dex needs to hear you say his favorite words
cw: mdni, switch!dex, handjob, praise, dex has been bitten by the lovebug
Your hand moves in a steady rhythm, the friction of your palm against him drawing a low, shaky breath from his lips. You’re sitting close enough that you can feel the heat radiating body, his muscles wound tight like a spring.
Your other arm is hooked comfortably over his shoulders, your fingers lazily tracing the line of his scar and caressing his cheek. Every time your thumb brushes over his tip, Dex whines and leans into the touch, his eyes half-closed and clouded with a hazy sort of focus.
The only reason you’re even letting him have this is because of how he came to you earlier. He hadn't been his usual composed self — he walked in looking completely frayed and dropped right to his knees in front of you. He wrapped his arms around your legs, burying his face against you while muttering that it physically hurt how badly he needed you.
Only you can make it better.
So now as you work his cock, he doesn’t look away for a second. He stares at your face with dark, hooded eyes like he’s trying to memorize you.
There’s no trace of his usual sharp edge; instead, his gaze is filled with a heavy, quiet adoration, looking at you like you’re the only thing left in the world.
Every once in a while, you lean in to press a lingering kiss somewhere on his face. You catch his temple, the corner of his mouth, and then the sharp line of his jaw, each touch making his breath hitch in his throat.
Dex leans into every kiss, his eyes fluttering shut as he drinks in the affection. You know exactly what he’s waiting for, and as your hand picks up the pace just slightly, you lean close to his ear.
“Tell me I’m good,” he murmurs, his voice barely a whisper. “‘M always good for you,” he closes his eyes and nuzzles his face into your palm.
“Are you?” Dex nods frantically as you dangle the praise in front of him like a prize he hasn’t earned yet.
His breathing starts to pick up, turning into short, heavy pants as he inches closer and closer to his orgasm. Knowing how close he is, you lean forward until your lips are just brushing against his, teasing him with the ghost of a kiss. At the same time, you slow the pace of your hand, dragging out the tension until he’s practically vibrating under your touch.
“You know you’re good, my best boy.”
The words hit him harder than the physical touch ever could. It’s exactly what he craves, and you can see it in the way his entire body reacts — his shoulders finally drop, and a low, shaky groan escapes him. He looks at you again with that dazed, smitten gaze, looking completely satisfied just to hear you acknowledge how hard he’s trying for you.
You catch the look of desperation in his eyes and give him a small smile before picking the speed back up and finally pulling him into a deep, heavy kiss.
Dex can't even find the energy to kiss you back; his lips go slack against yours as he breaks away, gasping for air.
He’s entirely unstrung, his forehead falling heavily onto your shoulder while his body continues to shudder as he spills all over your hand.
The only thing he’s capable of is a frantic, broken mantra, his voice a wrecked whisper chanting ‘thankyouthankyouthankyou’ over and over again. He sounds utterly relieved, clinging to you as if you're the only thing keeping him grounded while he finally comes down.
He keeps his eyes closed, his long lashes casting shadows against his flushed cheeks as the last of the tremors fade from his limbs. You can already tell he’s feeling much better; the sharp, pained lines that were etched into his face earlier are gone, smoothed over by a heavy, languid calm.
Even without him saying a word, the way he lets his weight settle fully against you shows that the ache he was carrying was quieted.
