أطياف

He pressed against the seam of your cotton underwear, the fabric soft and worn from too many washes. You shifted in your seat, thighs pressing together for a moment before relaxing again. A little sigh escaped you, barely audible over the hum of the engine.

“Ben,” you murmured, not quite a protest. Ben, instead of Dex. A peculiar habit of yours.

“S’okay,” he said. “Just relax.”

You did.

He pulled into the parking lot of your office building and killed the engine. Before you could reach for the door handle, he cupped your chin and turned your face toward him. He pressed a kiss to your left cheek, then your right, then the tip of your nose. You giggled, a shy little sound that made his grip tighten on your jaw.

“Turn your head,” he murmured.

You did, obedient and trusting, and he kissed you properly. Slow. Thorough. His tongue traced the seam of your lips until you opened for him with a soft, surprised sound. He tasted the mint of your toothpaste and the faint sweetness of the orange juice he’d poured for you an hour ago.

When he pulled back, your eyes were glassy. Your lip gloss was ruined.

“Good girl,” he said. “I’ll pick you up at five. Don’t wander off.”

You nodded, dazed, and stumbled out of the car.

He watched you until you disappeared through the revolving doors.

The evening was warm, the last dregs of sunlight painting the city in shades of amber and rose. He was waiting for you outside your building when you got off the bus, because of course you’d forgotten he was picking you up. You’d taken the bus instead of waiting. You apologized three times on the walk up to your apartment, and he hushed you each time, thumb stroking the back of your hand.

“I’m not mad,” he said, and meant it. He wasn’t mad. He just made a mental note to pick you up directly at your desk tomorrow.

Inside your apartment, he settled on your worn-out couch while you kicked off your heels with a groan of relief. He’d stopped at the corner store on his way over and picked up a cone of ice-cream, your favorite, and he held it out to you now like an offering.

“For being good,” he said.

Your face lit up. You padded over to him, barefoot now, and reached for the cone. He caught your wrist and tugged you down onto his lap instead.

“Dex!”

“Go on,” he said, nodding at the ice cream. “Eat it before it melts.”

You straddled his thighs, knees sinking into the couch cushions on either side of his hips. Tentatively, you leaned forward and licked a stripe up the side of the cone. A bead of melted cream dripped onto your fingers, and you hurried to catch it with your tongue.

He watched, enraptured. The way your lips pursed. The flicker of your tongue. The blissful flutter of your lashes.

His hand found the hem of your skirt again, but this time there was no barrier of a car console, no steering wheel to work around. Just the warm give of your thighs and the damp cotton between them.

You gasped when his fingers slid beneath the elastic, ice cream momentarily forgotten.

“Keep going,” he coaxed, and you did, shaky and distracted, licking at the cone while he pushed two fingers inside you. You were already wet. You were always so responsive, so ready for him, even when you didn’t realize it yourself. Your hips twitched, trying to rock into his hand, and he tutted softly.

“Easy. Let me take care of you.”

You whimpered, head dropping forward, and a dollop of ice cream splattered onto his shirt. You made a mortified little noise, but he only laughed, low and fond.

“Messy girl. That’s alright. I’ve got you.”

He curled his fingers, thumb circling your clit with practiced precision. Your mouth fell open, cone tilting dangerously in your grip. He reached up with his free hand and steadied it, guiding it back to your lips.

“Don’t waste it.”

You took a shaky lick, then another, and then you were coming apart on his fingers with a broken moan, your body clenching and fluttering around him. He worked you through it, murmuring praise against your temple, his lips brushing your skin with every syllable.

“That’s it. Good girl. So good for me.”

The ice cream was melting properly now, dripping down the cone and over your knuckles, but you didn’t seem to notice. Your eyes were half-lidded, your breathing ragged. He took the ruined cone from your hand and set it aside on the end table, licking the sticky residue from your and his own fingers.

Then he lifted you, just enough to free himself from his jeans, and guided you back down onto his cock.

The sound you made was his favorite thing in the world. A high, breathy keen that caught in your throat and stuttered into a moan. He let you sink down at your own pace, hands steady on your hips, watching your face the whole time. Your brows pinched. Your lips parted. Your eyes squeezed shut and then flew open again, meeting his.

“There you go,” he breathed. “Taking me so well.”

He started slow. Gentle bounces that barely lifted you off him, just enough to feel the drag of you, the slick heat. Your hands found his shoulders and clung. Your skirt bunched around your waist, pale blue fabric crushed between your bodies.

When you squirmed, restless, impatient, chasing something you didn’t know how to name, he tightened his grip and snapped his hips up harder. You cried out, nails digging into his shoulders.

“Uh-uh,” he crooned, kissing the corner of your mouth. “You squirm, you get it harder. That’s the rule.”

You squirmed again, on purpose this time, testing.

He grinned against your cheek. “Oh, you want it harder, sweetheart?”

You nodded frantically, and he gave it to you, bouncing you on his cock with a rhythm that had the couch creaking and your breath sawing out in sharp, punched-out gasps. He felt you tighten around him, fluttering on the edge, and he pressed his thumb to your clit again, a quick, relentless pressure that sent you tumbling over.

You came with a sob, burying your face in his neck, and he followed a moment later with a low groan, spilling into you while you trembled in his arms.

He stroked your back through your rumpled blouse, tracing the knobs of your spine.

The ice cream was a puddle on the end table. He’d clean it up later.

“You did so good,” he murmured into your hair. “My sweet girl. See how much easier things are when you let me take care of you?”

You nodded against his throat, boneless and pliant. He smiled, slow and satisfied, and held you tighter.

he didn’t move. didn’t blink too much. just stared at the way your eyelashes fluttered with dreams, how your lips parted slightly when you breathed out that little sigh every few seconds.

his fingers twitched like he wanted to reach out and brush a strand of hair from your forehead, but he didn’t dare. scared you’d wake up. scared the moment would break.

he memorized everything - the curve of your cheek, the way your nose scrunched just slightly. a quiet warmth bloomed in his chest. the fact that you trusted him enough to sleep right beside him while he stayed awake watching over you like some guard dog.

the moment your breathing changed, shifting from deep sleep to soft wakefulness, dex held his breath. he hadn’t meant to disturb you, but instinct had taken over: one arm slowly curling around your waist, gently pulling you back into him.

his chest pressed lightly against your back as he spooned you from behind, careful not to squeeze too tight. the warmth between you two was immediate and his heartbeat thudded in his ears.

“is everything okay?” your voice came out drowsy and sweet. he felt something melt inside him.

"yeah," he murmured, low and tender, different from his usual voice. "everything's okay."

unexpectedly, dex pressed a soft kiss to the side of your neck, just below your ear. his lips were warm and gentle as they trailed down along your skin, feather-light at first like testing waters but quickly growing bolder when you didn’t pull away or protest.

one hand slid slowly up under the hoodie you were wearing, fingertips grazing bare skin with careful strokes. his touch was curious but worshipful as if every inch of you was something sacred worth memorizing by heart.

his fingers traced the curve of your shoulder, then down your arm, mapping every dip and softness like he was committing it to memory. when his hand reached yours - he laced your fingers together gently.

then he shifted closer. with slow, deliberate movements, like you were something fragile and precious, dex turned slightly and pressed himself fully against you from behind. chest flush to back now, one leg hooking lightly over yours under the blankets.

he kissed a new spot on your neck, a little lower this time and exhaled softly there before leaving another kiss right after. each touch was tender but growing needier by the second. the space between you vanished completely as he pulled you even tighter into him.

his breathing deepened as his warm hand moved upward. fingertips brushed over your collarbone first, then hesitated for just a heartbeat near your chest.

every movement was careful, reverent even as if he were touching something infinitely valuable. his palm flattened gently against you through the thin fabric of the hoodie, applying soft pressure like a question rather than an assumption.

then he kissed you again and at the same time let his thumb trace slow circles right over where his heart was racing against yours.

"dex..."

his fingers slipped fully under the hoodie now, warm fingers meeting your body as his hand glided upward, past your stomach, over your ribs. the fabric bunched slightly around his wrist as he moved.

palm open and tender again, dex let his hand rest gently over you, skin to skin, and a shiver ran through him. you were soft and plush under his touch.

he didn’t grab or squeeze; instead he cupped slowly, the curve fitting perfectly in the shape of his large palm and began moving with delicate pressure: thumb brushing lightly across sensitive skin while kissing down from your neck toward that spot where shoulder meets collarbone.

his touch turned firmer. dex began gently squeezing your breasts through his careful palm movements: soft presses at first, then rhythmic little kneading motions like he was trying to memorize the feel of you.

each squeeze sent warmth radiating between you both - his heartbeat thudding faster against your back - and his kisses grew hungrier down your neck and shoulder.

he wasn’t being greedy or pushy; every action was still loving in its own way. tender even as it became more intimate. but there was need there too - an ache building quietly inside him that made his breath come out warmer, heavier with each exhale against your skin.

his hands moved with more familiarity now, no longer hesitant, but still worshipful in their touch. dex cupped each breast fully this time, thumbs circling slowly before focusing on your nipples, rubbing small circles at first, testing your sensitivity.

seconds after, his fingers pinched lightly, but enough to tease; rolling softly between thumb and forefinger while his other hand kept massaging the opposite side.

you could feel the firm press against your backside as dex held you close. he was completely hard now, a thick ridge straining through his sweatpants where his hips naturally curled into yours.

he didn’t try to hide it or pull away; there was no shame in him. the tension in his body had shifted: every breath came deeper, slower with restraint - but obvious arousal hummed beneath the surface. when you subtly shifted adjusting without meaning to, it sent a jolt straight through him. dex bit down softly on your shoulder before kissing over the spot apologetically.

"mm… I’m sleepy," you mumbled, voice thick with drowsiness, your body going heavier against the pillows as exhaustion tugged you back toward dreams.

a soft whine almost escaped him at your words. he hesitated for only a second before pressing closer again, his arms tightening around your waist and then slowly, carefully began to grind his hips back once against yours.

just a little roll of his pelvis through the fabric; testing if maybe you’d wake up enough to respond. one hand still lazily kneaded your breast while he kissed along your jawline: slow pecks followed by open-mouthed ones that were more breath than lips.

you turned around fully this time, twisting in his arms with a suddenness that surprised even him and your mouth crashed into dex’s.

your lips parted wide, desperate and open-mouthed, kissing him like you’d been wanting this all night without realizing it. tongues met clumsily at first, warm and eager but quickly found rhythm: sliding together in messy, hungry exploration.

dex gasped softly against your kiss; caught off guard by the intensity of it but he didn’t pull away as both hands immediately flew to cup your face. his thumbs stroked along your cheeks while his lips moved frantically over yours: kissing back just as desperately.

the kiss deepened, messy and breathless. your lips clung to his like you couldn’t get close enough; teeth accidentally brushing in the heat of it before tongues tangled again.

dex made a low sound in his throat as he kissed you back harder. one hand stayed cradling your face while the other slipped down to grip your shoulder, then slide around to press firmly against the small of your back.

he pulled you flush against him as much as possible, the space between gone now and tilted his head just slightly so your mouths could align perfectly.

his breathing came fast and shallow through flared nostrils; every exhale warm on damp skin when you briefly broke apart for air.

"dex, we should sleep, have to get up early tomorrow"

he stilled instantly, lips parting from yours, breath catching in his chest. for a second, he just stared at you: eyes wide and slightly dazed, lips swollen from kissing.

his body screamed no, every nerve still buzzing with warmth and want but the logical part of him knew you were right. still, it took everything in him to nod slowly instead of arguing or begging for five more minutes.

"yeah," he whispered hoarsely, voice thick with restraint and maybe disappointment too but not frustration toward you. he tucked your head back against his shoulder and adjusted the blanket over the both of you.

the room settled into quiet again. just the soft hum of the AC and moonlight painting stripes across the bed. dex shifted carefully, curling around you like a human shield. one arm stayed wrapped firmly around your waist while his other hand rested near your face, fingertips lightly brushing your hair every now and then.

dex pressed one last kiss at your temple. the rhythm of your breathing synced first, slow, even inhales and exhales that deepened as sleep pulled you under. he felt the exact moment your body went fully relaxed against him.

By the end of the bath your tired, chest to chest, your breath matching his, your head on his shoulder looking up at him. Hes handsome as ever, the scars going up his face and across his nose, to the ones on his body that hide beneath tattoos, cigarette hanging from his lips as his hand trail up and down your back. Simon admires you— well he never really takes his eyes off you, he’s more than enchanted by you— the likes the hickies he’s left behind. They all look like flowers coming to bloom. Sometimes he wishes he wasn’t as rough with you, but he knows it’s just as good for him as it is for him. And you’d never hesitate to say your safe word if anything for astray. Your hand comes to the back of his nape, caressing him right where the blonde hair is.

He jokes, taking the cigarette from his lips and puffing it into the air. “Comforting your old man, hm kitten?”

You nod, gently leaving a kiss on his shoulder, “You need it too Pa.”

And his heart swells full, God he loves you, can never get enough of you. He hums, leaving multiple pecks to your forehead and temple, “thank you baby.”

You don’t remember getting in bed after that, or when Simon out the lotion and ointment on your bruises, but he’s holding you closes by he end of it, patting your back to sleep, mumbling, “love you my precious girl.”

his breathing does falter though, when you tell him "this is gonna sting" moments before pouring antiseptic over his open wounds

instead of flinching at the sharp sting, the only visible reaction from him is a slight tic above his mouth, an almost pleased but still quiet “mmph” sound emanating from his tight lipped smile

dex is in a state of elation as you stitch him up, his stomach progressively pooling up with heat at your proximity, his infatuation for you nearly bursts out from the constraints of his chest as he stares, and on top of it all you continue to rub or pierce at his tender and bruised flesh like you don’t even know what its doing to him

you being the one to inflict pain on him (even if its on accident) never fails to make dex’s mind reel with adrenaline and well… devastating want

the moment your teeth finally rips the thread you were using to stitch his last wound up dex sits up so alarmingly fast, his mouth aiming and landing directly on yours, his filthy hands reaching to lift and sit you between his crassly, almost disrespectfully wide opened legs

he kisses like he's starved for it, grunting against your lips when you squeal at the metallic taste of blood clinging to his mouth, his lips still gnashed open because of the hard blows that were inflicted on his damn pretty face

"dex, your wounds-" you mumble in between wet, messy kisses, feeling kinda angry at him for being so adamant on undoing your hard work "they're gonna split open again if you keep moving like that"

good, dex thinks

i want them too, he laughs outwardly at the continuing thoughts inside his head, the airy and mocking sound exhaled straight into your mouth

he thinks he could keep bleeding if it means he gets to watch you patch him up all over again, maybe he'll slice open new wounds just so it takes you longer to finish, to make the rawness and pain on his skin all the more worse for himself, the thought makes his cock twitch inside his pants

"dex im serious-" you say, but theres a shaky, heated quality to you voice, like the mere taste of him, his mind bending intensity and the feeling of his blood stained chest against your bare palms is easing you slowly into forgetting and dismissing his ‘delicate’ predicament

"i know you are” he says simply, separating from your mouth so he can lift a teasing brow at you, but right away his hands are moving your hips to place you on top of him, aching to feel your heat sitting right over the rough black fabric of his clothed (now painfully hardened) groin, guiding you to wrap your thighs completely around him

when you start to keenly whine in response to the rough, hardened friction dex smiles against your mouth, his teeth clanking into yours, he loves that you’re the one who’s always on the losing side when it comes to this part, that you always fall victim to his dizzying and aggressive pace

he still relishes on you putting up a fight though, he loves the push and pull before you inevitably give in to him like he always does with you

you grab the hair at the back of his head in frustration and pull, making his neck crane backwards until he can no longer access your lips, you do it so abruptly and forcefully its evident that you failed to consider the soreness and tenderness of his muscles

so of course dex hisses at the pain, his mouth still wet with your saliva and his blood, he spits out an aggresive “uungh, f- uck!”

“oh shit! baby- i- im so sorry i didn’t think it would-” you’re quick to mumble out the worried apologies, searching his face frantically, looking for any sign that could indicate you hurt him far beyond what he could tolerate, what he can stand

the truth is, so so far from that actually