i may or may not have lost track of time.. anyways, the morning after reader hooks up with ddba!dex | wc: 2.2k | i. ii. (can be read as a continuation or separately)
!! taglist: @s4ngel | @closestthingtocoffee | @peanutbutterjellytime3000 !! (just ask to be added)
the morning after, you blink slowly, groggily and fuck, your head was pounding. god, how much did you drink last night? you shift, just a little, and freeze.
there’s.. a man. a man in your bed. he’s lying on his stomach, turned just enough that his face is hidden from you, buried into the pillow; broad shoulders, bare back, the sheets barely covering his lower half. you don’t recognise him. you would recognise him, right? you try to think, where you were last night, who you were with, but it’s all frustratingly blurred at the edges.
then your eyes catch it, a scar. it runs down his spine. sure, it was clean and surgical but it seemed more like he was torn apart and forced back together. your stomach drops. who the hell did you bring home?
you’re still staring at that scar, trying to decide if you should move, or just pretend you’re still asleep when his entire body jerks; not a small twitch, not a sleepy shift, his whole frame snaps, shoulders tensing, back arching slightly like he just got electrocuted. you didn’t mean to yelp.
the effect was immediate, he wakes up like a switch flipped; not groggy, alert. his head snaps to the side, breath hitching, body going rigid for half a second like he’s bracing for something before his eyes land on you. then everything stops, the tension doesn’t disappear, but condenses into focus, as he locks onto you.
you decide, very stupidly, that you should get off the bed to give him some space. “i’m just- gonna-” you plant a hand on the mattress, trying to lift yourself, but the moment you shift your weight, your hips scream.
“aah- shit- shit-” your arms give out and you collapse right back onto the bed with a pathetic wheeze.
behind you, dex moves instantly. “hey-” he reaches out, reflexive, but the second he shifts his own weight he freezes, before his jaw tightens sharply. then a low, strained groan slips out of him. his hand falters mid air; and you see the way he’s fighting through something that clearly hurts.
then a quiet involuntary sound leaves him, softer this time. a whimper. this clearly wasn’t meant to happen, and when it does, his entire expression changes, like he wants to erase it. his lips press into a thin line, eyes flicking away from you for the first time since he woke up, shoulders tensing as if he was trying to pretend nothing happened.
then finally he pushes himself up despite the stiffness. you can’t blame him for it, he looks like he's pushing forty after all. “..i should go.” he mumbles, voice tight. he’s not looking at you, he can’t look at you, because last night’s chaos is slowly coming back to him.
you, of course, do not allow this escape. you lean back on your elbows, grinning at him. “nope, you can’t just leave.”
“yes, i can.”
“we just hooked up, so we have to.. get to know each other.”
that makes dex pause, actually pause. slowly, he looks down at you like he’s trying to understand how you can say that so casually. “the last time you said that, i had my tongue down your throat.”
you blink. then despite everything, you huff out a small laugh. “and i enjoyed it. your point?”
“you don’t remember.”
“no,” you admit. “i don’t. but i’m here, you’re here, and clearly something happened.”
“..you’re making this difficult,” he sighs. “you don’t even know my name,” he pinches the bridge of his nose. “besides, you’re way too young to be messing around with me.”
“do i really look that young to you?”
dex moves, closer towards you now as if to intimidate. he’s waiting for hesitation, for fear, for sense, but what he sees instead is you not backing down; if anything, you lean in slightly. that throws him off more than anything else, because in his head, you’re supposed to stop at this point, supposed to realise he’s too sharp, too dangerous, too.. much.
his hand tightens against the mattress and just for a second his control slips. thoughts cross his mind before he buries them again.
not ‘how do i make them leave.’; but ‘what would they do if i didn’t stop?’, ‘what would they do if i grabbed them by the neck-’
the thought hits him hard enough that he straightens slightly and pulls himself away.
“i shouldn’t have- this shouldn’t have happened.” he says. “i don’t know what you think this is, but you don’t belong in situations like this.” he pauses, then continues, quieter. “..especially not with me. you’re gonna get yourself in trouble.”
“so are you.”
he sighs. “you don’t listen, do you?”
“not really.” you admit, then introduce yourself. ”remember that.”
finally, he sighs and gives in. “dex.” he replies.
you do the same and tell him your name. “good, now that we’ve got that out of the way, let’s get to the good stuff, shall we?” then you lean in, breath tickling his jaw. “for example.. your cock inside me.”
he just blinks at you. “..what?”
“yeah.”
“you can’t walk, your hips nearly dislocated when you tried to sit up, and-” he looks down at himself to find himself in worse shape than he initially thought. there are marks, way too many to ignore. “..this is worse than i thought.”
“mhm, and?”
“and, round two will kill you.”
“worth it.”
“no.”
“yes.”
“no.”
“yes.”
dex grabs the back of your neck firmly. “you are literally stuck on this bed because your hips are giving out. you’re not getting my cock for at least twelve hours.” he sighs. “don’t think you’ll be getting anything else, ever.”
and obviously, he meant it in a very obvious, ‘you are way too injured to be doing this’ way; but you go still, then your face shifts.
“..am i just a hookup to you, dex?”
oh. his expression changes instantly when your breath goes shaky.
“no- don’t-” he starts, already shifting forward, hands half-raised like he’s not sure what to do with them. “don’t do that, c’mon-”
now there are tears, and suddenly he’s violently aware that he has no idea how to handle this situation without making it worse.
“don’t- don’t cry,” he says, quieter now, like lowering his voice might fix the problem. “i didn’t mean it like that, just stop crying, please.” he adds, almost helpless, but realises it came out wrong, too blunt. “sorry- shit, i just- look, i meant you’re hurt, that’s it.”
you sniffle, and he exhales sharply. “i’m bad at this, okay? just tell me what you want me to do?” he’s already halfway there, trying to solve something he doesn’t understand.
you don’t tell him, of course you don’t. you hiccup, and that small sound does him in completely. he looks genuinely lost for a second, glancing around the room like it has clues on how to calm you down. he frowns slightly, staring at you, your lower lip trembling just enough to sell it.
then finally he stops, because you’re looking at him like that, not asking for anything around you; just him. his words trail off and for a second he just stills, staring at you like the realisation isn’t something he had prepared for.
“..oh.” it comes out quieter this time. “you- that’s not..”
you just blink up at him through teary lashes.
he sighs. “..fine.”
and then you smile, not soft, not shaky, but bright, triumphant, even. dex goes still, it takes a second for the shift to register; and when it does, his expression changes.
“..you-” he starts, then stops. the tears are gone, the act is gone, and suddenly, finally, he sees it for what it was, a setup, a play. “you were messing with me, fake crying to get your way?”
“c’mon, just one more round?” you cross your arms. “i didn’t even get to feel you properly.”
he stares at you for a full three seconds, then sits up just enough to look you directly in the eyes. “no.”
“no?”
“no,” he repeats, quieter. he backs off a little this time instead of closer. “not happening.” there’s no bite in it, but there’s no give either.
“you can barely move, and i’m not-” he stops, jaw tightening briefly. “i’m not doing that agian while you’re like.. this.”
“but-”
he cuts you off with a look. “you already got one ‘fine’ out of me,” he mutters. “that was a mistake.”
“come on, dex, please? just- just once.. you won’t even have to be rough-”
he freezes, because that tone? the begging? that shaky little breath at the end? yeah, it goes straight through him. he goes quiet in a way that’s almost dangerous, not toward you, but inward, like everything just got pulled too tight.
‘they’re asking me.’
‘they think i’ll be careful.’
and that’s where it starts to slip, because his brain immediately pushes back.
‘would i?’
that’s the one that makes his stomach flip, not because he doesn’t think he has control, but because he knows that he already came close to losing it earlier.
‘what would happen if i-’
he snaps out of it.
“if i touch you like that right now, you’re going to snap in half.”
“but- gentle?”
“gentle? you?” he scoffs, before looking back down at his own torso, littered with marks from you.
you wiggle, trying to move to his lap like that’ll help your argument. he grips your hips immediately, preventing you from hurting yourself again.
then finally he exhales slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose like he’s trying to summon every ounce of patience in the universe.
“okay, okay, just- lay down.” he mutters.
“yes, finally!” your eyes immediately light up, heart racing, hips twitching despite their previous injuries while you practically glow with excitement; and that makes something in him tighten.
‘they’re happy i said yes.’
‘cute.’
then another thought, slower, more unwanted.
‘desperate.’
he gets annoyed at himself, because that thought is not helpful right now. “you’re not getting anything rough.”
“yeah- yeah, i know!” you babble. “i just.. just wanna feel you.. please, please, please, dex?” then you spread out, arms above your head, grinning stupidly as he kisses ur collarbone. “see, i told you.. gentle.”
dex sighs, again, hands on your waist to keep you from moving too fast.
“..actually, i don’t want gentle.” then you freeze for a split second. “i want.. hard, really hard.”
“excuse me?”
you smirk, mischievous. “i said, hard.” you tilt your head innoecntly. “what? getting too old to hear me properly, dex?”
his eyes narrow dangerously. “too old?” he repeats, zeroing in on you. “you were just begging five minutes ago, and now you’re insulting me?”
“it’s called range.” you say, and it nearly gets a laugh out of him. “c’mon, you agreed.”
“i agreed to stop you from fake crying at me.”
“mhm.”
“don’t ‘mhm’ me.”
‘brat’, he thinks.
your body’s already trembling with anticipation as you look up at him with that shit-eating grin.
he exhales through his nose, before kneeling in front of you. “last warning, you move and your will hips dislocate.”
“not gonna happen, don’t worry. i can take it, i want it.”
he groans, slowly lining himself up. he hesitates for half a second, taking a deep breath before sliding in.
“fuck.. dex!” you cry out immediately. “you- nngh, yes-”
his hands clamp onto your hips, steadying you, controlling the depth. every thrust is deliberate at first, testing you, making sure you can actually take it while your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer.
“fuck, you’re insatiable.” he mutters between thrusts.
“mhm, good. keep going, harder.”
dex hesitates, then just for a fraction, he pushes harder, way harder than he should. the reaction he gets out of you is immediate; a sharp inhale, your entire body tensing beneath him. that’s the mistake, because he feels it and something in him locks in completely, he gets terrifyingly attentive when he’s locked in, he becomes more aware of you than before. every reaction gets caught immediately, but honestly, the worst part is how perfectly he reacts to all of it.
“dex-”
“i know,” he says immediately. that should not sound as good as it does. he eases back just slightly, enough that you think he’s correcting himself, but then he notices the way you melt at even that tiny adjustment.
and suddenly every movement after that becomes targetted, exact, like his brain memorised the response and immediately started chasing it with frightening efficiency.
“oh my god-” you breathe out, half-laughing because this is getting unbelievable.
he barely reacts to the words, his focus is too deep now.
“you’re shaking,” he says quietly.
“..you’re doing that on purpose.”
it hits you even harder because he’s not even trying to tease anymore, he’s just locked in, muttering things under his breath while adjusting with impossible precision every single time you react.
“there you are..”
“good,”
“look at you.”
it’s the concentration that gets to you the most, the overwhelming feeling that, right now, nothing in the world matters more to him than what he’s doing to you.
“dex- i-.. fuck, ‘m close..” you whine. and finally you cum, thighs shaking from exhaustion. “f-fuck.”
it doesn’t take him long either, his forehead dropping forward as he fills you up.
“finally feel your cum in me..” you press yourself closer to him, still panting, eyes half-lidded but sparkling with that post-sex glow. “..c’mon, one more?”