet, heavy breathing as dex slowly came down - dazed, boneless, his chest rising and falling.
You stayed where you were on your knees in front of him, gently kissing the soft skin just above his hipbone as you took all of what remained from him into your mouth without hesitation. you swallowed without breaking eye contact.
you rose to your feet in one smooth motion, still warm from everything that just happened. before dex could even catch his breath fully, you grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him down into a hard kiss.
your lips were firm against his; demanding and possessive as you backed him gently toward the couch without breaking contact. one hand stayed fisted on his bicep while the other slid up to cup his jaw, tilting it so you could deepen the kiss further. tongues tangled messily, sloppy with passion.
dex felt it the shift in your body heat as you straddled him. the way you pressed down against his bare thighs with unmistakable need. his breath hitched mid-kiss. his hands flew to your hips now, big palms spanning nearly all of them and he gripped tight as you grinded.
a low groan rumbled from his chest into the kiss; one hand slid up under fabric while his hips jerked upward slightly to meet yours better - helping create friction where you needed it most.
dex didn’t hesitate. in one smooth motion, his hands slid down to your waist - fingers hooking under the edge of your panties and pushed them aside just enough.
then he lifted you slightly, helping guide you into position as you settled over him again, this time with no layers of clothes left. both of you gasped.
"oh my god," your head and eyes rolled backwards, your body arching into him. a quiet moan slipped from him, eyes fluttering shut at sensation, arms tightening around your back.
you started moving fast - no gentle rocking. no slow rhythm. just desperately riding him hard: hips lifting and dropping with purpose, each motion sharp and deliberate as you chased your own pleasure.
"yeah, use me, pretty girl, "dex’s head fell back against the couch instantly, "fuck- just like that" eyes wide for a split second before squeezing shut again from sheer overstimulation.
his hands locked onto your waist with firm grip and helped lifting you up and down. meeting every downward grind with an upward thrust of his hips, matching your pace despite how much sensation was flooding through him.
a quiet string of shaky breaths left his lips between clenched teeth; jaw tight from focusing on keeping up. the couch creaked faintly under your movements.
each time you came down, dex’s breath hitched audibly; each rise had him gripping tighter like he needed to feel you there, real and close. his abs flexed with every upward push of hips to meet yours.
"can't last any longer, sweetheart" the way his body responded betrayed him, pulse racing. pupils blown wide, staring at your tits going up and down aggressively.
"dex, dex, dex, fuuuck, I'm close"you could feel it building. tight coil of pleasure winding higher and higher with every movement. without warning your body tensed, eyes fluttering shut, hips stuttering for half a second before your walls fluttered around him.
wave crashed over you hard, pleasure so intense it almost hurt but in the best way possible. your muscles locked; fingers dug into dex’s shoulders as everything focused on that single point of overwhelming sensation.
dex felt his own control snap again too, even after cumming once already, the rhythm and heat from your climax pushed him right to edge. and a few seconds later he was falling apart beneath you: back arching slightly off couch as release hit him fast and fierce despite exhaustion creeping in at edges.
dex came with a quiet, shuddering breath, just a deep exhale as his body went completely pliant beneath you. warmth spread between you both, intimate and close as he stayed buried inside for those long, lazy seconds after, not pulling away.
your arms wrapped around his shoulders; face nuzzling into the crook of his neck where skin was warm and sweaty. his cock slowly softened inside you as he pressed soft kisses along your shoulder.
you leaned in and kissed him, soft and slow this time. lips met gently; a quiet press of warmth that lingered before pulling back slightly then doing it again like you couldn’t stop kissing him.
his hand moved slowly along your side as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “you’re too good to me, y’know that?” he murmured. his grip tightened slightly, protective and warm. “don’t know how I got so lucky.”
you smiled against him, and he let out a quiet laugh before resting his cheek on your hair. “seriously,” he said softly, his voice gentler than usual. he pulled you even closer, content just to sit there with you in his arms.
everyone say thank you @bullseyesxgirl for this amazing idea!!!!
warnings: a tad bit angsty? dex being dex, unhealthy/toxic relationship dynamics, mentions of murder
word count: 1.0k
a/n: this is lowkey self-indulgent but whatever, idk how i keep romanticizing all the red flags of this twink :3
dex knows you can never stay mad at him for too long. he knows it all too well. and he absolutely adores abusing that power over you.
today, for instance, you came home from work utterly drained.
a headache was already blooming viciously behind your eyes, and all you wanted was to collapse onto your bed and become one with the sheets.
you barely trudged up the apartment stairs before the front door was already swinging open: dex had been listening for the exact rhythm of your footsteps from blocks away.
you let out a quiet, heavy sigh as you slipped inside, the sharp *click* of the lock echoing as dex shut the door firmly behind you.
you slung your bag over a kitchen chair, mindlessly kicking off your shoes as you headed straight for the bedroom.
dex was right on your heels, shadowing your every move like a hyper-fixated puppy who couldn’t wait to absorb your voice, your day, your attention— any scrape you were willing to give really. but you just didn’t have it in you right now.
the problem with loving benjamin poindexter was that personal space and privacy simply didn’t exist. his bruised, frantic mind couldn't tell the difference between you being exhausted and you wanting to leave him.
to him, silence meant abandonment. it was all the same threat.
the moment he registered your cold quiet and the way your body collapsed onto the mattress, he was spiraling, hovering over you instantly.
“what happened? is everything okay? did i do something wrong?”
“dex,” you groaned into the plush safety of your pillow, fingers blindly rubbing at your throbbing temples. “please. just not right now.”
“did something happen at the office? is it one of your coworkers?” he pressed, his voice tightening with a dangerous, protective edge. “is it that asshole jeremy? the one from last week?”
“dex.”
“you know i don’t even understand why you keep going to that place,” he ranted, his hands twitching. “i make more than enough money to support the both of us. you could just quit. you could stay here where it’s safe and we could—”
“benjamin!” you finally snapped, bolting upright because you couldn't take another second of his suffocating intensity. “get out.” you said calmly.
“what?” he scoffed, his face falling as he reached for your hand, but you swatted his fingers away. “no—i’m not leaving—”
“i said,” you repeated, each word sharp as a razor, “get out.”
he looked profoundly offended, half seething with dark anger and half resembling a kicked puppy.
under any other circumstances, the whiplash would have been funny, but you were too hollowed out by fatigue to care.
you watched the cogs grinding behind his eyes, mulling over his options, before he finally came to a stubbornly defiant conclusion.
“no.” he stated, perfectly calm.
“what? what do you mean no—” but before you could lash out, his heavy frame shifted.
he caught your shoulders, pulling you back down onto the mattress with him until the two of you were lying flat on your backs, side by side.
“benjamin, i swear to god…” you sighed, your energy completely evaporating.
“no,” he countered, his eyes locked onto the ceiling. “you’re tired and you’re overwhelmed right now. it’s fine. i get it. i understand if you don’t want to talk to me. but i am not leaving you alone.”
you opened your mouth to fight him on it, but the sheer weight of your exhaustion finally won.
your limbs went limp against the sheets. there was no winning against his fixation anyway. he heard you mumble a weak insult under your breath— something about him being entirely unhinged— but he chose to ignore it.
he knew you didn’t truly mean it. or rather, he knew you loved him regardless.
thirty minutes ticked by in total silence.
as the initial heat of your headache settled into a dull throb, the room grew completely still.
dex lay beside you like a statue, barely even shifting his weight against the mattress. he was hyper-aware of your mood, purposely leaving a strict ten centimeters of empty space between your bodies so he wouldn't push your boundaries any further.
eventually, after swallowing down the last remnants of your stubborn pride, you slowly rolled onto your side to face him.
“dex,” you murmured, your expression softening in the dim light.
“yeah?” he answered instantly, propping himself up on one elbow to look down at you expectantly. you could see his fingers twitching, practically aching to touch you, but he forced himself to stay back.
“’m sorry,” you muttered into the space between you, even though you both knew you hadn’t done anything wrong.
“it’s fine,” he breathed out, the immense tension finally leaving his shoulders.
he closed the distance, leaning down to press a lingering, reverent kiss into the crown of your head, inhaling your familiar scent.
i knew you weren't really mad at me, he wanted to say, but he knew better than to push his luck while he was still on thin ice.
“can you even believe what happened today, though?” you started, the dam finally breaking as you began to unpack the messy emotions of your shift.
you far too eager to overlook the toxic reality of him refusing to give you space, wrapping yourself in the comfort of his obsession instead.
but dex didn’t care about healthy.
he just leaned in, drinking in every single word you offered him.
he listened with a terrifying intensity, nodding along and dropping quiet, sharp suggestions—like offering to eliminate the manager who had stressed you out, swearing he would make it look like a tragic accident.
you just let out a weak huff of laughter, telling him not to bother, that it wasn’t worth the trouble.
but you knew the truth. he absolutely would do it.
he’d put in the work. for you.
he lay there, letting you bleed all your worries out onto him until the room felt heavy with it.
after all, the two of you shared a bed, an apartment, and a twisted sort of life. why would you ever try to hide anything from him?
Prompt: I know you haven’t really written for Dex but could you maybe try something where the reader also works for the FBI and has a crush on Dex but is good at overplaying it but at a celebration of a closed case or something like that you’re letting it slip to colleagues and from there on they are teasing Dex in a subtle way but it takes a while till he is getting it. you can decide how he’s going to react. maybe you can make something out of that, would def be cool!
Prompter: Anonymous
First real try for Dex, so I hope you like it!
Tags are at the bottom. Let me know if you would like to be added to one of my tag lists!
Imagine taking Dex’s virginity… he’d lie about it and say he’s done this before but he’s cumming within seconds, shooting thick ropes of cum into you. He’s whining and mumbling a string of “sorry”s while he hides his head in your shoulders from the shame.
You rub the back of his head and kiss his forehead telling him it’s ok. “You’ll do better for me next time, won’t you?”
He emerges from the nook of your shoulder, “th-there’s gonna be a- a next time?” He asks between sniffles, his dick perking up immediately.
Just friends...right? ~ Benjamin 'Dex' Poindexter x Fem!Reader
☆゙ Word Count: 11.2k
☆゙ Content: After Born Again s2, Dex is with the CIA. Reader is his handler. He's basically trying to make more friends. Fluff. Dex is clearly a cat guy. Friends to lovers. Smut. Dry humping. Vaginal Fingering. Minors DNI!
☆゙ A/N: Been going through imposter syndrome every time I write Dex's dialogue. Please enjoy!
3. 2. 1...and the mission is done.
The knife sticks into the target’s skull real good, giving Dex a second to pull it out and wipe the blood on his black pants. Red pools around the head, drawn to make a larger pool in the center of the warehouse.
“Dexy, my boy! Is it done?”
“Yeah…it's done.” He says to Mr. Charles, sliding each knife back in their harnesses.
One, two, three, four, five wait…where's six? The missing knife sticks out from a tire of a military truck, right where a dead rogue officer's body lay.
Dex effortlessly slides the weapon back where it belongs. “I lost a knife. Need to get a new one.”
“Well, you know where to go. Your girl should be up by now.”
“She’s…not my girl.”
“Ah, you know what I mean Bullsey. We got you one of the best handlers in the team, you can call her whatever you want.”
He grimaces, torn between the nickname and the idea that you’re his. It’s only been a month since starting this job. Working with the CIA and under the one and only Valentina De Fontaine has its perks. He’s able to get a stable income for killing “bad” guys. A place he can call home again without eliminating someone to get it.
As long as he took his meds.
Valentina insisted after making sure he could still do his job medicated. Dex didn’t complain. He finally has what he wanted back so desperately. It’s just now it’s under his own conditions. For the most part.
Now all Dex needs is camaraderie.
Something similar to what he had with Ray back in his FBI days. Hopefully, without the killing him part.
“You’ll know when your next assignment is.” Is the last thing Dex hears before communication goes silent. He gets ready to text you about the knife when a message beats him to it.
‘I heard you need a new knife.’
‘Yeah. Lost one during the mission.’
‘I got you.’
That’s it. No other follow-up message, asking him about his mission. You are all business with hardly any talk.
It’s not like you’re difficult to deal with. When Dex joined the team, everyone joked about how easy it was to talk to you behind the professional barrier you put up. Like you want to leave work and everyone else in it when you go home each day.
Dex didn’t see a problem with that. He’s the same way. Well, was. He’s trying not to make the same mistakes as he did back in the FBI. He had people to talk to, but hardly anyone was in his corner. He didn’t want it to happen again. You’re one of the closest people he can make that effort with.
After a sixteen-hour flight and a forty-minute drive because he wanted to stop and get breakfast, he made his way to your office. Waving to the other team members, his “squad”. Just to provide support if he needs it. Dex hands them a bag filled with breakfast sandwiches and a tray of coffee.
“Hey, wait a minute.” Dex’s coworker, Alana, notices the separate bag and iced coffee with whipped cream and caramel drizzle, “Who’s that for?”
“Someone more important than you guys.” He snorts at the collective groans.
“Yeah sure, butter up the handler.” Jason says, taking a bite out of his sandwich.
Dex rolls his eyes, “So, what I’m hearing is to not bring donuts next time.”
Everyone immediately shuts up, thanking him for the food before gorging on it.
You’re stationed far in the back, in a large, box-like area. Surrounded by glass. No one would be able to miss a single thing you’re doing. Maybe you like it that way.
Dex catches your eyes through your glasses, a small wave in his direction. Then you dart to the food in his arms and quickly stand up.
“Oh my god is that food?”
“Yeah. Iced coffee and a breakfast burrito, right? With extra salsa?”
You blink, thoroughly surprised. “Whoa, yeah. That’s…on point.”
You typically come in ten minutes early to set up. Eating your burrito while typing on your computer with one hand. So effortless. Seamless. Like you’ve done it a million times before, but with no one to pay attention to you.
He went on a whim that you’d missed breakfast, and he’d swoop in to save the day.
“I figured since it’s early and you probably haven’t eaten yet…”
“Didn’t you have a long flight? I know you’re tired.”
He shrugs. He is, but he wanted to score some brownie points first. Raise the imaginary scale in his head that shows your relationship with him is getting better. He likes to think he earns ten points because of it.
“Thank you.” You smile, “I didn’t eat yet. Was running late. Slept in.” Dex nods, watching you take a sip, gloss staining the straw when you give a thumbs-up, of approval. “I have your knife. I just need to report the missing one and you’re good to go.”
The new weapon is right next to your computer mouse. All in its sheath. Dex could come clean about not actually losing the knife, but he’s managed to make you happy today, so he doesn’t.
“I didn’t mean to lose it.”
“It happens.” You wave him away. “I had a feeling you might lose them due to your abilities. You can’t miss, but that doesn’t mean you can’t lose weapons. It’s…actually pretty funny when you think about it.”
He releases a short laugh to match your amusement. Ah, so him losing his knives is funny. Good to know. “I’ll try not to next time.”
Dex shifts once the new knife is in his possession. What else can he bring up to express he wants to expand on his relationship with you? The momentum from bringing breakfast lowers with each millisecond that passes. And this is the most he’s gotten with you besides going over mission reports and providing him gear.
Was it really this hard back in the FBI?
“No troubles during the mission, right?” You ask, looking up from the screen.
“No.” He immediately clears his throat, “No problems. Target went down easy, everything…worked. Didn’t have to use my gun. Yet.”
“Nice.”
The corner of Dex’s lips twitches upwards, “I appreciate the high-quality gear. I don’t have to make do with kitchen knives anymore. They’re for cooking not for combat.”
“While I agree with you there, when you first came in, you were not using kitchen knives for weapons, Dex.”
“They felt like it.” You snicker and he knows five more points are added to the score. This is good. He should leave before he overstays his welcome. “I’ll see you around.”
Now to go home, shower, and rest.
It takes approximately fifteen minutes from headquarters to his apartment. The clean, sterilized scent relaxes his shoulders as he drops his duffel bag. Before he can get ready for a shower, his phone vibrates. A message from an unnamed user.
‘$10,000 is wired into your account.’
Life is great.
Dex needs to be careful. He knows everything can turn around in an instant if he didn’t dot his i’s and cross his t’s. Make sure the safety isn’t on before he lands the kill on his target.
Making friends is his own mission in a way. He watches them; their routine, what they like, don’t like, what they would die for, what they can’t live without. Anything to break down the walls and be receptive to change. Before he swoops in and makes the change for them.
With you, you’re very simple.
There’s not much on in any of your social media pages. Besides the occasional selfie, where you show where you went long after you’re gone. You’re a homebody, as people like to call it. You hardly go anywhere if it’s not work or home, as he’s seen for the past couple of days following you.
No, this wasn’t stalking.
During a meeting the day after, you commented that you didn’t like how dark it gets early. You make a weird face to lighten up the mood, but Dex knew from your bunched shoulders that you’re uncomfortable. He didn’t want his future friend to be uncomfortable.
It’s why he was watching you from afar, making sure you got home safely. There are no missions and he’s done all the bird watching and cat feeding in the world.
It’s what a good person would do.
He likes that you’re so simple. It’s what he has in common with you. You don’t need to go to ten different locations in two hours. It’s just you and your dog, Lady.
Dex gets the reference when the dog greets you at the door every day, tail breaking the speed of light. He’s never taken too kindly to dogs, but it’s something else to talk about - something to get you to open up.
He rehearses what to say to you on his way to work. Mr. Charles organizes routine marksmen tests, just to make sure the medication isn’t losing Dex’s sense of skill. He never likes the tests. It shows there’s still a hint of doubt from him. Whether it’s the CIA or Valentina herself. But it’s an excuse to see you again and start conversation.
In the weapons room, targets spawn across the makeshift scene. A park, similar to Central Park, where the bad guys are amongst the civilians. All decorated with a giant, red target. He needed to hit one with at least 95 to 100% accuracy.
Easy peasy.
“I was thinking about getting a pet.” Dex says after his knife hits the target dead on. A screen in front of him beeps 100%.
“Oh? You think having a pet is okay? Sometimes you’re gone for days…almost a week.”
“Yeah. I think it’s a good step to quality companionship. I even have a lonely neighbor so it would be good for her if she wanted to stop by and watch it if I’m gone.” Two knives hit the targets by the picture of a mother carrying her child. Two more beeps with 100%. “Besides, I didn’t have a pet back during my FBI days. Think it’s because I was too…I don’t know…”
“Wired?”
Dex blinks when he bounces the knife off the floor to another target by a tree. “Huh, yeah.”
You hum, watching him hit another target. “If you think that’s the right step, go for it. Pets are great company, especially the ones with personality.”
“Speaking from experience?”
Another target, another beep. “Yeah. I have a dog named Lady. She’s cute, busy as hell, but she helps keep me sane.”
“So I shouldn’t get a dog.”
You laugh and Dex likes how it goes up in pitch. “A chill dog, maybe. But you scream cat person to me anyway. Maybe a hamster.”
“A hamster is a smaller target…” He flings three knives at three targets spread throughout the crowd. Each blade hits that tiny red dot dead center. “But a cat might be good. They’re more independent.”
“Exactly. Perfect fit for you.”
One last target and the 100% pops up as if he hasn’t been getting them this entire session. You whistle at the perfect accuracy, noting them down on your tablet. Dex should go, but then the statuses of acquaintances would remain. When he should take the next step.
“I was thinking about going to this shelter on 38th and 10th. Heard they have a lot of animals there.”
You perk up, lips curling upwards in thought. “Oh hey, that’s like ten minutes from me.”
“Oh?” Dex matches your surprise, “Wow, that’s…wow. I was planning to go on Saturday if you’d like to go with me. Give me tips?”
You pause, shifting where you stand. The lack of eye contact is apparent that you didn’t want to go with him to the shelter. As a bonding moment. He probably came on a bit too strong. He should’ve just left it at he was planning to go on Saturday, leave the opportunity to invite yourself be up in the air.
“That sounds fun.” You say, “I don’t have any plans.”
“Great.” He flexes his fingers, not wanting to smile so wide that his face hurts.
Ten more points to the friendship scale.
The shelter opens at 9 am, but he wanted to get there at 10 just so it didn’t look odd. Plus, it gives you time to eat some breakfast. Not rush as much to meet up with him. He didn’t want you to hurry because of an outing he suggested.
He stands right by the shelter at 9:55 am. Early enough to scope the scene out and to bail if you don’t decide to show. The crowd wasn’t too bad. A handful of people coming and going, only a third leaving with a new companion.
Dex is serious about having a pet. Another friend in his life to prove how well it's going. He just didn’t expect it to happen so soon.
You arrive at 10:01. You’re panting, clutching two smoothies. “I’m sorry! The line at the cafe right beside my building was a little backed up.”
“You’re okay.” He takes a banana-orange smoothie. He wasn’t expecting you to notice him. Since when did he bring up the fact that he likes bananas?
“Heard you boasting one time about the banana milkshake back at a diner you went to. So I had a feeling you’d like bananas.” You say, like you’ve read his mind, sipping your smoothie.
“Ah. Thanks.”
So, you’re paying attention to him, too? Interesting.
Inside the shelter, clipboards are lined up across the desk, slightly crooked. Some employees, dressed in scrubs, lead other people to the back while some man the desk. In line, Dex nudges his finger against the clipboards he can reach, lining them up straight. Perfect.
“You think you’re gonna find your forever friend here?”
Dex nods, “This shelter has excellent reviews. The animals are well cared for here.”
“Still, you can always go to another one if you can’t find a pet.”
“Will you come with me if I can’t find one?”
“Sure. We can turn it into an adventure.”
He smiles a bit. Now he hopes he can’t find a cat here. If it meant more bonding time with you. And enjoying how great you smell today. Like a clean spring? It matches the cool weather.
“Hi!” The receptionist greets, “Are you two lovebirds looking into adopting today?”
Lovebirds? Wait…
“Oh!” You laugh, immediately getting rid of any awkward air. “We’re not together. We’re just friends.”
Friends? Already? Whoa, that was fast.
“Yeah. Just friends.” Dex doubles down, laughing with you. He likes how yours fits his own. “She’s helping me find a pet.”
“I’m so sorry.” The receptionist fans her face, embarrassed. “You two just looked so cute together. Sorry, about that.”
You’re tugging on your blue scarf, your laugh taking a nervous flit. Dex takes the clipboard and fills out his information, ignoring the faint blush on his cheeks.
It was bound to happen. Men and women becoming friends can be easily mistaken for romantic interest. He didn’t want you to think any more than that. It’s already great enough that you think you’re friends.
And all it took was shopping for a pet.
“Did you mean it?” Dex asks after getting a ticket number. He had to wait to be called and go into the back. “Are we really friends now?”
“Ah.” You fix your glasses, taking an unusually long sip from your straw. “I guess we are. I don’t know, I just didn’t want that lady to assume.”
Yeah, that makes more sense.
“Right. I get it.”
Two points go down in the friendship scale, but it didn’t mean defeat. It wasn’t a great space to announce your friendship to him anyway. Dex wants it to be more memorable than that.
When he’s called, he follows the employee to the back. A sterile mixed with animal smell hits his nose—the dogs are off to a huge area to the left, with a play area outside. Cats were to the right. All in cages with another smaller area that leads outside and inside.
The employee remains on standby as he browses through the selection of cats.
Each one, big and small, fat and tiny, all in cages. It’s a lot, almost too many to deal with. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea.
“This is…a lot of cats.”
“I know.” You cosign, “Let’s start by reading the descriptions first and go from there.” You carry his smoothie. Just so he can focus on the task at hand.
Dex goes through the cats available. Hardly any kittens or younger cats. A lot of are older from teens to adult life. Some were given away from an abusive household or because an owner died and no one wanted to care for the cat. Each one locked away in hopes of finding their forever person.
Can he be that type of guy?
His track record with animals hasn’t been the greatest. Killing birds for fun in his youth isn’t worth telling anyone unless he wants to be looked at differently. He doesn’t want to. A cat he can handle. He likes them. They’re hardly bothersome.
Maybe that’s why he likes the one who hardly pays him any attention.
Clover. An all-black Maine coon. She’s licking her fur, not giving him the time of day. The description says she’s not very sociable, but can get comfortable in any home. Great. Just what he wants.
“Really?” The employee says, opening up the cage to let Clover out. “She really is what the description says. It’ll be amazing if she notices you’re there.”
“I’m sure.”
The employee carries Clover to the play area just so he can get acclimated with her. Maybe change his mind once he sees how she acts.
It never came.
Clover does a gentle brush to Dex’s leg before sitting beside him, grooming herself. All mundane, like she doesn’t care much about what’s going on in her world. He gets it. Kind of. She does let you pet her head, leaning into the touch before going back to do what she’s doing.
“Well, you like her?”
“Yeah.” He says, giving a little scratch on her head. “Told you cats are independent.”
“Yeah…I see.”
After signing some paperwork, getting a complementary basket filled with cat treats, food, litter, and toys, Clover is put in her cage and to her new home.
Dex doesn’t point out how you actually follow him back to his apartment. He’s expecting you to go your separate ways back home. But no, you walk with him. Take the train, sit next to him while he carries his new cat.
“Do you need to get any more cat stuff?”
“Nah. I bought plenty.”
A cat tower, a litter box, and an automatic feeder. Just in case he’s gone longer than usual.
Dex lets Clover out of her cage and she steps out slowly. Looking around at the new scenery, her new home. She makes a point to rub against his leg again, then yours, before exploring the house. The cat tower isn’t out the box yet. He wanted to put it up after the shelter.
“Congrats on your new baby.” You say, watching Clover jump on the couch and lie in it. “May she keep you company.”
“She will.”
You motioned to the boxed up cat things in the corner, “Want help with that?”
“Oh, uh…sure. If you want.”
“Of course. I asked.”
Dex lets out a laugh before motioning you to the pile. Your head glances over at the simplicity of his apartment. The single, clean couch. The TV is centered directly in the living room, aligned with the coffee table. His bedroom is off to the left, a decent size. Not too big or small.
Just enough for him. And Clover.
You help set up the cat tower. It’s placed right beside the entrance to his bedroom. A cat bed goes on the foot of his bed, but he has a feeling Clover might not use it. The automatic feeder is also set up, but took a while as the instructions aren’t clear. You come to save the day though, setting it up so she’s fed every eight hours.
The light hits his eyes through his curtains. It’s a little past one and neither of you has eaten yet. A lot of the groceries in his fridge are only good for one. He can try to add another portion though.
“Wanna get food? I’m kinda craving a sub.”
Dex perks up, “Yeah. There’s a bodega a block away from here. Although, I’ve never tried.”
“Well, we can try today.” You grab your coat and bag, blowing a kiss to Clover who’s currently asleep on his rug.
Dex chuckles, “She likes you.”
“And I like her. She’s actually perfect for you. Mysterious, calm…”
“You think I’m mysterious?”
You hum, hands in your pockets as you two stroll down the sidewalk. “When I first met you, yes. But it was just because of your persona. You have to know what you look like when you put the suit on.”
He does, but he never thought mysterious. He preferred menacing.
“I guess I should think about that for the future.”
You shake your head, “No, it’s okay. I’ve gotten to know you now and I don’t see you as mysterious. Well, not as much.” When you two go in the store and place your orders, you continue the conversation. “I’m surprised you didn’t see me that way. Since…I’m…you know…”
“You’re all business. I get it. You deal with dangerous people and you don’t want to take work with you.”
“You’re…not work, Dex.” You state, getting closer to him. He doesn’t mind the closeness. It gives him a chance to smell your honey scent again. “Not anymore. I should try to know the people I handle. Make sure I’m taking care of them.”
“You are.” He says, full body towards you so you know he’s serious. “I wouldn’t know where I’d be without you.”
“Still alive but using kitchen knives.”
Dex chuckles at your joke. You really mean it. You are putting in effort just like he is. So you do want this to turn into friendship.
He takes in that high when you two go back to his apartment. Eating your sandwiches, letting you get a sneak peek of how particular he is in his home. Making sure the dishes were aligned perfectly after doing the dishes. How he organizes his books on his bookcase by size. Big, medium, and then small. The pillows on his couch perfectly fit against the cushions.
Well, until Clover pushed them off.
Overall, he can call this outing a success. He got a cat and he has a better understanding of you. Good enough that he can use when he sees you at work.
Whenever Dex comes in there’s always something in his hand.
It varies depending on the time of day. If it’s early in the morning, it’s your usual breakfast order. In the afternoon, he gets you a lemon scone and warm green tea. Late at night, pizza or maybe Chinese if you have to work late.
Every time he’s met with a smile from end to end, saying thank you for whatever gift he gives you that day. Genuine appreciation. It leads to you talking to him for a while. First about Clover, but then it shifts into hobbies. Like his books, what bird he saw today, if he’s going to watch the upcoming baseball game.
He always answers with care, never lying to you. He returns the attention. He asks about Lady, what’s happening in the TV show you’re watching, or if there’s anywhere you wanted to go, so he can go with you. Natural conversation.
The days when he comes in feel better. He gets to see you, talk to you, and pretend to understand who you are as a person. How you talk about the close relationship you have with your mother, how you like being alone a lot, and it takes time for you to hang around other people. Dex gets it.
It’s why he ignores the teasing comments from the team, pointing out how close you two have gotten. He doesn’t mind, even when you’re clearly embarrassed at the obvious attention. But don’t discredit it. Which was…interesting.
Dex doesn’t bring it up, not when he’s alone with you during the trek to your apartment. The city still gets dark sooner, and your discomfort never changes right when it’s time to go. So he makes sure he’s there when you get off, taking you home every time. Your shoulders lower whenever he’s beside you, proof that you’re relaxing in his presence. As a true friend.
He meets Lady, who is true to what you’ve said about her.
She greets him like a new friend, jumping at his waist, letting out little yips of excitement. You laugh, mentioning she’s finally meeting the new person she’s been smelling lately. And she likes what she sees.
Dex takes the dog’s excitement as a good sign. He was hoping she did like him, knowing dogs had a sense of someone’s character.
“Oh, you’ll be hearing from me soon about a mission.” You say, watching him play with Lady. “Charles said it’s important so we gotta take this seriously.”
“Okay.” He says, throwing the ball so Lady can chase after it. You shift in your boots and he pauses throwing the ball again to look at you. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah.” You immediately say, “I just uh…want you to be careful. I’ve never said it before so I want you to know. Stay safe.”
Your eyes glimmer against the kitchen light, filled with concern. Dex tilts his head before fixing himself. “I will.”
He’s…hardly seen that before. Worrying isn’t lost on him; he’s witnessed it countless times throughout his life. But towards him, it was rare. And it felt…good. Like he needed to care, so you didn’t worry any more than you had to.
You shouldn’t need to worry about anything. Ever. As long as he can help it.
The mission is overseas. The target, Adrian Murini, is holed up in a grand hotel in Brazil. A broker and a witness for an upcoming trial connected to a governor who can overthrow it with his testimony. Security is locked tight, and Dex has to be close to make the kill.
You supply him with his gear and make a joke not to lose another knife while he’s out there. To ease the stress at the thought of him going to some dangerous place. You know he can handle it, but it makes sense to be worried about your friends.
The flight is long, the hotel is less desirable, despite being ten minutes away from the target’s. Adrian is stationed in the middle of the hotel, on the 16th floor. It was off. Dex would’ve liked a prime number instead.
You send him plans of the hotel layout, and he’s able to get access to the security cameras. Five guards in the room, two stationed outside. There’s a switch every six hours, and they’re in the adjoining hotel next door.
The new knife you gave him is in his right holster. The easiest to reach, the one that can quickly get him out of trouble if he needs it. Dex smiles when your face pops into your head. His friend. You’re probably still worried and will be that way until he’s back at headquarters.
He sends you a text, hoping to distract your racing mind.
‘Send me a picture within eight hours. Smiling.’
He chuckles at the eyeroll emoji before a message says, ‘Eight hours is too long.’
‘Six then.’
‘Four.’
‘Five.’
You stop texting for a minute. He figures you got pulled away. One of the team members is asking you something stupid, like how to work the coffee machine again.
It’s his cue to leave anyway. The window to get Adrian is closing and Dex plans to kill him right after dinner. Where his body won’t be discovered for a while and Dex can get out more easily.
Another message and he opens it before walking out.
He freezes. His eyes go as wide as they can past the irises of his mask. Your face is bright, clear, and radiant. A smile that takes one of his knives and aims right at his chest. You’ve…never looked that way before.
‘You’re pretty.’
Dex immediately sends without a second thought. It’s possible to say that about women friends without it having an underlying reason. Right?
He doesn’t look at your message, not when the notification pops up. He has a job to do. And you’re waiting for him to come back. He didn’t want to keep you waiting.
Dex finds a way in the hotel through the workers’ entrance, right when most of the staff are busy serving dinner. He slips through pristine white shirts and smooth black skirts, avoiding cameras until he has a way up the stairs. Hardly anyone uses them, so he counts the floors until sixteen arrives.
Here’s the fun part.
The guards by the door didn’t stand a chance. Two knives sink into their neck without a delay and he catches their bodies so they won’t make noise. Dex slips in with the room key. The guard's position never changed, so he hurls a knife at the guard at the door before he can notice him. The second one faces the window so an easy kill.
Slinking past the mini kitchen, Dex grabs the guard that’s by the target’s bedroom and slits his throat. As he bleeds out, staining his suit while his body jerks, the last guard comes out of the bathroom. Where a knife is between his eyes.
He opens the main bedroom and the target quickly stands up, hands raised.
“P-Please. Don’t kill me. What I can do will change the fate of this country for decades. Maybe centuries.”
Dex doesn’t speak, eyes tracing the room. A half-eaten dinner of lamb and rice, TV low and playing whatever action movie is on. He takes a closer look and sees it’s a racing one. He’ll have to ask you if you’ve seen that one.
“Whatever they’re paying you, I can double it. Triple it even.” Adrian sputters, his slender form quaking in his pjs. “You look like a man who has sense.”
“Not anymore.”
Two knives hit Adrian square in his chest and head. Dex catches the body and places it neatly on the bed. Then snaps a few pictures.
See? It all worked out in the end.
Dex walks out, a bullet hits his shoulder. One of the guards. He must’ve gotten out for another rotation. But it’s too early.
“I have the suspect, repeat I have the sus-”
A knife knocks the gun out of the guard’s hand. Another hits his neck. Dex quickly runs out of the room right when the rest of the guards see the mess he’s made. Shots are fired and he’s bolting down the stairs. His shoulder stings, blood leaks from his wound and leads a trail. He’s been shot before, but it still fucking hurts.
He makes a call to you, sharply inhaling to hide the pain. “I need the closest safe room.”
“What happened?”
“Got shot in the shoulder. I’m fine.” He doesn’t want you to worry. Even when he had a close call.
There’s no panic in your voice, just urgency. “There’s one two miles away. It should be enough to get you away from the heat. There’s also supplies there to patch you up.”
A guard goes up in his direction and a knife stops him.
“Thanks, sunshine.”
“Dex-”
He cuts the call. He’ll bring up how rude it was of him later. He just needs to get out alive first.
Police arrive on the scene, and guests are clamoring due to the sudden noise from above. Dex cuts down any other guard in his path, bursting through the back doors. Sirens ring in his ears when he breaks into a nearby car, driving it off and away from the scene of the crime.
Blood trails down into his suit, getting all over his chest and arm. He shakes his head during the drive to stay awake. He can’t pass out. Not like this.
The safe room is at an abandoned house.
Dex opens the bulky, metal cellar doors, quickly going inside and lock it tight. There, he gives you another call, panting.
“I made it.”
“Thank goodness.”
The safe point had a cot, some supplies in a drawer, and a mini fridge. He pulls off his shirt, mask coming off with it, before digging through the list of supplies. The bullet went through so no need to worry about finding it.
“Tell Charles that the mission went well.” He hisses when alcohol spills into his wound, “He’ll like that.”
“I’ll tell him later. Where did you get shot at? Do we need to send a medic over there?”
“No, it’s fine. It’s just my shoulder. Bullet went through clean.”
“You’re not doing this by yourself.”
“I’m not.” Dex grabs some bandages, “You’re here with me.”
“I’m not physically there.”
“But I can hear your voice so it’s good enough.”
He grins at your sigh, holding back any other noises to prove how much pain he’s in. He means every word. A friend like you at his time of need? He couldn’t ask for anyone else to be here. To keep him company.
“I’m telling Charles you need a raise.”
“Like Valentina will say yes to that.”
“She will after a strong recommendation from me.”
Dex chuckles, finishing bandaging himself up. He washes his hands by the makeshift sink and digs into the fridge for something to eat. There wasn’t much besides a fruit cup and water. It’ll have to do.
He takes two painkillers and lies on the cot. Distant sirens are heard nearby, but they shouldn’t find him. He got rid of the car a few blocks back and made sure to go through the grass to lose the blood trail. He wasn’t going to stay here long anyway. He needed to go back home.
“Stay with me.” He says, not giving you room to say no. “I need to hear you.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“Anything. Just…don’t hang up yet.”
Silence lingers on your end. For a moment, Dex thinks you might’ve hung up on him. “I checked on Clover earlier.”
“Oh? How’s she doing?”
“Okay. She was on your bed before I left. I think she misses you.”
“I miss her too. I’ll be home soon.”
“You will. I’ll make sure of it.”
He smiles, knowing you can’t see his face on the other side. “You’re the best.”
“Keep flattering me. I also like matcha from that cafe up the street.”
“Noted.”
More silence, but it’s comfortable. Your breathing on the line lulls him in a way. He leans against the screen, picturing you right beside him. Checking out his bandage, brows lowering with worry. Your lips in a cute pout.
He thinks back to your picture and blood rushes to his cheeks. “Did you wear makeup today?”
“No. Why?”
“Nothing…” He mutters. “You just looked…nice.”
“You said pretty.”
“You did look pretty. And bright.”
His stomach churns at your giggle, “Thanks.”
Even your laugh is nice. It always has been. He doesn’t know why he’s noticing it now. He might’ve took too many painkillers.
“It’s clear you’re not going on a mission any time soon.”
“I know…”
“Which is good. We can hang out more often.”
“Yeah? And do what?”
“Whatever you want. It’s only right since you got hurt on the job.”
“Of course.”
As expected, Dex had to take some time off from missions until he heals.
The doctor gave him two weeks to make a full recovery and to take advantage of resting and relaxing. Not to do much physical labor to increase the recovery time. Dex shouldn’t like that. His work involves helping people, getting rid of the bad ones to make the world a better place. Now, he can’t do that.
If this were eight years ago, he wouldn’t know what to do himself. In all the get-well cards and flowers, it hardly meant anything in his empty apartment. But there are visitors.
His team stopping by to check up on him, give him food, update him on what’s been going on in the office. Saying they missed him. He missed them too. Especially you.
You who is always at his place before anyone else. Who gives more food than he needs, make sure Clover has everything she needs in case he can’t give it to her. It was funny. It’s not like he was hit by a car or thrown off a building. He is still capable of taking care of himself. But you, how you try to take care of his needs before you work, it’s…He doesn’t know how to describe it.
His heart thumps faster than normal whenever you’re there. When you’re close. So close he can smell the peach scent from your lotion. That makes him want to lean in closer for more.
When you dress, it’s all very nice.
Despite the colder air, your style with sweaters, jeans, and boots looks good on you. Splashes on orange and brown every time you come over. He wants to say how good you look, but doesn’t. The reaction you had when he called you pretty was unexpected. And don’t get him started on the nickname.
You bring light to his life like the sun, rays peering past the suffocating darkness that surrounds him. Sunshine was…harmless. Obviously, you didn’t think so.
He just got good at being friends with someone. He didn’t want to mess it up because you look prettier than usual. Smell better than usual.
Dex just wants to take walks with you and Lady. Enjoy the park with just the three of you. Lady running after the ball he throws, you laughing at how fast she’s going. He wants to make you laugh like that all the time.
When you’re exploring a new restaurant, he likes when you coax him into trying your food, wanting him to enjoy whatever you just ordered. He doesn’t miss when he eats from your fork and then you use it, not caring that it came from his lips. He simply watches, a question about their evolving relationship lingers. But nothing is said. Just laughs and your lovely smile.
“Charles is thinking about taking you out again.” You say, scooping some cheesecake and eating it.
Dex follows how your tongue swipes across your lips, catching any whipped cream. “I need to get back in the game again. Makes sense he wants to take me out now that I’m healed.”
“The doctor cleared you yesterday.” You grimace, shoving another bite in your mouth. “You shouldn’t rush back into things again.”
“Don’t wanna get rusty.” He locks onto the spoon you hand out to him to try the cheesecake. Dex slowly nods, like he’s making an important decision in his life. He takes the piece, lime and graham crackers dancing on his tongue. He doesn’t leave your face when you lick the spoon, diving in for another taste. “I’m useful. Don’t want anyone to think otherwise.”
“No one will. I’m just saying it’s okay to take a few more days off.”
Dex chuckles, “So, you can have me all to yourself?”
“Yes.” You wink, eating another piece.
“Careful. If you keep this up, the team will think we’re dating.”
Your brows raise, “Oh? Is that what people are thinking? That we’re dating?”
It was meant to be a joke, but you’re asking with such intrigue that makes him shift in his seat.
“No, well…you’ve heard the jokes. The teasing. Everyone thinks we are, but we both know it’s not serious.”
You snort, “Jeez, you don’t like the idea of dating me, Dex?
“I didn’t say that.”
“It’s okay if you are. I get it, I don’t do much. I just work and go home and sleep. I’m boring.”
Dex scoffs, “You’re not boring. I like that.”
“But not enough to date me.”
“Do you want me to go out on a date with you?”
“Maybe.”
“So, let’s go on a date.”
You blink, dropping your spoon. The room gets small. Suddenly, he realizes there’s a lot of people in this restaurant and he just dropped that he wants to go out with you. What the? How the hell did this happen?
“Shit.” Dex shakes his head, “I didn’t mean to-”
“You didn’t mean to ask me out?”
Silence. Just you and him staring at each other.
“No, I didn’t.” He covers up, unable to see you past the rapid blinking, “We’re…just friends. Right?”
“Right.” You force a smile, but he immediately sees that its fake. Not the one that makes you glow every time he sees you. Crap.
Dex pays for dinner and walks you home. Hardly anything is said, besides work, him mentioning he was going to bring breakfast tomorrow. Nothing about what happened in the restaurant. That he didn’t want to date you.
It’s not that he didn’t. That would just mean you two won’t be friends anymore. Just more.
He’s never had more before. He can’t think of the last time the opportunity of having more was given to him. This was too different. He’s already doing a lot by having a pet, making the effort to make friends without disguising himself as someone socially acceptable in society. What will this mean? If he became more with you?
Dex isn’t sure. Not when he’s in the headquarters in the next day, bringing breakfast as usual. You take your usual order, saying thank you with a smile. You’re still faking. Even when he tries to make conversation with you. You indulge, but don’t go further as usual.
He doesn’t like that.
When he offers to visit Lady, you shut him down, saying you’ll be tired later. He pretends to understand.
Were you looking forward to going out with him? Dex didn’t see why. He’s boring. He’s the one who needs help in reclaiming his mind. You? Anyone would be lucky to go out with you. So out of all people…why him?
A mission to Canada does little to stop his rushing thoughts.
You’re doing your job, as you’ve always done when you handle him. This time it’s brief. No follow-up questions, jokingly telling him not to lose another weapon, text him to be careful. It feels off. Weird.
‘No picture?’ He sends a brief text, lingering by the front door of his hotel room. Not running out to kill his target yet.
‘Now? Don’t you have a target to eliminate?’
‘I’m early. There’s plenty of time for a picture.’
‘If you’re early, you can kill the target now and get the next flight out.’
‘Not until I get a picture.’
There are three dots, then it’s gone. It pops up again, then it’s gone. Dex’s heart slowly creeps, almost like when he’s about to catch his prey. But this time it’s waiting for the moment of truth. To see if you’ll indulge him or not. Have proof that you’re not mad at him.
Five minutes and nothing.
Of course. The friendship is gone now. Points have been erased from the board and the sign flips from friends to acquaintances. All his hard work. Gone.
His phone vibrates and he immediately opens the message. It’s you but…very different.
You’re looking up at the camera, showing off more of your body. Your blouse is unbuttoned, not too much to show off more than you want, but just enough to see your cleavage. You’re wearing a push-up bra and everything is…highlighted. Defined. Did you always wear push-up bras?
Your lips are parted, your eyes wide. He doesn’t know what to say. You look nice. No, more than nice. Nice doesn’t apply in this instance. Same thing on why he doesn’t think you look pretty. You’re more than that.
‘You look sexy.’
Dex doesn’t leave yet. Not when his phone vibrates once more. He doesn’t look at it. What he said starts something he can’t help but start. It’s the truth, you look sexy. The rising tent in his cargo pants is proof enough. Good thing he’s early.
After taking care of himself, killing his target in a park, and take the next flight back home, he can’t stop looking at the picture. And your response to his comment.
‘Thank you. <3’
Is that what you wanted? To be noticed by him? He’s always noticed you, even before the restaurant fiasco. He just…doesn’t know what to do.
Dex isn’t sure what will happen once the friendship twists into something more. It’s because what if you think he’s too much for you? Friends is one thing, being involved requires more commitment, feelings he isn’t sure he’s felt before. Or in a long time.
Are you sure you want that?
When he’s back in the office for debriefing, making sure you send all the important details to Mr. Charles, neither of you brings up the picture. You’re still dressed similarly to what you sent him, your chest profound under the blouse, work pants tight on your legs. Your glasses resting on the tip of your nose, increasing the desire to step forward and push them up for you.
“Are we still on for the film festival this weekend?”
Dex perks up, lining his eyes back to yours. “Yeah. Starts at ten, right?”
You nod, still writing down notes on your tablet. “I have our passes, so don’t worry about that.”
“Okay.” His eyes trace down your frame again. He should bring up the picture and ask what that’s about. But what would he want to hear? “Are you excited?”
“Yeah. Are you?”
“I am.”
A pause. You’re done with the mission debrief notes, sending them out to Mr. Charles with the tap of your finger. Your glasses are still low, your shirt is still intentionally unbuttoned. He should leave. He should leave.
Dex moves forward, pushing up your glasses from the bridge with his finger, making sure it settles perfectly across your face. Your eyes go wide, staying still as he doesn’t move back from his previous spot. Just staring at you. “Why are you doing this?”
“What am I doing?”
He sharply inhales, accidentally taking in your honey perfume. “This…looking like…this.”
You look down at yourself, “Just trying something new. You don’t like it? Thought you’re supposed to support me as my friend.”
“I am.”
“Besides calling me sexy yesterday.”
Dex shakes his head, “I meant it.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“Nothing.”
“Okay. Then…” You motion him to leave your office. Looking like that. Shit.
He doesn’t move, nor do his eyes. You don’t either. A staring contest that may appear playful to others, to Dex, he’s trying to decide. Whether to leave or to take that next step. To be more.
Friends don’t call their friends sexy. Unless they have an underlying intention.
For Dex…he didn’t want to show his intention in here.
“I’ll see you Saturday.”
The film festival took place on the west end of Central Park.
The air was cool enough for people to huddle up in jackets and blankets outside, ready for the movie of the night to play. Aisles of stalls with food, movies, CDs, and games to help pass the time before the main event.
He wasn’t sure if it was going to be enough of a distraction.
When you met up with him by the entrance, nervous was the first thing he felt since he started this relationship with you.
Your ivy green sweater dress, tights that match the color of your skin, and black boots that dreadfully stopped at your knee. A breeze blew past you, banana and vanilla make him lean into the air. As an excuse to not lean on you.
He should’ve expected you to dress like this. Well, you’ve always dressed like this, but now he wants to keep looking at you. Admire how enticing you look.
“You look handsome.”
Another hit to his heart. Dex was hoping you didn’t notice he put in more effort himself to look nice too. The brown and navy blue suede jacket, black shirt, black pants are a dead giveaway.
“Thank you. You look…great.”
“Not sexy, huh?” His lips part at your teasing but you laugh it off, “I’m joking. I won’t mess with you anymore tonight.”
“Right.” He narrows his eyes, a mix of playful and suspicion.
The movie didn’t start for a few more hours, so he browses with you. Endless selections of DVDs and CDs from some vendors. You browse with intention, aiming to pick out some you need a physical copy of. Some for him, too.
“I think you’d like rom-coms.” You say, going through a huge bin filled with classic movies. “There were so many good ones back in the day.”
Dex peeks through the pile, a mountain of DVDs pushed by your hand. “What makes you think I’d like rom coms?”
“Because experiencing love and laughter is one of the best feelings in the world. Try it.” He doesn’t disagree, but continues watching you go through the pile. Close, making sure you don’t fall in and helplessly flail. “Got it!”
You turn and you’re right in his face. He could practically make out the pores on your skin. Dex takes a step back, not wanting to make the day uncomfortable already. You don’t say anything, but show off the case you picked up.
“Bride and Prejudice?”
“It’s so good. I used to watch it a lot when I was little with my mom.”
“Well, if you’d think I’d like it…”
“You will.”
Before checking out, Dex skims over to the pile of DVDs again. “I’ll pick one for you too.”
You lean over his shoulder and he tries to refrain from pulling you closer. Hold you under his arms. “Okay. What are you thinking?”
He picks up Ninja Assassin and you nod at the choice. “Of course it’s an action movie.”
“We need some variety.”
“Ah so we’re watching these after the festival?”
Dex hums, not realizing this is lowkey an attempt to get you back to his place. Or yours to continue the outing. “Maybe.”
You roll your eyes at his answer.
After the DVD shop, you wanted to browse some CDs, bringing up his CD player. Dex mainly uses it to listen to Dr Mercer’s recordings, indulging in a little bit of jazz classics or two. They were a dollar each, so fair game to you. He doesn’t say anything when you pick up case upon case in your arms. Full of a wide range of genres: jazz, rock, early pop, and r&b. Things you think he’d like.
“I hope it’s enough to add to your CD collection.”
“You don’t have to buy me all of this.”
You raise a brow, “Why not? We’ve been meaning to get you more music anyway.”
“Yeah, but…” He trails off, words that might offend you on the tip of his tongue. “You should get some music for yourself.”
“I hardly use my CD player anymore, Dex, come on.”
Dex grimaces, letting you pay for them.
It’s not that he didn’t want them or the movie. He’s sure he’ll like everything you pick for him. It feels as if you’re trying to get on his good side, like you ever left it. As proof that, despite what’s happened before, you two can still be good friends.
It doesn’t sit right in his stomach. Dex isn’t sure if he can classify this as a friendship anymore. The sway of your hips, how his heart upticks when you point at a new stall in awe. That sweet scent makes him follow you wherever you want to go.
Friends don’t think of each other like that.
In fact, this feels like a date more than a hangout. Maybe he should treat it as such.
“Hey,” He takes a step forward, easily holding your hand, “I saw a stall that sells great tacos. You hungry?”
Your eyes go wide, darting down to where your hands connect and his eyes. “Uh, yeah, yeah I’m getting there.”
“Great.” Dex leads, taking you to the food stand. Your face hardly changes and you don’t let go either. At least until you’re at the truck and you pretend you need to get your wallet out. But he’s paying, as a gentleman should on a date.
He likes this. It’s more natural. Just right.
You don’t bring up the hand holding and Dex doesn’t pry. Your movements are slower, despite your face becoming neutral. Still trying to figure out what just happened while putting sour cream on your taco.
“You smell nice.” He says, realizing he should compliment you more. “Banana smells great on you.”
“Ah…thanks.” You shift on the bench, not taking a bite out of your taco just yet. “So do you. Was that a…new cologne?”
“Yeah. I got it a few days ago.” He figures sandalwood was a good start. For this...date.
You nod, deeming it adequate to eat. He watches, a smile threatening to break at the streak of sour cream on the corner of your lips. As a good date should, he takes a napkin and hands it to you, motioning to where the cream is. You awkwardly take it, following where he’s pointing.
“You have an idea of what the movie might be?”
You shrug, glancing over at your pamphlet. “I’m hoping it’s that AI one. You know where the girl falls in love with her AI companion.”
“…I think that’s been done before.”
“Yes, but this time the roles are reversed. And the girl is blind.”
“Ah, right.”
“Would you fall in love with an AI companion?”
“No,” Dex gruffs, wiping off his hands, “I hardly use my phone, I wouldn’t take my chances with something like that.”
You hide your amusement behind your drink, “But you are open to…liking someone?”
He doesn’t leave your face, waiting for an answer. Dex still has reservations about romance. He’s also never taken that step, unlike other men his age. So many things he hasn’t experienced that he isn’t sure it’s possible for him to. This is a new arc for him. He’s taken steps to show he’s not like he was years ago.
Romantic interests can be possible.
“Yes.” He admits, “I’m just…it’s been…I’ve never really experienced that before. I’m still a bird who hasn’t learned how to fly. Yet.”
“A pretty old bird.”
“We’re the same age.”
You laugh, “My point still stands.”
Dex playfully scoffs, “Will you help me learn how to fly then? The whole works?”
“I can but…” You pause, tongue in cheek. He has to remind himself to breathe, not think of the extremes, “you said, asking me out was a mistake. Do you still think that?”
“No. I didn’t want to ruin what we have. You’re…special to me. I haven’t met anyone like you before.”
You don’t hide your smile this time and he can’t help but smile with you.
“Me neither.”
Dex feels the shift happen in real time. After eating, you immediately take his hand, letting him to sink into the reality of what this is now. What you two can be.
As it gets dark, you two take your seats. On the floor, the fluffy blankets provide enough cushion for both of you. His breath hitches at the random pain that aches his joints while he sits. You immediately hand him some painkillers and a bottle of water. That you had just in case.
Even on a date, you never truly stop working.
The movie is exactly the one you said, which makes you happy. Dex takes in the light in your eyes, how you gently shake him in excitement when the opening credits roll. On instinct and because he saw another couple in front of him, he wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you flush against him.
It’s a little cold and the body heat will help as well as the blankets.
That’s his logic anyway. Not because he gets direct access to your banana scent, but finally able to feel you. You fit so well against him, too like you belong there. And he wasn’t going to let you go. Not if he had anything to say about it.
Something else has an opinion too.
During the movie, Dex’s pants get tight again. You taking his hand, thumb rubbing it didn’t help either. He knows its been a long, long time since he’s gotten physical contact like this. And you saying that you’d be willing to help him.
This? It’s too perverted right now. Dex can’t expect you to help him with something like this. Not when you two just started dating.
It would be too much.
He inhales when you accidentally brush against his crotch, trying to get yourself situated.
“Oh…” You whisper, making eye contact.
“Sorry. Just ignore it, it’ll go away soon.”
“You’re okay, Dex. It’s natural.”
“Really?” He forces out a laugh, “I didn’t wanna scare you.”
“I’ve experienced my fair share of boners. It’s okay.”
Your lips press against his cheek and he feels the imprint of your lips on his skin. Unfortunately, it makes his cock jump. His heartbeat rising. You have his hand stay on your hip. So close to your ass. Your…nicely sized one.
His boner remains, difficult to keep all of these thoughts at bay while the movie is playing. Dex should take it easy. Not want to feel all over you behind closed doors. Wonder how you sound against his ears.
It would be too much. Too. Much.
He softens right when the movie ends. The sad ending changes the mood for the evening and you were sniffling a little. Dex gently pats your back, lowkey not understanding the movie at all, but not wanting to ruin how you’re feeling.
“Didn’t expect that movie to be sad at all.”
“Me neither.” He agrees while taking you home. A few blocks and a subway ride away. “Changed the mood a little.”
“Yeah, sad movies aren’t good for boners.”
Dex shakes his head, “Don’t bring that up…”
“Why? Don’t be embarrassed. I told you that’s common.”
“Yeah but…” He shuts up when they go inside the subway car, picking the seats a bit away from the rest of the riders. “I wanted to…do more things. When you kissed me I…I wanted more. Needed it.”
“Oh. I didn’t realize…”
His cheeks warm up and he glances away, pretending to focus on the train car behind them. It’s ridiculous. Feeling all of these things so fast. You shouldn’t witness him being aroused and inexperienced.
Dex wants to get some books to understand what you’d like. Emotionally and physically. It’s only fair.
“Do you still need it?”
He faces you, a hand on his thigh, gently squeezing it. That simple touch heats up his skin, surging down below. “…why are you asking?”
“You forgot what I said before?” You laugh a little and he swallows hard. “Just…helping you learn how to fly.”
Dex doesn’t tear away from your eyes, pleading, awaiting a truthful answer. He should say no. It would be too quick. And he didn’t want to disappoint you. Set any unfair expectations because he’s plagued by salacious thoughts and feelings.
But…what would you want to do?
“Yes.”
Back at your apartment, everything is quiet.
Besides Lady yipping and begging for pets, which she gets after a few tries, before you lead him to your bedroom. Dex takes everything in stride. As you close the door behind you, light from your blinds hits parts of your dress. Each step you take is slow and cautious, giving him room to change his mind if he’s uncomfortable.
He wasn’t. Instead, his heart picks up speed. The gentle sway of your hips boosts his arousal. Dex doesn’t try to fix himself this time. It’s just you and him. Alone.
Your arms wrap around his neck, coaxing him to bend down a little. No kiss is shared yet. He has time to admire the shape of your eyes, their color, the tip of your nose, and your lips. Like you’re sculpted carefully. With purpose.
And he gets to have you. Him. Of all people in this world.
“Is this too much? Too close?”
Dex shakes his head, capturing your lips. A simple peck, so that he can get used to the feeling again. The softness of your lips, the indent of your makeup on his own. He quirks a smile before kissing you again.
More force, more passion. He needs to show that he really likes this. Kissing you, your body against his own. He grips your dress for some restraint, not wanting to lose control immediately. Banana and vanilla live inside his brain. Imprinted so he can remember this moment forever. You’re following his lead, sighing a breath apart.
A small press against his torso. Dex sharply inhales at the roll of your hips, right over his erection. You don’t stop, pushing him towards the end of your bed. He breaks the kiss just enough to land on his back as you crawl on top of him, eyes filled with desire.
Dex doesn’t want to break off the kiss more than he has to. He groans at the fat of your thigh, how he’s able to handle the weight on top of you. The only time he does is when you pull off his jacket, and you kick off your boots.
You take his hands and place them on your ass, causing him to tense up for a moment. You notice, immediately stopping.
“Shit, was that too much-”
He silences you with another kiss, kneading your cheeks in his palms. You gasp against his lips, pushing your hips back so he can have more to hold. You’re rolling your hips again, causing him to let out a guttural growl.
You pull his bottom lip back between your teeth. Dex rolls his eyes back when you close the distance and trace your tongue across it. His lips slightly part, beckoning your tongue to his. Easily gliding against it to help him get used to it. He does, angling his head at a better angle for the tongues to dance.
All while he helps you move your hips over his bulge some more. The tension between his pants and you is becoming unbearable. He needs them off. Now.
You slide your hand between your bodies, unbuttoning his jeans and pulling down the zipper. Without words, Dex lifts up his hips to help you pull down his pants. A very clear imprint in his boxers, but with less tension.
When you grind your hips against his covered cock again, he gropes your ass for assurance. It’s too good that it’s almost criminal. And when you do it again, he expresses that delicious ache with a grunt. You swallow it, grinding against his bulge again and again and again.
The edges of your dress rise; your tights are gone now. The seat of your panties against his leaking tip brings tears to his eyes.
He should say slow down, not have his body ruin this night. But when you’re rotating your hips like that, hitting a spot that makes him bite his lip, he can’t say anything. Dex holds you down, making sure you’re rubbing his shaft at a decent pace. He can’t focus on kissing you anymore, but he likes when you nip and suck his. A trail of spit as a bridge between the two of you.
Breaths are quicker, his joints slightly crack when you go faster, making the bed creak. He’s lost in that sweet scent when he stills, cum coating his boxers. Dex’s cry is silent, his lashes fluttering in disbelief. His entire body is heavy when he comes up for air, gasping against your neck.
“That’s good…you’re okay…” You reassure, parting his hair with your fingers, scratching his scalp.
Dex jerks at the sensation, moving into your touch. “I didn’t mean to…”
“It’s okay. I think you needed that.”
He tsks, leaning up for another kiss. A slow one. One with intention. “Your turn.”
“Oh, you don’t have to. We already did a lot.”
“I want to.” You raise your dress, showing off the lacy black panties. As you bend down, he pulls them down to your ankles. “Help me.”
You guide his fingers to your wet hole, a sigh fanning his face. He takes some of your slickness and presses two fingers along your clit. “Slow, small circles please…”
Dex takes your guidance, circling your bud. Your eyes lower, lips part. You’re kneading his hair too at the same time. He dips inside you again then rubs your clit once more.
It picks up in speed and so does your voice of ecstasy. A moan ignites goosebumps on his skin.
“That feels good, Dex.” You coax him, trying to show what a good job he’s doing.
He doesn’t change his pace while figuring out which rubs work and which don’t. The ones that make you sigh and the ones that make you shift. He was worried about not being well-read in this topic, but what’s a better experience than hands-on?
Dex increases the speed of his rubs and focuses on your quickened breathing. How your body relaxes when you stop feeling his hair and grip it with need. You’re grinding against his fingers and he has to keep you still with a hand on your back, unable to help but smile at your reactions.
You tug his hair, back slowly coming into an arch. “D-Dex…I’m…oh…”
“Do it…”
You moan along his face, body tensing up and sending shockwaves across it. Your brows furrow, your lovely lips part in a way that makes him want to kiss you again. Exposing yourself to him until you can’t anymore. Then crash against his chest, panting along it.
Dex looks at the sheen on his fingers and licks them, humming. “You taste good.”
“Uh, thanks.” Your laugh is breathy and alive.
He doesn’t let you move, wanting to enjoy the mess you two found yourself in. Half-removed clothes and a dog who’s begging to come in and see what you’re up to.
Would sex be an upgraded version of this?
“Thank you.” Dex starts, eyes still at the ceiling. “For wanting to be my friend.”
You smile, caressing his cheek so he can look at you, see the care that’s written in your eyes. “Of course. I’d do it all again too.”
When you are ovulating, Simon’s cock weeps from overstimulation, but he never complains.
You’ve been riding him for who knows how long, and he’s on his… actually he can’t even remember how many times he’s cum. You’re feral, truly feral, bouncing up and down his length, sitting down fully until his tip is pressed against your cervix and leaking precum. Grinding down on him, your hands fall to his chest, digging your nails into his skin to steady yourself as he writhes beneath you.
He’s a whimpering, whining mess, cursing under his breath, with his eyes rolling to the back of his head when your pussy clenches down on his length. Every time your ass slaps against his thighs a breath of air is knocked from his lungs, leaving him gasping and clutching the bunched-up sheets around his limp body.
“C-can’t take anymore l-lovie,” he stutters, placing both hands on your hips, but instead of moving you away, his own hips buck up just to feel more of your warm, wet walls around his aching cock.
His mouth hangs open as drool drips from his chin, his eyes half-lidded while he watches your breasts bounce directly in front of his face, and he can’t help but suck one nipple into his mouth to bite down and relieve some of the unbearable pleasure. You moan out, your fingers moving to tangle in the hair at his nape, pulling harshly on the strands before pushing your chest out for him by arching your back.
“One more Si, p-please… need it, need your c-cum,” you beg, gazing down at him with fucked out eyes, obscene moans flooding his ears each time his cock knocks against your cervix.
Your knees dig into the mattress on either side of him, caging his body underneath yours while you ride him as if your life depends on it. Skin slaps against skin, the sounds sharp and loud, the headboard bangs against the wall, sure to leave a dent or scrape the paint, not that either of you care. The smell of sex hangs in the air so thick you can taste it, musky from the salty sweat beading across the two bodies that move together in tandem.
“So g-good,” you praise, bouncing harder, faster, pushing him deeper inside of you while your walls suck him in, and clench down as if your pussy never wants him to leave.
The veins and ridges of his cock slide through your walls, filling you up to the brim, leaving no parts of you empty for too long. He sucks, bites, licks on your nipple, letting it peak between his lips before moving off with a pop and focusing on the other. One of his hands slides from your hip, finding your clit with ease to rub tight, quick circles on the sensitive bundle of nerves instead.
You cry out in pleasure, sinking down fast to grind against his fingers before lifting up once more. With the added stimulation, your body grows weaker the closer and closer you reach your climax, and you beg him to help you.
“C’mon lovie… I g-got you,” he says, planting both feet on the bed behind you, and steadying you on top of him before he begins to pound into you from below.
His balls clap against your ass, sensitive and empty, and he whimpers every time. You slump against his chest, your nipples dragging across his rough skin, his fingers still working your clit, and you’re walking the edge of your orgasm faster than you would like.
“C-close… I’m so…”
He thrusts in deep and hard, knocking the air from your lungs, cutting off your words as a sharp gasp rips from your throat when his tip nudges against your sweet spot. Stars burst behind your eyelids, the sheer ecstasy rushing through your body is enough to have you cumming on his long, thick cock.
“That’s it. Cum on m-me,” he encourages, eager to feel you come undone, his cock crying out for him as it bullies your insides and bruises your cervix.
Your muscles draw taut, your body becoming rigid as pleasure consumes your entire being. Cum gushes from your entrance, leaking out around his length for the umpteenth time tonight, dripping from his skin and pooling onto the already wet sheets below. Your pussy clenches impossibly tight and pulses rhythmically around him.
He fucks you through your high, drawing it out as long as possible before giving himself the same release, his fingers only letting up on your swollen clit when your body begins to jerk and twitch from his overstimulating touch.
“Shit- gonna f-fill you up again lovie.”
With a few more thrusts he’s burying himself to the hilt and releases his seed deep inside of you. Long, thick ropes of warm cum flood your pussy, leaking out from his tip against your cervix, coating your walls and dripping out when there is no more room left inside of your raw walls. Your belly tingles from the sensation, your skin burning from his touch, your body weak on top of his as his thrusts slow and he collapses onto the pillows again.
Simon’s chest heaves against yours while he tries to catch his breath, his heart pounding in your ear as he comes down from his intense high. You do your best to recover too, your breathing coming in short, ragged gasps, the sound of your blood whooshing past your ears louder than any of the lingering whimpers and whines from stimulated sensitive body parts, your legs and arms trembling from the prolonged activity, it is all too much and not enough at the same time.
His cock continues to twitch inside of you, the mess continues to pool underneath you, and knowing you, you still would want more.
okay, skip with me and keep rhythm or else i'm gonna trip you and leave you in the dust,
warning somno? technically yeah cause dex thinks you're asleep but your not. tried to keep sub dex up in the air / ambiguous?? but im also not sorry for my slip ups and i didn't actually try that hard :/ oops. sorta maybe proof read
our lovely, never felt the touch of a woman in his life, dex waking up with all his limbs coiled around you, face pressed into the back of your neck while his hips softly jerk into your ass
he dreamt of you, which is normal but woke up right as he was cumming, making a dark wet splotch form on his boxers from how close he was. and the only way i don't see him intentionally trying to wake you up while making it seem like an accident, is if your relationship were fairly new and dex was learning about you more intimately than he ever would watching from a distance
a part of him would try to go back to sleep, ignore his throbbing boner but touching you made it worse, so soft, warm, and you smell so fucking good. just how you did in his dream. the devastating part, is dex has already developed trouble sleeping if he weren't touching some part of you.
so dex shoves his hand down his underwear. actually, i feel like he's the type (especially when he's trying to be sneaky what a loser) to slide his hand through the slit down the front. it sort of constricts his movements, keeps him from stroking himself too fast or get too caught up in the pleasure.
but then minutes pass. dex's heavy breaths turn to sharp, shaky gasps as he moves on from squeezing his cock tip to base to just twisting his closed fist around his tip. he's copying you but his own hands will never compare to how yours touch him with such tenderness even when being punishing and cruel.
his hips twitch, thighs begin to shake and he can feel the bed jerk beneath him but not that burning sensation spreading from his cock throughout his body
your secret weapon— cupping his balls in your hand and pressing your thumb to the space below his cock— doesn't work. his hands are too big. they aren't soft enough. he's expecting it, knows it's going to happen. he's too in control to find the same pleasure he seeks in you.
you, who've been awake since his leaky dick first started to form a slightly uncomfortable wet spot on your sleep shorts, knows this and waits with a shocking amount of patience for dex to come to this realization as well, biting at your lip to stop yourself from jumping his bones every time he catches a pitiful gasp a little too late
and you really think he's got it this time, when you shift slightly because the pooling slick in your shorts is getting a bit unbearable. the idea of getting caught by you, so delicious in dex's brain he has to clasp his left hand around his mouth to say he at least attempted to muffle the hoarse moan that rattled through his chest
dex's legs would squeeze shut, accidently putting pressure on his balls just like you would and the shaky, surprised inhale he nearly chokes on convinces you he would cum like this. next to you in bed, while he thought you were asleep after having a very obvious wet dream that left your nape slightly damp from all his heavy panting.
then the bed stops moving and all you hear for a while is dex's uneven breathing sounding moments away from crying. you feel him move, lean over you and stare for what felt like eternity as if his thoughts alone could wake you up. then — and with less care than he would have used any other night, flop onto his stomach with his arm flung over your waist
his movements were subtle at first, testing to see if he liked the given friction and pleasure. then his tip slips from the waistband of his shorts due to the slick mess of his lower abdomen, slathered in his own pre-cum.
dex's thrust against the mattress become more erratic, every push of his hips driving his cock into the sheets you picked out together brings him closer to you. literally. it isn't until his cock head is trying so hard to wedge itself between your hipbone and the mattress does dex realize the difference.
"as long as he doesn't wake you up." he'd tell himself. you'd never have to know and it'd be a one time thing. you wouldn't want him to go on like this, frustrated, about to burst and it's your fault really. dex was perfectly able to get himself off while watching you, looking at your pictures, videos he may or may not have taken from afar, imagining your face on the porn he rarely watched because he had you.
and you are so wet when he guides himself between your thighs. fucking soaked. god, were you dreaming of him too? was this all still from earlier when he fingered you so good you were the one that was crying?
the memory of cleaning up those salty streaks with his tongue all but digging into your flushed face has him pushing into you faster and dragging kisses on your shoulder despite himself.
he needed to taste you. he wanted your lips on his, to suck your tongue into his mouth, nip at the muscle or your lip or both and hear you hum and have you spit in his mouth
but for now he'll settle for the faint hint of sweat lingering on your skin from one of new york's warmer nights and instead of clinging to your waist for dear life when your thighs shift just as he's bottoming out, dex white knuckles the sheets while releasing short, hot breaths into your shoulder. unaware if the metallic tang on his tongue is from his tears or if he finally drew blood from how hard his teeth dug into his lip
your shorts did nothing but piss dex of every time the soaked fabric caught on his tip instead of your plush thighs. you could tell he was losing his high again when the arm around your waist came down to furiously rub at his slit every time he poked through
he's start whispering, begging, "please please please please—pl-ah! ah ah ah" sighing with a long drag, imagining its you sweet spot he’s nudging repeatedly, not his fingers. begging you or himself to not let his orgasm slip away, neither of you can be sure. hell, dex does even notice he's mumbling until you're slipping your hand beneath the one touching his cock and circle his head in gentler, slower motions.
dex stutters, his frantic incoherent speech, his hips, the grip of his hand that had flown to your thigh the instant he felt your touch. your name slurred with whimpers and shaky gasps is all he knows. that and how your fingerprints feel dragging down the underside of his cock until you pull at his base like you're trying to draw him closer.
and boy, does he try.
now that you're awake, what point in there was hiding or holding back?
his other arm crawls between you and the mattress, underneath your shirt and straight to rolling your nipple between his fingers all the while pulling you as close as he can
wet, messy kisses are sporadically placed up your shoulder to your neck, his teeth barely contained. by the time dex reaches your jaw, he’s not even lifting his head between nipping kisses.
and when he reaches your face, he'd let you nuzzle your nose to his, bask in your sleepy affection before crashing his lips onto yours. when you'd stop him, because you have been holding in everything you wanted to say for the better part of an hour, with two fingers pressed to his lips, he'd kiss them all the same. from your finger tips, down to your wrist, biting at the pulse jumping beneath his tongue and trailing up your neck all over again
can we normalize not using fake tags? or at least not using daredevil x reader for characters who aren't matt murdock, yes i know it's literally the name of the show but why do i get more dex and frank and spiderman??? whenever i search the tag (even the matt murdock tag?) it's lowkey ridiculous.
but ykw i know i'm asking too much because i still to this day see shit like 'clark kent smut' under a fluff post about hazel from bottoms. it sickens me. clark would never stand for attention being taken away from lesbians
It was rare that Dex got sick. Sure, when he got injured you forced him to rest in bed. But getting sick? Like catching a cold? He didn’t do that.
Neither did he do acting sick and miserable. So when he woke up with his voice raspier than usual you knew something was up despite Dex acting otherwise.
“For the love of god, Dex.. get back in bed.” You sigh, resting your hands against his chest as he pulled you in by the waist. You two stood in the kitchen, tea brewing quietly on the stove.
“No, im fine.. juust fine with you right here.” He murmured, pulling you impossibly closer into his embrace. “Do you even hear yourself? You cant even speak up properly. In bed, please.” You squeeze his cheek softly, wanting to irk him a little. But he didn’t mind it as he bit your palm in reply.
You huffed out a small laugh, pulling away slowly. Pulling him by his hand to the bed, he didn’t argue as he wasn’t going alone.
After you successfully lured him into bed, you giggled as you got off the bed. “Fine. One soup and thats it.” He called out behind you from the bed, resting one arm on his eyes.
You came back with some tea for the both of you. Knowing he wont drink it alone. You rest both mugs on the nightstand before making yourself cozy beside him.
Dex wrapped an arm around you as you made yourself comfortable, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. He sighed as he drank the tea, relishing in your touch as you gently rubbed your chest while he took slow sips.
After all that horndog posting I'm a lil soft on ddba Dex rn :') the concept of a North Star being out the window but he still needs things and/or a person to fixate on to be able to focus/be centered
Allow me to indulge 🚶🏾♀️
No warnings, just fluff and this'll be tagged as a mini fic; "you" and "she" used; fem reader, reader has a cat bc I'm biased asf and he seems to like cats, reader dialogue in blue text
940 words I fucking love him your honor.
Imagining being his next door neighbor and managing getting close enough to him. You know him as "Tony" but you watched the news. You were very aware who he was, but if he didn't want to be upfront about it you totally understood. He was still closed off but didn't mind a few conversations here and there just to fill that little void that craved normalcy
The sweet old lady from down the hall (I forgot her name I'm sorry 💔) gushes over you two all the time. You had a calm, soothing energy to you and Dex could feel himself wanting to be around you way more often. He doesn't need a North Star for guidance anymore as he ages, but there was still that itch to have a focal point. Something to admire and mimic in his everyday life to be a better person. Actually want to make something of himself in his own selfish way. It's weird but it gets him through his days
You've come over a few times, he's gone over to your place a few times. You have a cat and she lovesss him. The first time he came over she was weary at first, causing him to frown a little. But when you reassured him that she does that to everybody and to let her smell him, he took that a little personally. Because he wanted to be like you and wanted anything associated with you to rub off on him. So when he sat on the lounge chair and leaned down to let her smell his hand, she immediately warmed up to him and jumped into his lap.
He went stiff for a moment but then he saw your smile. It was like the sun stepped inside the cozy apartment.
You did regular check ins. He didn't because he didn't really understand why you did it, though you didn't take it personally. There was one time he attempted to do exactly what you did, but when you opened the door he kinda just stood there and attempted a smile (it was mostly teeth and it didn't even reach his eyes). You appreciated it nonetheless
He'd be gone for periods of time but you didn't worry cause he always came back. It wasn't hard to tell his footsteps apart from the other tenants and you came up with a little game to guess how the day went based on how hard or soft he walked
Here's where things really change. He was gone for a whole day and didn't return until like two in the morning. Beat up, bloody, his suit stuck to his skin with sweat and grime. His mask barely tucked into his pocket and once he reached his door, he slowly looked over there you were, key in hand about to open yours to. Neither of you said anything, just stood there in silence.
He's slightly panicked and thinking oh shit, I fucked up. How do I explain this? Will she think differently of me? She might never speak to me again. A gradual whirl of thoughts crowd his mind before your simple question slices through it all
"...need some help?"
And that's how he ended up sitting across from you while you tended to his wounds. Zero experience in this but luckily he wasn't a pint of blood away from dying. You didn't know how to do stitches but he waved that off and said he'll do it himself. Your cat sat near his boot to comfort him. He thought she was just taking in his scent again
You watched from the kitchen as you made hot tea. Eyes stuck to the large scar along his spine. He knew you were staring but didn't care to point it out. After he's done with his stitches you drink together and drink in silence until he says:
"You already knew who I was."
It wasn't accusatory. Observant.
"I think anybody with a phone knows who you are," you chuckled. He mimicked your laugh--a little more awkwardly. "Doesn't change anything though."
"It should." He replied. "I'm not exactly a role model."
"I didn't say you were."
"Why help me?" He asked quietly. Genuinely curious as to why you'd do this knowing all the bad shit he did. You shrug.
"Cause I'm a role model," you say with a full smile and laugh. The sound makes the inside of his chest warm. "You need rest."
"Nah. Not big on sleep."
Your brow raised.
"Why not?"
He says nothing and just taps on the side of his head.
"Too loud."
Your eyes soften. Standing up and holding out your hand. He just stared at it. So clean. Untainted. But you don't move until he finally takes it in his. Rough, calloused. Pretty sure he's never held someone's hand before. Like, literally, ever. The feeling of your hand in his is almost like it burns.
You lead him to your couch and sit. He sits next to you. You pat your lap and he narrows his eyes.
"You can sleep on my lap. It might help."
He wants to say this is ridiculous but the sleepiness starts to hit him in your presence. With a soft sigh he adjusted and laid down
"This might not work." He mumbled. Then he felt you gently caress his cheek scar. His first instinct was to swat your hand away but it actually...felt good. Weird.
"Give it a chance," you say in a softer tone. When your nails met his scalp, you could feel his muscles tense, then eventually relax. And within ten minutes, he was sound asleep.
To The Moon and Back @fullmoon-84 - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
