Dexter was observant. He watches you, and quite closely at that. you're his girlfriend, almost 3 years in this coming March. He knows you, like his own brain. he knows your ticks, your tells, when you're lying, and when you're needy.
You're being a brat, have been all day. snapping off at Deb, closing the elevator on Batista, and blatantly ignoring Dex. he doesn't know what happened, he left for work this morning, with you, and everything seemed fine. Your behavior was causing unnecessary tension in the department, and it was throwing him off his game. he needed to fix it, fast. He can't have his angel baby upset, not now, not ever.
he calls out for you, peeking his head out from his office, just as you're about to say something that could cause a suspension. you turn around, head snapping with so much force he wonders if you might have whiplash. Dexter walks over to you, beckoning you to his office. you roll your eyes, annoyed at his attempt to calm you down.
you turn away, trying to move from him, but he doesn't let you. Dexter grabs your hand, turning you to face him, tits pressed tight to his chest. "My office, now. don't argue, don't fight, and don't whine." your mouth gapes open, nodding dumbly, head down as you follow him. you walk into his office first, pretending to look at the supplies to seem nonchalant, but failing as you jump from the click of the lock.
You turn, trying to explain yourself, to delay the inevitable. But Dexter only shushes you. you can see the way his eyes darken slightly, the way his lips press into a grim line as he looks you over, following you as you back up against a wall. the blinds are closed, you realize as you look over, trying to avoid his gaze, you're fucked.
"you're upset." you scoff, avoiding his eyes as they glare at you. "clearly. good job noticing the obvious." your sentence is meant to come out as a hiss, but it sounds more like a timid whisper. Dexter chuckles at you, a dark one full of mirth and irritation. it startles you a bit, watching as he smiles again. he moves, head tilting down as he forces you to look at him, hand squeezing your face so tight it brings you to tears.
"oh don't fucking cry now. You wanted this, you're an uptight, spoiled, bratty fucking princess who cant function if she doesn't get some dick in her within 12 hours." you're embarrassed, not just because everything he's saying is true, but because you're getting so fucking wet from how mean he's being to you.
Dexter kneels, forcing your legs apart as you squeal, right leg lifted onto his shoulder. he takes a sniff at your panties, watching how the wet spot on your panties stick to your lips. he kisses them, through the underwear, before licking a broad strip from your hole to your clit. he slips his tongue to your hole, letting it go in you as deep as the cloth will allow, then flicking his tongue in a rhythm that feels so good accompanied by the friction of your panties.
it 's overwhelming, burning pleasure shooting through every part of your body as your head tilts back against the wall, biting your tongue so he doesn't stop. He continues this, making out with your covered hole and bud of nerves, soaking the cloth and making you whimper and whine.
it's enough to feel so, so fucking good, but not enough to make you cum. he pulls back, letting your leg fall back down, your chest heaving as you almost slide down the wall. Dexter doesn't let you fall, catching you as you start to slip. he pulls you towards him, guiding you onto his desk as he slips his hand under the waistband of your underwear.
he rubs your clit, kissing from your ear to you collarbones, sucking a collection hickies that burn purple and red, before biting down so harshly that you're sure it'll bruise even more. Dexter's a sadist, this sadistic display of power and pleasure, is foreplay to him.
eventually, he gives you a break, kissing your lips before speaking again. "lift your hips." you hesitate, looking at him in confusion, "come on, be good for me angel. know you're smart to figure out what i'm gonna do." you oblige, following his direction as he pulls your underwear down. He wraps them up, twisting them into handcuffs as he forces your arms behind you, tying them with your arousal and spit soaked underwear.
he maneuvers you using your arms, so that you turned towards him now. Dexter flick your skirt up, kissing a cheek before harshly slapping it. He doesn't let up though, repeatedly hitting you, sometimes with so much force that you wonder if he's punching your ass just to fuck with you and your dirty moans.
he stalls for a second, and you wonder if you're done, before yo hear his belt buckle unlatch, and his tip, come into contact with your lips. he doesn't slip it in, no no no, this isn't a reward. and you both know that. it's a punishment.
he fucks your slit, rubbing his cock between your lips and letting his tip twitch against your clit. you squeal and whine at every movement he makes, not once daring to fight him. he forces your back down, making you arch against his desk table as he gets close. you're so close too, but he cums before you. it's groans and sighs from him, as you feel the warm sticky liquid drip onto your cunt.
Dexter lifts you up, kissing your forehead and wiping the tears and sweat from your face as he undoes the makeshift cuffs. he puts them back on you, rubbing your cunt so that the underwear stick to you and the cum.
Dexter sits you on his lap, letting your tremors die down as you rest your head in his neck, content. he feeds you a cookie, watching as you take every bite with a smile. you refuse a drink, but promise to drink soon. He knows you will, he watches you 24/7. He kisses you once more before patting your ass and letting you leave, before you open the door, on shaky legs, he calls out. "be a good girl, i'll take care of you later."
i think i'm 'bout to explode, i can taste the tension like a cloud of smoke in the air
pairing: dexter morgan x f!reader
warnings: hints of fluff, smut - unprotected sex, slight spanking (hand and belt), oral (f receiving), fingering, spitting, slight choking, biting, dom!dexter, blood (i mean, obviously, he's a freak); sassy dexter
summary: requested: "...morning sex with dexter before he goes to work..."
w/c: around 5k
a/n: your wish is my command. thanks for requesting! :)
You and Dexter were perfect for each other – or close enough. You loved his bluntness, his dry sense of humor (which wasn’t always humor) and his demons, whatever they were. You had your suspicions, but you had yet to muster the nerve to ask him directly about them. It was so frustrating, because you prided yourself on opening controversial or inappropriate topics. You kept telling yourself that you were just afraid of losing the tension between the two of you once you’d call him out on his nocturnal disappearances.
Some nights, he’d come home at an ungodly hour, collapsing into the bed beside you like gravity finally caught up with him. Occasionally, you’d wake to his stubble brushing your cheek as he laid kisses along your face. More often than not, you were too tired to make something out of it, and usually, you also assumed he’d just gotten off on something else, because he would sigh and nuzzle into you like he was still riding en endorphin rush.
You rarely engaged in a sex in the middle of the night, unless he demanded it. Once, you told him he could do whatever he wanted with you. Yours and Dexter’s sex life had its own intricate taxonomy: I am objectifying you right in this moment and want your body sex or my hormones are acting up sex. The list was long, really, but at the very top was something went wrong sex. That was your favorite, but too bad for you, because it wasn’t very often that you got to experience it. Dexter is very careful and focused most of the time. He doesn’t make mistakes. The bright side of that: you’d never ever get tired of it. Those nights felt like Christmas. No. Better than Christmas.
One evening, he came home earlier than usual (you weren’t even asleep yet). He was so angry. So frustrated. And you wanted to help. You set aside the book you were reading (it was about a woman who fell in love with a sociopath. safe to say, it was an intriguing read) when he stormed into the room. You crawled to the foot of the bed, watching his sharp movements with wide eyes as he took off his army green shirt.
You’d always imagined yourself grinding on him while he wore his uniform. And that time was no different. But that night wasn’t about you. It was about him. Well, partly.
“Can I help?”
“No.” his tone was clipped as he continued to move frantically around the room.
You weren’t sure if you should push his buttons. Your heart beat out of your chest from the nerves. Part of you thought maybe you should back off; the other part – it thrived on the uncertainty, the thrill of not knowing how far you could push before he snapped.
“I could make you something to eat…”
Horse shit. You couldn’t cook to save your life, and he knew that. But he just scoffed, the corner of his mouth twitching into a humorless smirk.
“How about a bath? I could light those lavender candles and throw in one of my bath bombs.”
“I said no.”
You were still kneeling on the bed, dressed in your checkered shorts and a spaghetti strap tank top. Trying to act as innocently as possible.
“Do you want–”
He finally charged toward you, cutting you off mid-sentence. “Do I need to spell it out?”
Finally. Bait taken.
You looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes, slowly rising to your knees. The top of your head barely reached his chin, forcing you to tilt your neck to meet his gaze.
You started placing kisses along his collarbone, trailing up over his shoulder and to his neck. Your hand rested on his chest, palm splayed over his heart.
“Any chance I can sub in for one of them tonight?” you murmured, your lips brushing against his skin.
His brows furrowed and then shot up. “Them?”
You felt the sudden quickening of his pulse beneath your hand. You nibbled on your lower lip as you nodded.
“Who’s them?”
Instead of answering, you tanhled your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck and pulled him down into a kiss. It was a reassurance, a promise that you’d always be there. Okay, maybe you did it because you didn’t want him to leave you. You didn’t want to activate a chain reaction.
He leaned into you, his hands sliding to your waist, holding you. When your lips parted, your forehead rested against his.
“You tell me, Dexter. Or don’t. I don’t care. But I want you to be happy. Do whatever you need to me if that’s what it takes.”
Pathetic? Most definitely. But who cares? He secretly loved it when you got like this – whiny, needy, entirely his.
His hand cupped your right cheek, his thumb brushing a faint vertical line against your skin, the nail scratching just enough to leave a fleeting mark. But his gaze darkened again, pupils dilating, like he was replaying unhappy memories.
He kissed you then – hard and insistent. His hand circled your neck, his thumb pressing just underneath your ear, while the rest of his fingers gripped the other side, his pointer brushing against your earlobe. Your hand instinctively shot up, clutching his forearm as if steadying yourself for what was coming.
Long story short, he fucked you that night, like never before. And since then, you’d been relying on your own version of Thorndike’s Law of Effect: if you wanted to ignite that fire in him, to get destroyed by him, you had to be a brat. Acting like you had control was the fastest way to make him prove otherwise. Sometimes you suspected he loved control more than he loved you. You’d told him that once, and he’d said you were being dramatic. Again. Well, you could still weaponize it.
The problem was, Dexter was otherwise a calm and patient boyfriend. He tolerated your antics with an almost infuriating ease, whether it was leaving the windshield wipers on long after the rain stopped or overbuying carrots at the farmer’s market only for him to help you eat the whole bowl of carrot salad. He even helped you find reliable owners for the stray cats that always “followed” you home. He was so good to you, and that’s why you always had to wait for something to go wrong. That’s when he was at his weakest and that’s when you struck.
Today’s the day. It was Friday and you didn’t have any classes, so you hadn’t set an alarm. You usually managed to wake up before 8 am – not too early, not too late. But this time, it wasn’t the sunlight or your internal clock that stirred you awake. It was the sound of chewing. Muffled munching, punctuated by the occasional scrape of a fork against a plate.
You cracked your eyes open, squinting as the golden rays of the early Miami morning sun flooded the room. You groaned softly and turned to look at the clock on the bedside table. 7:42. Acceptable.
Blinking the sleep away, you shifted your gaze to Dexter. He sat propped against the headboard on his side of the bed, a plate balanced on his lap, spearing pieces of egg and bacon with his fork before shoving them into his mouth.
What the fuck?
He never ate in bed. One time, when you’d brought a bowl of popcorn to share during a movie night, he’d almost thrown you out.
“I’m not a clean freak. You just can’t even drink out of a bottle without spilling it all over the place,” he’d said. Well, he wasn’t wrong, but you’d managed to convince him anyway.
Now, though? Now he was the one violating the sacred no-food-in-bed rule.
“Morning,” you mumbled, your voice still groggy as you reached for him.
He paused, registering your movement, and turned to you. His fork hovered mid-air as his gaze softened, just enough for him to take your hand and press a kiss to your knuckles. It was a gentle gesture, the grease from his lips lingered on your skin.
“Hey,” he said, offering a weak smile. His voice carried a strange edge too, almost shaky.
You watched him carefully, he turned back to his food and with a quick flick of the remote, he raised the volume on the TV you hadn’t even noticed was on.
The screen showed a reporter standing in front of a crime scene, her voice urgent as she rattled off details about a recent incident. They flashed an image of a man – the criminal – and then back to the reporter.
Your eyes darted from the TV to Dexter. His brow was drawn low, his stare almost predatory as he watched the broadcast. His jaw tightened and released, the muscles flexing as he chewed. Occasionally, his teeth ground together, producing a faint, grating sound.
He was in the mood. And it hit you.
He never ate in bed. He wanted you to provoke him. A slow smirk curled your lips.
“Careful, Dex. You might intimidate the reporter through the TV.”
His grip on the fork tightened and chewing came to an abrupt halt. He exhaled sharply through his nose, not amused.
“Not today.”
“Did someone leave a typo in their lab report or what?”
He stuffed the rest of his food into his mouth without so much as glancing at you.
“Drop it.”
“Oh no, did Masuka out-gross you again?”
The plate clattered onto the bedside table with a force that made you flinch. Before you could react, he was on you. In a flash, his hand gripped your cheeks, his face hovering dangerously close to yours.
“You think you’re funny, don’t you?”
That was easier than you thought.
“Funny? No. I think I’m just observant.”
His eyes narrowed, dark and unrelenting as he studied you. His grip on your cheeks tightened just enough to make your lips purse.
“Is that what you call running your mouth until you get yourself in trouble?”
You couldn’t help it. Even with his face inches from yours, his hand firm on your cheeks, you smirked. “Please, Dexter, you’re all bark and no bite.”
Now you were just being annoying. He was actually all bite and no bark. His jaw ticked anyway, a muscle jumping just beneath his skin. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your lips as his nose brushed against your cheek.
“You really want to test that theory?”
You tried to shrug, but his grip on you made the movement awkward.
The air between you was thick, electric. His eyes searched yours, and you finally saw that primal tweak of his.
Then, without a warning, he released your cheeks and grabbed your wrists, pinning them to the bed on either side of your head. His strength was effortless, his movement precise.
“If you don’t come at least four times until I have to leave for work, I’m not gonna let you come for four weeks at all.”
Shit. Four weeks is a long time. That’s a whole month!
“Now you’re setting ultimatums?”
“Your time is running out, you sure you want to talk back?”
And that was your cue to finally keep your mouth shut.
“Good girl.” He said, the words sending a jolt straight through you, and you became acutely aware of the wetness pooling in your sleep shorts.
“On your knees. Grab the headboard.”
You obeyed without hesitation, pressing your chest into the mattress as you shifted onto your knees, sticking your ass into the air. You felt the fabric of your shorts clinging to your slick pussy in a way that was both uncomfortable and relieving.
Dexter moved behind you, his hand brushing over your hips, the touch almost gentle before he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your shorts. He tugged them down, watching the material stick to your pussy, making his cock twitch in his pants. You squirmed under his fingers as they brushed against the skin of your thighs, leaving goosebumps in its wake.
“Jesus, you’re sopping wet. Am I even surprised?” He said, bringing his fingers to your cunt and skimming them along the center from your hole, down to your clit. As he grazed that little spot, you bucked your hips into his hand, only for him to retreat it and bring it down in a swift move, slapping your clit and sending a tingling into your stomach. You moaned, not expecting him to get rough so soon.
Then, he kneeled next to you. You were too afraid to turn your head, but you could see with your periphery vision the tent in his pants. He brought the middle finger and the ring finger of his left hand to your mouth, and you opened without hesitation, wrapping your lips around them as he slid them all the way in. For you, it was awkward from that position, the fingers hooked in the corner of your mouth, forcing it to tilt slightly.
Once he decided that they were wet enough, he removed them and the same arm reached under you, his forearm touching your stomach as his fingers, now slick with your saliva, reached your pussy. They slid between your folds with ease, the two fingers pinching your clit between, before rubbing circles into it.
The tension in your stomach coiled tighter with each movement. You squirmed under him, needing more than he was giving you, and he knew that. But when you started moving too much, he slowed, barely grazing the sensitive bundle of nerves.
“Dex,” you whined, your hips moving, trying to chase the friction he was withholding. But his only answer came in a form of a slap to your ass. Your mouth opened in a silent cry, and your hand instinctively let go of the headboard and reached for your cheek in order to sooth the pain. But before you could touch your own skin, his free hand was wrapping around your wrist, holding it high and causing your muscles to strain.
“Don’t make me tie you up. You don’t have time for that.”
You nodded in silent obedience, and you gripped the headboard again, focused on not letting go. His hand was still teasing your clit while his other hand reached from behind and played with your hole, your slickness sticking to his fingers. For a moment, he was enjoying the feeling of it, of you on his fingers. Then he spread the wetness up and over your asshole. He only teased your back entrance, returning to your pussy and plunging his fingers inside, making your grip on the headboard tighten, as well as your walls around his fingers.
Dexter’s fingers worked you expertly, curling upward to hit that spot inside you that made your eyes roll into the back of your head. The movements of both his hands were in sync, the combination driving you to the edge as he upped the pace, relentless and unforgiving his fingers thrusting deeper, while also pinching your clit harder and occasionally grazing a nail over it, sending shivers down your spine.
The room was filled with the sounds of your gasps, Dex’s occasional grunts and most importantly, the squelching sounds of your drenched cunt. You were almost embarrassed by it, and Dexter made sure you felt that shame.
“Listen to yourself. So messy.”
Your response was a broken whine, your body trembling as his fingers curled just right to hit that devastatingly perfect spot again and again and again. His other hand maintained its tormenting rhythm on your clit, switching between sharp pinches and soft, tantalizing circles as your juices dripped from your hole to your clit.
Your knuckles became white from the hold you had on the headboard, your focus on not letting go and letting go at the same time. The pressure pulled you further under, and when he felt you clench around him, he pressed harder, his fingers moving with even more intensity.
“You wanna come?”
“Yes,” you whined, your body shaking with the overwhelming sensations.
“Don’t forget your manners, sweetheart.”
The pressure was unbearable now, your release so close you could taste it.
“Please, can I come?”
“Go ahead.” He growled, his fingers resuming his relentless pace, the wave of pleasure hitting you like a tidal force, crashing through every nerve in your body. You cried out, your body convulsing with the intensity of your climax. Your thighs trembled and your grip on the headboard faltered, but you were quick to remember to hold on, otherwise he wouldn’t let you ride it out.
Dexter worked you through the aftershocks, his fingers slowing but still keeping you riding that high until you were an overstimulated mess beneath him. When he withdrew his hand, you thought he’d give you a moment to gather up, but instead, in a quick motion, he was behind you, spreading your ass and burying his face between your cheeks.
Your body twitched as you felt him press his tongue flat on your puffy clit, shaking his head from side to side before catching it between his lips and sucking on it. The stimulation too much, you even tried to pull away even though you didn't really want to. It was to no use anyway, he followed you and his hands pushed against the small of your back, limiting your movements. He kept sucking on your bundle of nerves, his nose nudging your wet opening.
The thought of him being this messy alone made you so fucking horny and needy, as if you weren’t at the maximum capacity to feel those things.
Dexter pulled another whine out of you when he tugged on your clit with his lips, pulling back until he let go with a pop.
“You get so fucking sweet when you’re on your on your knees.” He said before returning his tongue to your pussy, running it flat up and down your lips, spreading your cunt and mixing his spit with your juices before he slurped it all up.
Your hand itched to let go of the headboard and cover your pussy to give your swollen clit a rest, but you were afraid of what he might do if you disobeyed again.
Besides, eating you out was his favorite thing in the world, and bad things would happen if you deprived him of his favorite activities.
One time, he’d made you ride him for so long until it was physically impossible for you to lift your ass. He’d proceeded to call you lazy, and had you dared, you would have slapped him.
Now, too much was at stake. He flicked his tongue against your clit repeatedly before finding your entrance and plunging it inside, the wet muscle massaging your walls. He loved your taste, he loved how you squirmed, he loved how slick and sticky you were. And you loved how animalistic he was about it, and how he didn’t care that you were overstimulated.
He dragged his tongue in and out of you, and then finally, it returned to your clit, his teeth grazing the sensitive spot. And the slightly sharp sensation was all it took to send you over the edge again. Your pelvis twitched against him, his hands squeezing the flesh of your ass, dragging his nail against you aggressively and leaving red scratch marks behind.
You loved them more than bruises. You could get bruises anywhere, sometimes they appear, and you don’t even know how. That's a common knowledge. But chafed, irritated skin? You know exactly how it gets there. You remember it. It evokes memories.
He hummed against your hot, wet flesh, the vibrations only accelerating your orgasm. You mewled, almost screamed, but you didn’t want to seem overdramatic. Your cum spilled straight into his mouth and he drank it all down as if he didn’t want to waste a single drop. He caught it on his tongue, licking you through the orgasm. Your upper body felt so numb, while down there, it was like fireworks. And when you finally started coming down, he slowed down, laying kisses over your pussy lips and your butt and your thighs. You felt the wetness his mouth left behind, your slick slowly drying on your skin. It was almost comforting, feeling him be so soft. You felt like curling up to him, falling asleep in his embrace.
“Three to go. You think you can make it?” He asked, and you heard him move behind you, followed by the sound of his buckle as he removed his belt.
You looked at the clock. 8:02. You didn’t think you could, but even if you did, it was in his control. He was just manipulating you to think that it was yours. Or he was just mocking you. He knew you weren’t stupid.
“You think you can?”
The leather belt came down on your ass, to the same place he’d slapped before. You made a note about checking out that bruise later.
“You’re only giving me reasons to spank the shit out of you.” He said, dragging the belt across your ass, before touching the curved part to your pussy. Once it was gone, you waited for Dexter to hit you there too, but the blow never came.
“Let go of the headboard.”
Your brows furrowed, but your confusion quickly disappeared when he hooked the belt around your neck, yanking you upwards, your back against his chest and his clothed cock nestled between your ass cheeks.
You subtly ground against him, making him purr into your ear, which made you smirk. He gripped both ends of the belt in one hand, while his other arm snaked around your waist, his hand slipping under your tank top and squeezing your breast. The way he pinched and tugged on your nipple made you buck into him with more force, and he reciprocated, grinding against you, giving in to his own pleasure. Then his hand disappeared from your body and you heard the sound of him spitting into his palm, before he brought it to your pussy. As if you weren’t completely drenched. He knew you loved how disgusting the thought was. How lewd you felt when he did that.
For him, this was nothing compared to the things he did during his free time.
Then without a warning, he released one end of the belt, causing you to collapse face-first into the bed. He unbuttoned his khaki pants and pulled his cock out before grabbing your arm and turning you on your back.
You finally got a good look at him - strands of hair sticking to his forehead, his eyes dark framed by lashes that looked like he'd used an eyelash curler (something you envied him). You admired him. Not just for his look, though that part was obvious. He knew he had women turning their heads in his direction. But they didn’t know the brilliant mind beneath it all. He was so clever, so undeniably smart, and that was what truly excited you. That a neat man with a compartmentalized brain like his could get so messy when it came to sex. Like now, all sweaty, his cock leaking onto the sheets. Some of the precum probably landed on your cunt too. The thought alone sent another wave of pleasure building deep in your abdomen.
He leaned down, his tongue flicking into your pussy in one swift motion before crawling over you and capturing your lips in a kiss, making you taste yourself on his tongue. His hand slid to your neck, his thumb pressing firmly against your pulse point, making you aware of how fast your heart was pounding. You moaned into his mouth as he applied a touch more pressure for a split second, giving him the chance to slide his tongue deeper into your mouth. You sucked on it, tasting the tanginess that he'd collected from your lower lips.
Without warning, with just a sublte shift of his hips, he was inside you. A low moan escaped him as he felt the tightness of your walls, and you let out a soft whimper at the stretch. He didn’t move at first. He kept kissing you and his hand slid down your body, squeezing your boob again, rolling the nipple between his fingers. Lowering his head, he wrapped his mouth around your sensitive peak, sucking gently on your tit. Your fingers tangled into his hair, your nails scratching lightly against his scalp, pulling him closer.
His teeth grazed your sensitive nub, sending a jolt through you, and in one fluid motion, his arm snaked beneath you, lifting and sitting up as he pulled you onto his lap. He started thrusting his hips into you, holding you in place, his cock gliding effortlessly along your slick walls.
Leaning forward, his lips found your other breast, his tongue tracing lazy circles around your nipple before his mouth opened wide, taking in as much of your soft flesh as he could. You arched against him, your back curving as your hads pressed his face closer, your head tipping back in ecstasy.
He kept on fucking you, hitting that sweet spot inside of you that made you dizzy. He drove his cock into you, quickening the pace, a sign that he was getting close. His arms around you tightened and then suddenly, you felt a sharp pain originating in your breast and going straight to your pussy, making you clench around. He was fucking you hard and deep, and when you looked down, you saw him still latched onto your tit, his upper lip covered in crimson.
You felt the sting from the way he was sucking on you, and when he finally removed his lips from your breast, you saw red drops dripping down your breast, the blood leaking from the bite marks where his upper teeth sank into your skin. You were mesmerized by it, and you wanted more. You pushed his face back against your sore nipple and Dexter surprisingly didn’t argue. He licked the blood off you and sucked again while ramming into you. Your body shuddered, and finally your third finish was brought on by a couple of additional thrusts of his hips. Then he laid you flat on the bed and chased his own release. You pulled him up by the chin, meeting his lips in a sloppy kiss as he fucked you hard and fast until he spilled inside of you.
Once you both came down, he was lying on top of you. You wrapped your arms around him, squeezing him affectionately, because you were so content that he was there with you.
But you were yanked out of your dreamland when he rose to his feet, making your brows furrow.
“That was only three,” your tone couldn't be more confused, as he headed to the bathroom.
“Yeah, but I need to shower and pick new clothes to wear. Can’t go to work with your cum all over my pants.” He came back to the bedroom with a smile on his face, as if he just hadn’t fucked the shit out of you. “Last one’s on you.”
“On me?”
“Yes. Make yourself cum before I leave. If you don’t, you know the consequences.”
He gave you a quick peck on the lips before disappearing into the bathroom.
Asshole. He knew you’d lost the ability to make yourself cum shortly after you’d started sleeping together. But luckily, you had your stash of toys that might help you with your problem.
With the roll of your eyes, you rolled over and reached into your nightstand, but in that moment, he peeked from around the corner.
“Oh, and your hands only.”
“What? That’s not fair!”
His face dropped again.
“You want to tell me what’s fair and what isn’t?”
You slammed the drawer shut and fell on your back, your body bouncing on the soft bed.
“Good girl. And no cheating. I’ll keep the door open. If I so much as hear something else that isn’t your fucking scream, I swear you’ll have to work your ass off to make me let you come ever again. Understood?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
You hadn’t done this in a long time. It almost felt unnatural. But despite that, your fingers dropped to your clit, and you began pushing yourself over another edge. Or at least you tried. But it was pointless. You tried to squeeze your wounded breast to get that rush going, but it didn’t have that effect this time. It only made you sweaty.
He managed to finish his shower before you made yourself orgasm, obviously. When he entered the bedroom with a towel around his waist, he looked at you with feigned pity.
“Aww… Don’t tell me my baby needs a manual to get herself off.”
“Dex, come on. You know I can’t make myself orgasm,” you tried to reason with him, but he wasn’t going to budge.
“I can’t do two things at once, I’m only one person,” he argued, as if it was the most logical thing in the world. “This is for your own good. I gave you an opportunity to make it to four before I have to leave. It’s not my fault you’re not capable.”
You huffed, bringing your fingers to your pussy again, stuffing them inside yourself and trying to fuck yourself, but again, to no avail.
He even laughed at you, and when you opened your eyes, you saw him already with his work bag slung over his shoulder, hands casually tucked in his pocket. You’d lost.
“Fuck, I wish you could see yourself. So desperate. It’s like your world has been destroyed.”
“It kinda has.”
He came to your side of your bed where you were still lying with your hand between your legs. He leaned over you, brushing the hair that stuck to your forehead and placing a soft kiss there.
“Take that as a lesson. You shouldn’t take a bait if you can’t handle the hook.”
And with that he turned on his heel and left, leaving you wrecked and messy, the most agonizing four weeks of your life just now beginning.
a/n2: i'm thinking it's kinda more vanilla than i intended it to be, but oh well... thank you for reading!!
