Chokehold
Benjamin Poindexter X F!Reader (18+)
TAGS/WARNINGS: PUURRREE SMUT GUYS, MDNI, fighting, lowkey cnc, stalking, possessive Dex, handjob, fingering, controlling!Dex, cumplay
Synopsis: Dex cares about you…maybe too much. What’s the harm in looking out for a friend though, right? Right…?
Benjamin Poindexter has got you in a mean chokehold. Thick bicep flexing around the soft expanse of your throat, calloused fingertips pressed into your scalp, your hair curled around his fingers in a way that burns. It hurts, all of it. The way his other hand has your wrists pinned behind your back, grip so tight it feels like the bones are grinding, bruising in real time. Your breathing is laboured, choked sounding, as you struggled to swallow despite the way his muscles are constricting your throat. You can taste iron, though you’re not sure if it’s his blood or your own.
“Don’t move-” It’s a command, his voice low in your ear, breathing laboured as his chest presses against your spine. “Make one more god damned sound and I’ll snap your neck.”
The threat has anger coiling behind your ribs, your lip curling, teeth bared. You’d have snapped back at him if your windpipe wasn’t being crushed. Dex’s lips brush against the soft curve of your ear as he tries to catch his breath, and you try to wrench your head away from him, disgusted with yourself for having let this animal get close enough to you to have you in such a compromising position.
But Dex can feel your muscles tensing, your rigid stance beginning to shift as you struggled to control your breath. His grip was too tight, and he could feel you fighting to take in a deeper gulp of air. But if he let you go, you could scream, reveal his position, maybe even-
You jerked forward in his grip and Dex’s hand tightened in your hair, another warning.
“I’ll let you breathe if you promise not to scream,” His tone is mean, biting, as he forces your head back. Maybe it’s mocking, animalistic even, but he lets his canine graze the soft flesh of your ear, relishing in the way your body tenses. “You make a fuckin’ peep and I’ll snap your pretty little neck. Got it?”
There’s silence for a beat. Two beats, nearly three-
“Nod your god damn head if you understand me,” He snaps, though his voice is still a whisper. You nod, the smallest of movements in his vicelike grip. Dex shifts then, his grip loosening in your hair as his arm releases ever so slightly. Your throat is no longer pinned in the crook of his elbow and you take in a gulp of air, a ragged breath escaping you as your breathing levels out.
“There there,” His tone is condescending as he shifts his stance, turning so that he can grin at the top of your head. “That’s it.”
You’re still shaking in his grip, though the anger is now laced with fear. “What do you want, Dex?” Your tone is biting despite the circumstances that’s got you vibrating in your neighbor’s grip.
Dex is silent for a moment, seemingly mulling over what he’d like to say to you. “You weren’t supposed to find out about this,” He finally laments and you nearly scoff.
“That you were stalking me? No shit.” Dex’s grip around your throat tightens again and you hiss, eyes snapping shut. You should have stayed silent.
“Don’t be so-” He huffs before he’s stretching his neck, shoulders flexing like he’s trying to get comfortable. “Condescending, Y/N.” He sucks on his teeth, feet shifting as he taps a rhythm against your wrists. “This wasn’t supposed to happen this way.”
“You’re an asshole,” You wheeze, back arching as you try to crane your neck, desperate to be free from this lunatic’s grip. He only laughs behind you. It sounds dry, unamused, bored even.
“Maybe,” His lips are against your ear again. You hate the way goose bumps ripple across your skin. A breathy chuckle escapes him and his warm breath ghosts across the skin of your collar bones. It seems as if he’ll say more, but instead Dex stays silent, fingers flexing against your wrists like he’s deciding whether or not he’ll release you.
Ultimately, he decides to, thick bicep slowly straightening as he releases you from his vicelike chokehold. Your head tips forward, and you swallow, a dull ache now present in the muscles of your throat. You suck in a lungful of air, acutely aware of how tense Dex is behind you. He hasn’t released your wrists yet, instead allowing his free hand to drift across your shoulders as he mulls over what he should do next.
“Why me?” The words escape you before you’ve properly thought about how they could impact the obviously unwell man behind you.
Dex is silent. You try to crave your neck to see him, but his hand is suddenly gripping your jaw, forcing your gaze forward. You hiss, his grip bruising as he keeps you in place.
“Keep your gaze forward.”
You breathe hard through your gritted teeth, jaw flexing as you try to control the anger simmering beneath the surface. “You don’t have to manhandle me so much.”
Dex sucks his teeth again, index finger tapping a soft rhythm against the corner of your lip. “You’re feisty. Can’t chance it again.”
You almost smile, the memory of your fist connecting with his lip replaying in your mind. He clearly hadn’t anticipated you attacking first when he’d pushed the doors of your balcony open and walked in like he’d owned the place. How many times had he done that? He’d seemed too comfortable, too smooth. Was it only when you weren’t home? What about when you were sleeping?
Realizing Dex was stalking you had been…jarring, to say the least. You’d known for months that something was off in your every day life, and you’d only recently started to put your finger on it. A stalker. You’d started watching everyone in your life more closely, waiting for a slip up, anything. You hadn’t expected it to be Dex, or maybe you’d hoped it wouldn’t be. The calm, calculated, handsome man who lived in the apartment above you. FBI. It made sense, right? He had the skills, the experience, the motive. But Dex had been nice, you’d even considered him somewhat of a friend.
But rounding the corner and recognizing the way the man’s shoulder’s shifted when you’d caught someone in the reflection of the window of a storefront? It impressed Dex. You were smart, observant, and your intuition was almost alarming it was so accurate.
You’d surprised him. Even more so when you’d stared straight through him, eyes fixed on where his should have been in the reflection and said one simple word; his name.
His full name.
“Poindexter.”
It was firm, resolute, almost…eerie. He’d frozen, heart in his throat, how had you caught him?
But before he could move forward, explain himself, explain that he was just worried about you, just wanted to make sure his neighbor was safe, that she was cared for, you were gone.
You’d taken off in a sprint, purse tucked carefully under your arm, breath laboured.
Fuck.
Where were you supposed to go?
Home, you realized. Because where else? He knew everything about you, because not only was he stalking you, you had let him in. Trusted him. Considered him a friend.
But home? It had everything you needed. You could grab your things and then run. Going to the police would do nothing. He was FBI. You were positive he had tricks up his sleeve, he was Dex-he was smart.
How had you been so dumb? How had you not known it was Dex?
Somewhere deep within you whispered that you were being foolish. You had suspected Dex for weeks, maybe even known it was him, but had foolishly hoped that just this once, maybe you were wrong. Maybe he was just looking out for you. He was charming, friendly, skilled. You enjoyed his company. Why would you assume something so big that it could ruin the very nice thing you had going with your neighbor?
Well, that tended to fall apart when he 1) stalked you, and 2) you tried to knock him over with a chair.
Dex had landed in your apartment like a lynx-smooth, silent, quick.
And you’d slammed your kitchen chair into his chest like you were an MMA fighter.
The fight only escalated from there.
You were proud of the way you’d handled yourself, more rage than fear burning through you as you fought the greying blonde. You’d landed a few hits, teeth bared as you fought to simply knock him down and have him stay down long enough to run again.
But Dex was strong, and skilled. He’d tried at first to simply subdue you-he didn’t want to hurt you, he cared about you. You were smart, kind, you’d let him in and listen when he was struggling. But you were also landing hits and your strength surprised him.
Eventually, he’d had to knock you down, use his full strength to keep you down. He hadn’t meant to be so rough, but you’d nearly knocked his jaw out of place. It was only fair that he knocked you back with just enough effort to get you into a position he could control.
But not before you’d bitten him.
“Fuck!” He’d nearly shouted when your teeth had sank into the muscle of his shoulder. He’d had to wrench you away from him like some wild animal, and he’d nearly snapped your neck with the force it had taken. His hand had been curled in your hair, grip tight enough to hurt as he’d pulled you off of him, his own blood coating your teeth.
He didn’t miss the way his chest had tightened at the sight.
You were tougher than he’d given you credit for.
But the tussle had hurt the both of you, and now here you were; back pressed against his chest, both of you bruised and bloodied, rage and betrayal coiled like snakes in the pits of your stomach. Dex, angry that he’d made such a fuck up with you, lip split and sore from where your fist had connected with it and you; betrayed and bloodthirsty because how dare a man pull such a cruel stunt? Was it what you deserved for having had faith that maybe just this one time, one would prove themselves to be good?
“Why?” Your voice was sharp, words almost slurred from the way he was gripping your jaw. “Why were you stalking me?”
You couldn’t see it, but Dex’s face curled into a grimace. He was embarrassed and angry with himself for having gotten caught. He had just wanted to make sure you were safe, that you were okay. You were too nice, listened too often to assholes who could hurt you, men who may try to take your time, time away from him.
His breathing was laboured, sharp, head buzzing with adrenaline-no, fear-as he tried to collect himself.
“Answer me,” You growled and suddenly Dex was pushing his pointer and middle finger past your swollen lower lip, the rough pads of his fingers heavy against your tongue. You started, nearly recoiling at the way he was silencing you, thicker fingers pressing past your teeth.
“Shh, just let me-let me-” Dex shudders behind you, stance shifting as he tries to collect himself. “Let me think.”
You blink, eyes wide. You could bite him, right now, leave him bloodied and injured with the way he’s got you situated. Two fingers pressed against your tongue, nose buried in your hair as he tries to collect himself.
You don’t, instead you find yourself trying not to flush with embarrassment at the way your spit is beginning to soak the digits. Your teeth press lightly into the skin, breath warm around him.
Dex lifts his head after a few moments, swallowing loudly behind you. The gesture doesn’t seem to be intentional in its sexual nature, and Dex seems to be genuinely lost in himself behind you, his anxiety obvious as it continues to climb.
“I-I didn’t mean to scare you,” Dex finally begins to speak, and his voice sounds different, somewhat smaller. His fingers flex absentmindedly against your tongue as he struggles to find the words, desperate to explain himself.
He couldn’t handle you leaving, hating him.
“It started out simple, I was just looking out for you. I was worried-” Dex lets out a shaky breath and you feel the way it shifts across the back of your neck. He licks his lips before he continues, “You’re too nice to people. Your exes, coworkers, hell even strangers, they try to take advantage of you.”
You frown, tongue shifting against his fingers as if to protest because no, you establish boundaries and are quite good at communicating-
But Dex’s fingers flatten against your tongue, silencing you. You try to swallow the spit that’s accumulating in your mouth but it’s difficult given the way he’s pressing into your mouth. You feel the digits press against the roof of your mouth as your tongue shifts, drool slipping past the edge of your mouth and down the corner of your lip, soaking his fingers.
The filthy nature of the situation is embarrassing.
Still, you squirm, ashamed at the part of you that’s thrilled by the way he’s got your wrists pinned, how he’s silencing you, and how desperate he sounds behind you as he struggles to explain himself.
“I care about you Y/N,” He says earnestly in your ear, sighing behind you. “I’m just trying to keep you safe. Can’t you see that?”
He was delusional, far more damaged than you’d originally thought, and fear prickled along the length of your spine. He genuinely believed he was in the right, that he was doing you a service, that he was a hero of sorts.
“Please,” His voice is desperate, near whiny. “Can’t you see that?”
You try to pull your head away from him, his fingers pressing too deeply into your throat, a breathy sound escaping you. You can’t speak, can’t answer him when he’s got you situated like this. If he pressed any further into your mouth you feared you may gag on him.
“I’m gonna move my hands, okay?” Dex’s voice is a bit more firm now as he speaks, his lips beside your ear. “Don’t scream.”
There’s a beat of silence before Dex begins to slowly slide his fingers across your tongue, pulling them from your mouth before he’s holding your jaw again. His hand is wet against your skin as he cradles your face in hand, his firm grip a reminder of the control he has over the situation.
Your tongue slides across your lip, the salt of his skin mixing with the iron of your blood.
“You didn’t need to stalk me,” Your voice is hoarse. “I was-” You sigh, frustrated as you struggle to find the words. “I thought we were friends.”
A little more, actually. You’d hoped he was interested and had fantasized about him more than you’d ever care to admit out loud.
“We are friends,” Dex insists, shifting closer to you. You startle, eyes widening as your hands brush against the crotch of his jeans. It isn’t intentional, you know that, it’s just the nature of the position he’s still got you forced in. Your wrists are trapped in his much larger hand, pressed against your tailbone as he shifts closer. “I just had to make sure you were safe-”
“That’s bullshit and you know it,” You snap back, and it’s far more mean than you’d meant it to be. “That’s not what you were doing Dex, so cut the bullshit.”
You crane your neck to look back at him and for the first time this evening, Dex allows you to. You can only catch the corner of his face but what you can see startles you.
Pupils blown wide, greying hair moussed, drying blood at his temple, nostrils flared as he tries to catch his breath.
He looked…scared.
“Tell me why. Now. And be honest.”
Dex opens his mouth to speak again, stuttering over more bullshit before you’re rocking your head back, skull connecting with his chin. He curses, nearly losing his grip on you.
It aches but you snap at him again anyway. “Stop lying to me!”
“Fine!” He barks, and suddenly his hand is slipping from your jaw, long, slender fingers wrapping around your throat as he leans forward. “I don’t want to share you.”
You pause, eyes fixed on the wall ahead of you.
“Is that what you wanted to hear?” His voice is a snarl, nasty, mean, as he talks down to you. “I don’t want anyone else spending their time with you. Listening to you, learning you, taking you away from me. I can do all of that for you. I can be there for you, help you, keep you safe. Isn’t that enough?”
You should be scared. More than that, you should be scared that you’re not scared. But a part of you, maybe the broken part that you should have addressed years ago, is flattered. Flattered that someone as intelligent, calculated and skilled as Dex has become so possessive over you. Flattered that someone so handsome was angry at the thought of sharing you.
So when you flex your hand and your palm flattens against the zipper of Dex’s jeans, right where his dick should be, and you feel him catch his breath, you don’t say a word. It seems innocent enough, like you’re trying to release some of the tension in your muscles, but Dex’s fingers flex against the smooth skin of your neck and you feel it-
Feel the way his cock flexes against your palm, the way it seems to jump to life at your touch.
Dex seems startled by it, swallowing loudly. “What’re you-”
He’s cut off when you cup him, grip tight as a strangled moan escapes him, face tipping forward against the back of your head as he momentarily loses control. Your pulse flutters under his fingertips, hands pinned between your ass and his front as you gently squeeze his hardening cock.
“Y/N,” Your name is a breathy warning on his tongue, his eyes wide as he stares down at your hand and how you’re palming him. This wasn’t what he’d expected, especially not with how angry you’d been with him only moments before. “If this is some sort of game-” He’s cut off when a strangled grunt escapes him, your thumb rubbing circles over the head of his sensitive dick. He can feel the wet spot forming in his jeans as his hips jerk forward, desperate for more friction, for more of you.
Was this mean? Maybe. Cruel? Probably. Maybe that should have startled you, but it didn’t. Instead, you continued to palm Dex’s growing erection through his jeans, thumb swiping across the growing wet spot where the leaking slit should be. His breathing was laboured, hot against your scalp as his hand flexed around your wrists. His grip on your throat was loosening, thumb coming up to drag across your lower lip.
If you could distract him long enough, then you could break free. That was the plan; use his attraction to you as an advantage, tease him long enough to have him let his guard down so you could escape.
Right.
Yes.
That sounded like a good plan.
Right?
So why could you feel your nipples hardening beneath your bra? And was Dex’s whiny, pathetic moans spurring you on? You could feel your cunt clenching around nothing, a damp heat beginning to flood the space between your thighs, goose bumps rippling across your skin at the way his breathing was shifting as he bucked into your hand.
Normal, you told yourself. My body’s just reacting, perfectly normal.
“Y/N,” He whispered, and it sounded broken. “Please.”
Oh, fuck.
You felt your chest tighten at how desperate he sounded.
Oh…was Dex a sub?
You found yourself screwing your eyes shut, trying desperately to will your body to just shut off and listen, to be scared of the situation, to be logical but Dex’s erection was full now and it was thick in your hand as your fingers traced the shape of it. Long, full, the kind that hurt you as they pushed into you, the kind that had you begging men to slow down as your nails sunk into their hips, the kind that had you squirming because of how good the burn was as they stretched you open.
But of course Dex was big. Of course the complicated, handsome, clearly somewhat insane man who was stalking you also had a huge dick.
And of course he was hard for you.
And of course he was panting and whimpering as he let his forehead fall against your shoulder, tongue lolling out as he lapped at your skin. And of course your name sounded sinful as his teeth grazed the gentle slope of your skin before he was biting into it.
“Ah, Dex!” You hissed, his canines sharp as they pressed into you. His only response was a breathy hum before his fingers were pressing against your lips again, gently tracing the shape of them.
“Open up.”
You didn’t mean to oblige, didn’t mean to moan softly as his fingers slid across your tongue, didn’t mean to have your eyes drift shut when he ground himself further into your hand. You didn’t mean to shiver when his lips pressed against your ear as you drooled on his fingers, didn’t mean to whine when he slid his tongue across your ear, or cry out when he pressed his tongue into your ear and started making out with it.
Oh, fuck-
Squirming didn’t help, didn’t sway him as he continued to lap at your ear, thumb hooked under your chin, two fingers pressing into your tongue as he kept you still for him. He was rutting gently into your hand, tongue wet and hot as it slid over the shell of your ear.
“I can’t even begin to tell you how many times I imagined what you’d sound like once I got my hands on you,” Dex’s voice was deep, breathy, shiver inducing as he spoke gently to you. “How many times I imagined it was me touching you while I listened to all the pretty sounds you make when you make yourself feel good.”
Your eyes snapped open, startled at the realization that Dex has been spying on you while at home. You struggled to speak against his fingers but Dex just tutted in response. “Mm mm,” He hummed, gently pushing your tongue down. “Stay quiet for me.”
The action had heat flooding your core. The lack of control had you sinking into his grip.
“I want to make you feel good,” Dex begged in your ear, nose brushing against your temple. “Please, Y/N, let me make you feel good.” He gently withdrew his fingers from your mouth, spit soaked and shaking slightly as he gently pressed them against your cheek. He was silent as he waited for you to respond.
You paused, heart hammering in your chest as you mulled over your options. Dex was buzzing behind you, acutely aware of the infinitely thin ledge he was currently toeing with you.
He only breathed a sigh of relief when he felt you shift to curl your fingers around his belt buckle and tug, hands still trapped behind you.
“Take these off,” You murmured and Dex swallowed, hand still wrapped tightly around your wrists. He couldn’t let go, fearful you’d run, his need to control control control overruling his desire.
Dex shuffled back half an inch, eyes dark as he began to fumble with his belt buckle. He was watching your hands flex in his grip, finger tips tracing the obvious bulge in his jeans as he struggled to pull the belt free. It took only a few moments despite the slight shake in his hands, before he was watching with bated breath as you pinched his zipper and tugged.
“Dex, help.”
He felt like he couldn’t focus, heart in his throat as he unbuttoned his jeans, watching the way you tugged the zipper down and pushed past the fabric, fingers slipping beneath the waist band of his briefs and then-
Dex should have been embarrassed at the sound that escaped him when your fingers wrapped around the thick shaft of his dick. He should have been embarrassed with how his hips jerked forward when your grip tightened, the weight of him heavy in your palm when you pulled his dick from his pants started jerking him off. He should have been embarrassed at how turned on he was watching your fingers trace the flushed tip of his cock despite the fact that he was still holding your wrists in his other hand, how your hands were still being held behind your back, how big his dick looked in your smaller hands, and how he couldn’t peel his eyes away when he started gently bucking into your grip.
“Dex.”
He realized you’d been gently calling his name and he whimpered, cock flexing.
“Hm?” He hummed, half lidded gaze lifting to the back of your head.
“Spit on it. Spit on my hand.”
His cock jumped in your hand at the lewd command and he damn near busted in that moment.
“Y-yes m’am,” He finally managed, tongue sliding across the back of his teeth before he was gathering his spit. It was filthy, the way it sounded as he tipped his head forward and spat onto the length of his cock and watched as it slid across your fingers. Even filthier still when you began to jerk him off again, using his own spit as lube.
Dex’s eyes snapped shut, head falling forward as he cried out, hips stuttering at the brutal pace you’d set. It was somewhat awkward, your hands still forced behind your back, the tip of his cock pressed against your ass, his free hand moving back up to wrap around your throat as you jerked him off. He was a mess, breathing laboured as he whined in your ear, soft gasps escaping him every time the edge of your tight fist caught the sensitive tip.
He wasn’t going to last long, not like this. Not with his face buried in your hair and the scent of your conditioner flooding his senses. Not with the way you were tightening your grip on him. Not with the way your own breathing had shifted, or how you were encouraging him to let go.
“That’s it Dex,” Your voice was so god damn soft, so you, so- “That’s it baby, does that feel good?”
He ruts forward at the pet name, fingers flexing around your wrists.
“Uh huh,” It’s breathy, needy. Embarrassing.
“Is this how you wanna cum?” Your voice is like honey, though somewhat condescending and Dex feels like he may keel over. His cock is unbelievably sensitive in your firm grip, the obscene shlick shlick sounds drifting upwards as you continue to tug on him, precum and his own spit mixing across the thick length and flushed tip.
“D-do I have a choice?” He manages, and he tilts his head forward, pupils blown wide as he stares down at your chest. Fuck, you look good.
He can hear the way you grin as you answer; “No.”
Dex can’t help himself, can’t help the way his hand shifts from your throat and slides down your chest, how he palms your tit through the flimsy fabric of your tank top, can’t help the way he tugs the cup of your bra down so he can let his fingers drag across your nipples. He can’t help the way he feels your arch in his grip, chest pressing into his hand when he pinches your sensitive peaks, or the way his grin turns sinister when your body so clearly responds to him.
He knew you liked him, knew you wouldn’t deny him, knew you were his. Filthy, desperate, needy, just like him. All his.
No one else deserved to have this, have you. You belonged with him, to him.
“That’s it,” His voice is soft, though the tone is almost cruel as he tugs your top and bra beneath your breast, pushing it free and leaving you exposed. He lifts his hand to your mouth once more and taps your lips, encourage you to open your mouth. You oblige, a soft sound of surprise escaping you when he forces his fingers into your mouth for the umpteenth time that evening. “Suck.”
You do, eyes drifting shut as your tongue slides across his thick fingers, cheeks hollowing as you suck him further into your mouth. You can hear the way Dex moans behind you, body sagging against you as he ruts more aggressively into your fist. Needy son of a bitch.
He pulls his fingers free from your mouth with a wet pop and you whine softly, though it’s replaced with a loud gasp when he begins to toy with your exposed nipple, coating it in your own spit.
“How’s that, hm?” His voice is barely above a whisper, blonde scruff dragging against the soft shell of your ear as he speaks. “Feel good?”
Your head falls back against his shoulder, grip tightening around his cock as you momentarily surrender to the pleasure. Dex shouldn’t have known these things, known exactly what got you going, but clearly he’d been stalking and watching you for far longer than you’d realized.
A particularly sharp tug has you gasping, eyes snapping open.
“Answer me.”
You nod, thighs clenching at the harsh treatment, before answering: “Y-yes Dex, it feel’sgood.”
“Good girl,” It’s a purr in your ear, his voice smooth as velvet as he continues to palm at your chest. Your eyes drifting shut, mouth falling open as Dex continues to fuck his cock into your slick fist, his grip still bruising as he holds your wrists. It was filthy, abhorrent, the way he seemed to be using you to pleasure yourself, and yet you found yourself growing needier, pussy soaked, as time wore on.
You moaned softly as Dex’s large, warm palm began to smooth down the expanse of your rib cage and over your stomach, fingers dipping into the waist band of your pants.
“This what you want, huh?” He asks, near breathless. You try to turn to him, to catch his gaze, but he’s got his chin on your shoulder, eyes glued to your arching body. “Filthy girl, so needy for me, pretendin’ she’s mad that I know her.” His hand slips below your jeans and you gasp, suddenly nervous. “That I need her.”
“Wait-” You startle, trying to straighten. “Dex-”
His fingers are suddenly sliding between the slick folds of your pussy and you cry out, startled by the sheer amount of slick to be found, and how fuckin’ sensitive you are.
You hadn’t realized how needy he’d made you feel until his middle finger was gently sliding over your swollen clit.
“Fuck!” It was a gasp as you arched, head pressing against his shoulder.
“Don’t try and stop me,” He snarls, and the animalistic gaze that meets yours when your eyes open should have scared you. You know that, that Dex should scare you shitless, but instead you find yourself clenching around his fingers as he pushes two into your aching cunt.
“Gah, Dex!” You nearly sob, fist tight around his dick as he begins pumping his fingers into you, palm pressed flat against your swollen clit, an embarrassing amount of slick now covering his hand and fingers.
Dex curses, hips jumping forward, before he turns to press his lips against your ear, merciless as he begins to work you open.
“I know you more than you know yourself,” It’s a growl, a warning. “Let me in. Let me take care of you.”
The pace is brutal, filthy, the wet sounds of his fingers pushing into you are obscene as they fill the dark expanse of your now messy apartment. You’re on the tips of your toes, back arching, head pressed into Dex’s shoulder as his palm pushes against your clit. Your breathing is laboured, whines and praise freely escaping you as Dex works you up faster than any man ever has.
“D-Dex!” It’s a warning, your thighs shaking, as you struggle to continue to pump his cock, eyes blurring with tears as your orgasm builds at an alarming rate. You want so desperately to continue to pleasure him, his cock unbelievably hard in your fist as he forces you to ride his fingers.
“That’s it pretty girl,” His voice is shaking with the effort he’s putting into making you cum on him. “Gonna watch you cum all over me, all for me, yeah? Isn’t that what you want? Do it, fuckin’ cum for me. All over my fingers-” He tilts his head, grinning as his lips brush against your ear once more. “Before I fill you to the fuckin’ brim with my cock. See how pretty you look when I stretch you open.”
His voice sends you over the edge with a loud cry, eyes squeezed shut as begin to shake in his firm grip, thighs desperately trying to close around his thick fingers. But Dex doesn’t slow, doesn’t stop as he continues his brutal pace, fingers pushing into your fluttering cunt.
“Keep touching me baby,” He pleads, breathless when he finally, finally, releases your wrists and wraps his hand around your throat again, keeping you pinned against him as he forces you to ride out your orgasm.
It’s overwhelming, overstimulating as you clench around his thick fingers, and you feel delirious when Dex is suddenly grunting in your ear, hot ropes of cum spilling across your hand and the back of your ass as he cums into your fist. He’s still pumping his fingers into you as he cums, whining in your ear as he ruts into your hand. You try, desperately to make sense of what’s happening, to gather your thoughts and do something, anything, as you come down from the high but instead you’re sinking against him, watching with bleary eyes as he pulls his hand from your jeans and-
God, you came so hard you fuckin’ creamed on his fingers and you can see it-
Dex’s pupils are blown wide, eyes half open as he pushes his fingers into his mouth and sucks them clean. He moans, eyes fluttering shut, tongue lapping at the digits like it’s the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted and it has you licking your lips.
Dex keeps his eyes on you as he hand slips back into your jeans, fingers lazily pumping into you for a few moments, ignoring the way you wince and cry out softly, before he’s bringing his cum soaked fingers to your lips once more. He taps them-
once.
twice.
“Open up.”
You do, moaning softly as he presses his fingers against your tongue once more, the sweet, salty taste of your cum flooding your senses.
“That’s it,” Dex coos, voice unbelievably soft as he urges you on. “Such a good girl for me.”
He gently pulls his fingers free from you then before resting them against your lips. You have only a moment of rest before Dex is suddenly kissing you, breath hot as he laps at his fingers that are still pinned between your mouths.
You groan, mouth opening as you lick at his spit and cum soaked fingers, your tongues dancing and lapping at one another’s and around his thick digits. It’s wet, needy and unbearably hot. Despite the fact that he’s released your wrists, you keep them behind your back, still holding his softening, cum soaked cock in your hands while you kiss around his fingers.
Dex pulls back after a while, breathing heavy, a thick line of saliva attaching his swollen lips to yours, his pupils blown wide as he watches you. There’s a long stretch of silence as you regard one another, your breathing levelling out as you relax in your stalker’s embrace.
“I will not share you.”
Unfortunately, you’re starting to like the sound of that.