Batshit Crazy

"i need absolution. i've betrayed people. i've betrayed myself."

his voice skittered across your skin like a flat stone across still waters. the hairs raised on the back of your neck.

your kind eyes widened as the large man turned around to face you, sporting a knife between his fingers. the flickering candlelight from the altar distorted his features slightly, but you made out a wide, jagged scar across his right cheekbone. his brow made a crease in his forehead as curious, fiery eyes studied you. he was in his late thirties or early forties, years decorating his skin. you tried not to entertain the thought that he was handsome.

"can you absolve me of my sins?"

you cleared your throat, heartbeat thrumming in it. "uh, i'm afraid only priests can do so—"

the stranger grinned something wicked, still spinning the silver weapon expertly in his hands. he held it out into the rays of light to purposely catch your gaze. "i'm not too picky."

your eyes stole to the confessional tucked away along the right wall of the church.

"yes. somewhere quiet."

he lumbered toward it, steps heavy on the marble floor like his skeleton couldn't handle the amount of muscle on his body. you followed dutifully, still on your guard given the presence of the knife.

it was late in the evening, almost morning, so the church was mostly empty save for a few lost souls remaining scattered among the pews. the sun had set hours ago, so only the candlelight from the altar lit the room, reflecting off the stained glass windows pleasantly. this was typically when you'd come to pray, but as you were a novitiate, you could use all of the guidance opportunities you could get.

your hand closed around the knob of the left side door and turned, pulling it open to be hit in the face with the scent of myrrh. you nearly coughed, instead letting out a gasp when the stranger slipped in the left side compartment behind you.

"don't worry, i closed the other door."

the smirk on his face stretched too easily. if you weren't nearly a nun, you were certain you'd have put hands on him.

"excuse me, sir, you must go—"

a raised thick eyebrow silenced you as he turned fully towards you. "ain't going anywhere, sister."

you sighed, realizing defeat, and sat down on the bench cushion a few feet away. "i'm not a nun yet. you needn't call me 'sister.'"

"that's why you're in white?" dex remembered sister maggie's black veil well.

you nodded, gaze falling to your twiddling fingers. your veil was stark white, contrasting to the rest of your benedictine black habit, covering your hair and ears to promote modesty. it also signified that you hadn't yet taken your final vows as a nun.

"what brings you to our congregation seeking penance?"

you met his eyes, peering up through your bare eyelashes, and dex's rusty heart stumbled in his chest. after weeks of watching you from afar, he was stunned close up. the tip of the knife he was playing with sunk into his left index finger and he barely registered the pain, entranced by your natural beauty and sincerity.

dex was acutely aware of the amount of space he took up in the confessional room. quite frankly, it was most of it. he loomed over you, craning his neck to fit into the room properly.

something about the way you were looking up at him from your seat had dex's buzzing mind wandering toward desire — something he rarely indulged himself in.

christ. a nun, dex? really?

the taboo of it all had dex's blood pumping faster in his veins. he cleared his throat. "i wish to be free of this guilt."

"guilt for what, mr…?"

"call me dex," he said, moving a few inches further into the confessional. his scent invaded your nose: a clean, woodsy, musky fragrance.

the red and black gems clinked together on the silver rosary chain as you clenched your left fist tight around it, making the sign of the cross over your chest. you kissed your fist, eyes closed, murmuring a silent prayer to st. teresa of calcutta for guidance to help serve others. she had never led you astray before. you willed yourself to take a steady breath and look dex in the eye.

"how does this go…?" dex trailed, baiting you to give him your christian name. you gave it willingly, voice dancing along the incense-threaded air. he repeated it, chewing on it like sinful bubblegum.

you crossed your legs at the sound, squeezing your thighs together, creating accidental, delicious friction under your skirts. with your hands folder over the top, you were certain it went undetected.

you didn't know benjamin poindexter.

he certainly knew you.

dex's eye twitched with the effort of remaining still. his gaze — now hooded — dragged slowly, intentionally, from your clasped hands up your torso, as if he could see straight through the black scapular and habit that covered your holy skin. you felt exposed; laid bare for his hungry eyes to behold you.

clearing your throat, you felt a stubborn blush creep up your neck as dex's focus reached your face.

"t-typically, in confession, a priest will sit on this side while the patron receives penance from the attached room." you gestured to the screen that separated the rooms on the left wall.

"why would i want to go in there to repent when the pretty girl who's gonna save my soul is in here?" he asked, a wild glint reflecting in his eye.

you let out a nervous laugh, blush creeping higher and higher.

dex fell to his knees like a sack of bricks and you swore you heard them crack against the wood floor beneath the worn persian carpet. he held out the small throwing knife to you with both hands in offering, desperately blinking up at you. your delicate fingers closed over his, softly folding over the blade edge as if he were trustworthy.

your sweet voice was melodic in dex's ears. "you'll begin with: 'forgive me, father, for i have sinned.'"

he swallowed, watching your carotid pulse in your neck a little too attentively. his pink tongue darted out to wet his lips, a smirk growing on them. he couldn't believe his own boldness.

"forgive me, father," he repeated with a deep sigh, near short of breath, mind far from christ, "for i have sinned."

"when was your last confession, dex?"

"i've never had the honor, sweetheart," he chuckled, smirk widening at the thought. "you'll be taking my confessional virginity."

your complexion burned shades darker, averting your bashful eyes at his insinuation. your voice squeaked when you spoke.

"oh, okay, well in that case, you may state that for his lordship's ears."

"gladly." you got a perfect view of his muscular throat as dex's head tilted back, adam's apple bobbing. you'd reprimand yourself later for wondering what it might feel like under your lips. "it's my first time, big 'G'. thanks again for sending me your loveliest angel."

dex threw you a charming wink and your lips twitched into a smile.

"i-i thank you f-for your kind words," you stammered.

dex's hands, brandishing the knife and holding your own with a grip you could've escaped, eased into your lap. his chest brushed your knees from his position kneeling on the floor, only centimeters apart now.

"forget about it."

a beat passed. "and if i don't want to?"

another stretch of silence. this time longer, as dex tried to wrap his mind around the situation he found himself in. his greenish gaze bore into yours, flaying you alive layer by layer. a long-forgotten, now-forbidden feeling stirred in your core.

"then don't."

the air in the compact room seemed to still, as if bating it's breath in anticipation. you could hear your heartbeat in your ears.

"i won't," you whispered, reaching out cautiously to trace his cheek scar. dex froze, soaking in the feeling of your warm, soft, little fingers dancing patterns on his abused skin. he couldn't breathe — not with you touching him, looking at him like he mattered. you could tell he wasn't used to grace.

"tell me your sins, baby," you coaxed softly, comforting him the best way you could think of.

a quiet groan slipped from that back of dex's throat before he could stop it, one of raw pleasure from the pet name.

"hnn…fuck."

"language," you challenged with a dignified, raised brow, despite the disgraceful wetness dripping onto your panties.

"yes, ma'am," dex responded, vast shoulders straightening slightly. his voice rumbled through you deliciously. your knees pressed into his abdomen with how close he leaned now.

benjamin poindexter's eyes flickered back and forth between your kissable lips and the ornate crucifix carving in the wall behind you, and that was the moment he was certain he was going to hell.

you cleared your throat, shifting in your seat again, trying to subtly relieve the tension between your thighs. dex, with his hawk eyes, saw every movement for exactly what it was.

and it was true what they said about him: he did get obsessed fast.

"my sins…" he mused.

"tell me," you prodded eagerly, eyes wide open in youthful anticipation. "tell me the first one that comes to mind."

dex's blonde brows knit together as if he were in pain, leaning into your hand. "wanna kiss you."

your mouth made an "o," plump lips giving dex horrific ideas. you swallowed slowly, feeling sweat begin to bead under the heat of his gaze. shame gnawed at your ankles like a stray animal.

dex pulled you by the wrist within an inch of his face. "now, you can be honest. you can confess. d'you wanna kiss me, sweet girl?"

your teeth sunk into your fat bottom lip in indecision, guilt paralyzing you. what would god think?

"yeah, that's it, i know you do. you can say it, honey. it won't leave this room. you can say you want me, too, 's alright."

a pitiful, borderline-submissive "yes" fell from your divine mouth and dex felt religious all of a sudden. a sick smile settled on his handsome face, eyes fluttering shut in a moment of absolute peace. he was on the righteous path—he was certain.

with no warning, his mouth swept yours up in an exchange of breath and lips and teeth and tongue. you moaned into the kiss — by god, when was the last time you were properly kissed?

the hand you had on dex's cheek slid back into his graying-blonde hair, fingernails gently scratching his scalp. he steeled himself to hold back a moan.

you broke away first, fingers wrapped in rosary ghosting over your swollen lips like a salve. "shit."

dex laughed.

a real, honest-to-christ-himself laugh.

and when the light caught his white, bunny-like smile just like that as he glanced back to you, cupid released his bow, and you were done for.

"tell me," dex's straight nose nudged yours, teasing, "how about you pray for us while i kiss your neck a little?"

"yes." the word tumbled out and you couldn't have stopped it. you were blushing to your hairline by now.

god help you.

dex grinned, highlighting his handsome crows' feet. before you could blink, he switched your positions, so you were now sitting on his lap and he was sitting on the confessional cushion. with no room on the sides to settle properly, your knees bit into his tree-trunk thighs. you heard the thunk of the knife as it fell onto the carpet.

he wasted no time before his lips were back on yours and your head was spinning. your lips clashed together, mouth opening wider so his tongue could dip in and explore. you whined softly into him as an experiment, feeling dex's hold on your waist get tighter, lips get hungrier.

dex's sinful mouth tore across your jaw with abandon. you unconsciously ground your hips against his rhythmically. his cock stirred, already half-hard. shame had you nearly in tears, the stimulation from grinding only adding to your frustration.

he groaned against your delicate skin, tongue licking and swirling, teeth skating and biting over the sweet spot on your neck he found. you arched your chest into his frame.

his whispered plea traveled straight to your cunt, "pray, baby."

you squeezed the rosary beads around your left hand — an anchor of reality — as you looked up and begged st. francis to forgive you on behalf of god. surely he knows better than anyone that you're simply following god's path as it's been laid out for you.

"o-our father, who art in heaven, h-hallowed be thy name."

your voice wavered with pleasure, though somehow not missing a beat even when mischievous fingers teased the hem of your skirt, flirting with your ankle.

"thy kingdom come." a shaky breath loosed through your chest.

"thy will be done, on earth as it is in h—" you bit the inside of your cheek to suppress a moan at the friction against your core, exhaling sharply through your nose. dex smiled against your tender skin. "heaven."

"…'and lead us not into temptation,'" he chorused with you, kissing and suckling just below your ear.

"'but'…what?" dex cooed patronizingly, kitten-licking your earlobe. you were a mess in his arms, purely pliant for him to use and you both knew it.

your traitorous lower lip wobbled as you finished the prayer with him:

"but deliver us from evil. amen."

his cock throbbed below you and dex pulled his leeching mouth off you. a chill raced down your spine at the way his blown pupils drank you in, getting a glimpse of the thing that shifted just beneath his skin and near-black eyes.

you didn't flinch, dex noted.

the calloused fingers playing at your ankle dragged upward, slipping under the fabric and ghosting over your nylon-covered skin, testing the waters. your lashes fluttered shut at the sensation, a gasp stealing into your lungs.

"i confess," dex sighed, "i want more than your lips."

your eyes shot open, brow furrowed in confusion. why? what could he want from you?

before you could raise your concern, dex's hand trailed up your calf, sending electricity through his touch. you were breathless as you maintained eye contact with him, noses inches apart, breathing the same air. your skirt bunched around your waist as dex burrowed further under it, dragging his enormous hand over your knee. your blasphemous core churned and you ground down onto his zipper. the metal bit into your cunt, pulling a moan that sounded like angels singing from you. dex grinned in triumph, climbing higher on your thigh until he reached the lacy edge of your stockings.

his hawk eyes snapped to your thigh, a slow, wolfish smile gracing his features. he looked back up at you without raising his head, words low and broken in your ears.

"tell me you're wearing a fucking garter belt."

he reached the strap connecting the alleged belt to your stockings and hummed down at you, like you were food to play with. a finger slipped between the strap and your smooth, holy skin, and pulled it away just far enough to snap back against your skin audibly.

fth.

it echoed loud — too loud — in the confessional. you bit a sigh as he soothed the reddened skin with brushes of his thumb.

"i may be," you whispered, inhaling sharply as he released the taut strap against your thigh again.

fth.

"fuck," dex sighed, nearly vibrating in restraint. he crashed his mouth to yours before he did something he probably wouldn't regret.

dex's lips were suffocating on you, not realizing his punishing intensity, but dutiful as you were to your congregants, you took what he was willing to give. his rough grip on your plushy thighs would certainly leave bruises in it's wake, but desire had you drunk enough that you couldn't care less.

his soul needed this. you could feel it.

perhaps it truly was god's will that brought the two of you together.

that's what you told yourself over and over again, trying to drown out the whine that stretched through the silence when dex pushed your hips away from his and slipped his hand the remaining distance downward to cup your cunt.

oh.

"shh, stay quiet, pretty girl," dex bit out, feeling blood rush to his cock at the feeling of the soaked lace. "you don't wanna get caught, do you?"

you shook your head 'no' fervently, but felt your cunt betray you, clenching around nothing at the idea.

"mm, maybe you do?" dex teased, cocking his head like a curious dog. you continued to deny it despite your hips' constant bucking, chasing any friction you could get.

his rumbling laugh seemed to echo through you as his fingers ghosted over the bead of your swollen, covered clit. your breath caught in your throat, sparks of pleasure blinding you as dex studied your reactions intensely.

"right there, honey?"

"yes," you exhaled, floating. utter pleasure washed over your face, creasing your brow. dex had the sudden realization that expressions of pain and pleasure are nearly identical. how interesting, the human condition, he thought.

with a smirk, dex set a steady rhythm of circles against the small bundle of nerves.

"feels so good, dex, please don't stop," you whispered.

he groaned sensually, bathing in the praise, thrusting up into nothing. "yeah?"

you nodded your head, a soft sob escaping you. your nails dug into his solid biceps in a desperate attempt to ground yourself, teeth sinking into your bottom lip to muffle your sweet moans. his methodical fingers kept their pace, the pressure delicious on your clit. your hips stuttered as you felt a tightness build in your abdomen.

"please," you begged.

"tell me what you need, sweetheart, use those words."

"more," you said, nearly in tears, "just need more…please…"

dex wasted no time, sliding his middle and ring finger beneath your ruined panties and deep into your desperate pussy. a gasp stole into your chest, throat turning raw. he curled his thick digits toward him, gently stroking the spongy muscle that had your back arching and eyelids fluttering again.

"yeah?" he goaded, "you like that?"

your answering, breathless "yes" made goosebumps erupt on dex's flesh. each sigh and whine from your lips erased any remaining self-doubt in this unfamiliar territory.

his warm, large palm pressed wonderfully against your aching clit, creating the perfect friction when he thrust and curled his fingers inside you. the stimulation was mouth-watering. you clung to dex's broad shoulders, nearly riding his fingers, babbling praise against his neck.

"so good, dex, p-please don't stop."

another chuckle. "i won't, baby, don't worry."

your core felt taut, as if it were an elastic band with too much tension. the pleasure had you taking down big gulps of air, discipline being the only thing standing between you and the moans that threatened to expose you both.

his fingers worked you right to the edge, then you were one, two, three strokes too close, and a panicked look crossed your features. the pressure was too much.

"it's okay." dex's lips brushed the shell of your ear as he spoke. "it's okay, honey, you can let go. you're allowed to feel good."

having permission to turn off your guilt was liberating. pleasure mounting fast like a damn ready to break, you turned your head to look him in the eye. your mouth hang open as you rode the waves of your orgasm all over his hand.

"that's it," he encouraged, voice hoarse, "keep cumming, good girl. that's it."

you didn't feel entirely in control of your own body, as if someone else were jerking your hips against the callouses of his palm. a white-hot sensation exploded within you. the high was overwhelming to your senses; the pleasure deafening. sound tuned out of your ears for a few moments as you squeezed your eyes shut, determined to not let shame ruin the moment.

dex slowed the pumping of his fingers to a halt inside you, feeling your slick walls flutter around him. he barely registered his hips thrusting in tandem with each drag of his digits. it was heaven—your warmth—and dex wanted.

how many of his fantasies involved this? his expert fingers between your holy thighs? he may have lost count. a smirk slid onto his handsome face at the thought that it was between him and god.

he was straining painfully against his jeans' zipper, cock stiff and leaky. a shaking hand guided your smaller one to rest on his bulge. you should have known he'd be well-endowed.

"you feel what you do to me?" he whispered hoarsely.

"yes," you breathed.

his lustful gaze met yours, pupils blown so wide his eyes appeared black in the candlelight.

"can you pray for me, sweetheart? while i fuck you?"

a pathetic noise left you then; somewhere between a whine and an "uh-huh", which, in the end, sounded like a high-pitched "huh." your cheeks blazed in embarrassment, but dex was all smiles.

"yeah?" he teased, nodding as he planted kisses to your cheek.

"please," you managed, mirroring his nods. "please."

"fuck," dex cursed. he pushed his hips out, nodding encouragingly as you undid his belt buckle and zipper. he slid his jeans and boxers out from underneath him, halfway down tree-trunk thighs.

mother mary.

"you're stunning," you complimented, and it might have been a trick of the light, but you swore color reached dex's scarred cheeks. "it's true: he made us all in his perfect image, of course, but you are…something."

a coy smile met his pink lips and your heart did a flip in your chest. he wasn't used to flattery, you could see it.

frantic eyes tracked your movements as your soft hand closed around his girthy cock. your cheeks burned feeling his slight twitch at your touch. you watched pre-cum dribble down his thick shaft and swallowed the mounting spit in your mouth.

you met dex's captivating eyes once more and lifted yourself, adjusting to sit just above the tip of his cock. he kissed you with a passion you felt from the inside, hot tongue licking into your mouth. strings of wetness fell to cover him, tip teasing your clit and entrance methodically.

you felt like the whore of babylon as he parted your lips beneath your panties and pushed inside past your reborn virginity. sex in a confessional. what the hell were you thinking? god would never forgive you.

then again, he hadn't seemed to forgive you for much of anything recently. what was one more sin?

you grasped the edge of your white veil and pulled it clean off. letting it fall behind you, you leaned into dex. in turn, he sank you further down on his length, stretching you from the inside.

"dex," you whispered between sweet gasps. your fingers grazed his lips, hovering just centimeters from your own.

sweat slid down his forehead, the heat between you two in the confined space overwhelming. his mouth hanged open, cock throbbing inside you as he struggled to breathe. it struck you in that moment that you may be taking his virginity, too.

"it's okay, sweetheart," you said, pressing soft, gentle kisses to his mouth. he deserved a good first experience, too, as far as you were concerned. your hand stroked his hair on instinct as you began slowly moving your hips against his. "it's okay. it feels good for me, too."

you paused, letting him adjust to your heat. now was as good as any to pray for him, for both of you, at this point. your sweet voice was saintly in his ears:

"hail, mary, full of grace, the lord is with thee. blessed art thou amongst women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, jesus. holy mary, mother of god, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death.  amen."

dex let out a sob as you began moving again and you slapped your unoccupied hand over his big mouth. surprise lit up his face at your aggression, reading the don't get us caught in your gaze. his dark eyes twinkled with something akin to approval. you felt the edges of his lips curl beneath your palm, so you took that as permission to do as you pleased.

and god certainly knew you would. you threw your head back, bottom lip tugged between your pearly whites, as dex bottomed out. his tip kissing your cervix, one arm slithered around your waist to pull you tight against him while his other hand rested on your hip. you lifted yourself slowly until only that aching tip remained inside, feeling the thick veins along his cock pulse. dex let out a low groan, vibrating against your hand, as you pushed back down and he hit deep inside once again. desperation knit his brows together, coloring his doe eyes something beautiful. he looked like a fallen angel; lucifer if he begged for forgiveness.

you built a gradual rhythm as you rode him. dex thought none of the church choirs in the world sounded as good as the little moans slipping out of you, the delightful harmony of wet sounds from where you two met sending shivers down his reinforced spine.

he pulled your hand away from him, only for a moment.

"this what you needed?" his deep voice was wrecked, cracking at the high point in 'need.' you felt yourself clench around his cock at the sound. "this what you meant by 'more'? just needed to get fucked?"

you nodded enthusiastically, only able to manage a quiet "mhm." your mind was as scrambled as your eggs this morning. your grip tightened in his hair as he watched you heatedly, intently, breath coming out in sharp, short pants through his straight nose.

dex craned his head, mouth meeting the spot just below your ear. "i know it feels good, baby…i know…i know."

your arms lost their fight at his words, wrapping around his shoulders in comfort and surrender as he met your thrusts. you muffled your uncontrollable moans against the smooth skin of his neck.

"f-fuck, that's it, honey, don't stop," he whispered. "please, just don't stop."

you could only sob promises into his leather jacket that you wouldn't as you bounced up and down on him. the musky, salty fragrance of him invaded your nose and you drank it in, pressing closer like you couldn't get enough. dex found a wicked grin creeping onto his features at the pleasure you derived from his body—from him.

how many times had he not found sleep until he had a hand around himself, stroking at the thought of you and your righteousness?

his north star.

a shattered moan left him then. the poor thing so drunk on pleasure that he didn't notice how close he already was.

"shit, i'm…" dex wheezed. you were nodding, grinding on the panties that bunched near your swollen clit.

"me too, dex." hearing your broken voice had him on edge.

"oh," he moaned, eyes rolling back until they closed. dex could only whisper now. "so close, so fucking close…need you…need you to cum, baby."

"yeah?" you teased, echoing his tactic from earlier. he whined in response, bucking wildly, muscles flexing. your hips began to shake as that elastic sensation tightened in your core, each stroke hitting your g-spot, rubbing your clit delectably.

your fingertips sank deep into dex's arms, trying to anchor yourself to him. he welcomed the biting pain from your nails, surely leaving crescent indents beneath his shirt.

"just a little longer," you nearly wept, "you can do it."

"i-i can't," dex groaned, "'s too good."

"yes, you can," you encouraged, trailing sweet kisses up and along his strong jaw: now ticking, grinding hard in patience. if there was one thing dex was used to, it was patience. maybe he could edge himself inside you, hovering on absolute bliss, the masochism written all over his pretty face. after all, he had waited this long. dex steeled his remaining self-discipline and nodded, arms lifting your waist, up and down, just so, to hit the spot inside you hard enough to have your toes curling in your mary janes.

the sight was more erotic than dex could have ever imagined: you, hair loose on your shoulders, arms thrown around him, rosary tickling his ear, as you rode him, habit dress still on, with shaking legs, your pace becoming sloppy, and that same, beautiful look on your face as you neared orgasm once again.

"dex, i'm…" you exhaled, hovering on that cliff you so desperately wanted to tumble over with him.

"that's it. go 'head, angel, cum all over me."

the filth of his words and tone of his voice—the raw command in it—had your walls gushing around him instantly. dex crashed his sinful mouth to yours to swallow each others' moans as you came simultaneously. you cried out against him, pussy soaking, milking him. a warmth filled you from within, his cock throbbing while his balls emptied.

a thin layer of sweat covered you both as you fought to catch your breath. euphoria had your head in the clouds, resting your forehead gently against his. dex shuddered in your arms, his whole body twitching with pleasure. you thought he looked the most handsome like this: relaxed, without a sneer or scowl to be seen, his beautiful face free of worry.

he let out the softest of whines when you met him with a chaste kiss. your arms tightened around him, cradling his clear head gently. dex leaned into you, then, as well. his tongue explored your mouth lazily as your shaking pace slowed. the buzzing plaguing him earlier was silent now, chased away by sweet release.

dex felt obsession crawling under his skin like it was sentient. his desires were suffocating him and he could only get one thing straight: he wanted you, this, forever. he was on the divine path, now certain that you were a part of it. even better, a willing part of it.

your lips left his and pressed against his slick forehead in forgiveness.

“god has forgiven your sins. you may go in peace.”

a low chuckle sent a shiver through you. the pleasure coursing through his veins fueled his boldness. "i ain't going anywhere, sweetheart."

the bright smile that touched your lips was undoubtedly an act of god, dex thought. he could get used to it.

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a/n: hey guys i'm going to hell! pls forgive me for the amt of blasphemy. this wasn't requested i'm just a fucking freak. god 2x02 had my head SPINNING i couldn't write this fast enough but i wanted it to be Perfect, so i've been working on this for a minute. was this tew much? *elijah wood voice* maybe!

either way i hope u dexxed it. ;) #we'reback

pls lmk your thoughts! and as always, asks and requests r opennn! :)

xoxo, b

poindextergirl™ 2026. do not feed my work into ai, repost, or translate my work. reblogs are very much appreciated! ♱

now virgin!dex can’t get off like he used to. when he watches the video he has to picture you instead of the girl to cum. he badly photoshoped your face over hers on a still image from the porno, printing his pathetic little montage to jerk off to it.

virgin!dex stalks you every week-end and one night he sees you cry in your apartment. he knows he’s a sick fuck but he’s so hard watching you upset like that. he pictures you like in his porno, crying and moaning, pleading, no,no,no—dex s’toomuch pleaseplease, but fuck you’re a bad liar cause he can feel how wet your are for him when your cunt swallows his cock. he fucks his fist so hard in his car he comes in two minutes, his abused cock turning a nasty shade of red in his death grip. he spends the rest of the evening trying to wipe the mess he made all over the dashboard.

usually he’s cleaner than that, spitting his load in a paper tissue he can easily discard. but not when he thinks about you, not when he watches you. fuck, when he thinks about it, it's kinda irritating how much you disrupt him with so little. he's a bit mad at you for making him cum so much, in such a messy way.

when he scrubs the sticky spots on the plastic, he wonders how it’ll feel when he’ll fuck you for real. you’ll be on your back, legs bent, smothered between your two bodies, ankles hanged above his shoulders. split open when he’ll bottom out. how he’ll react when he’ll feel your cunt clenched around his cock and your juices drenching his pelvis, dripping on his balls. and the sounds you’ll make....

he hopes he’ll last long like the guy in the video.

Everything was fine. Everything was good. His life was so good. Better than going back to his apartment and wondering what you were doing when you weren't physically in his presence. He finally managed to have a girlfriend and keep a girlfriend without scaring her off or creeping her out. He was doing so well. Until he pissed you off.

It was eroding him from the inside. You were always so sweet and kind, so patient. Patient. He didn't deserve patience. He didn't deserve kindness. He didn't deserve someone so beautiful and so willing to take charge in and outside headquarters. You commanded your subunit with ease and took orders with no problem. You're perfect. No flaws. You can do no wrong.

Except for when you chose to ignore him for the first time.

It was such an idiotic argument. You were out late with your friends because it was a double birthday party and he lost his shit. You came home just a little drunk and with a dead phone in your back pocket. Normally you'd feel bad for not thinking sooner to get a charger and read the, checks notes, 105 messages sent from 10 p.m. to 3 a.m. of him freaking the fuck out, but there were some threats in there. And some other things that were just downright hurtful.

The argument went terribly. You tried to reason with him, understand where he was coming from because he was genuinely afraid he was going to get abandoned again by the one person that understood his twisted mind, but he was so frantic and unreasonable that night that you had no choice but to kick him out of your place with a door slammed before he could get the last word. Was it harsh? Yes. Did it hurt to do that? Also yes. But he had to learn one way or another.

So you haven't spoken to him in about a week. What didn't help was your unit having to move to some penthouse with the word "prison" slapped on it as if that meant anything. Your positions were too far for him to casually be able to walk up and talk to you, which was also driving him nuts. He can't talk to you at work and he damn sure can't go to your place.

Every night he comes home, his shaking hand hovers over the call button. If he's too nervous he'll think to text you, but his hands still shake and that message will not be sent. He can't sleep. He can't eat. He can barely shower. He feels like he could die. Maybe even should die. Why would he think in a million years that he could have something so precious?

Three weeks go by. You just got home. You're tired. Eating alone again tonight. Sleeping alone. Showering alone. You weren't in the mood to call one of your friends either. With a heavy sigh, you drag your feet to the kitchen and pull out something that'll take at most ten minutes to cook. Then, as soon as you turn on the stove, your phone pings.

Picking up your work bag with a bit of dramatized grunt, you turn on your phone and your relaxed expression instantly falls.

"Can we talk? Please?"

You try to massage the growing headache starting in your forehead. Seriously? Now? Well...it has been some time of this silent treatment. You think maybe he's got the message.

Another text comes:

"Please stop ignoring me," it reads.

"I'll be good."

"I promise."

"I'll be so good."

Your heart rate grows with each passing message.

"Open the door."

Your eyes widen.

"Please."

You scoffed and stared at the door. No way. No...way. You turned off the stove and walked over, a little hesitant to open it because you knew he was never one to bluff. The knob twisted and opened to the sight of a mess of a man. Still in work attire and red puffy eyes.

A breeze hit as he bolted past you in a flash. You blinked, obviously shocked, and he spun around to go back to where he was.

"Shit, sorry. I'm sorry," he muttered as he went back out into the hallway. Head hung low. He was a nervous wreck. The tips of his ears pink and his neck shiny from sweating. "Can I, uh, ahem, can I come in? Please?"

You took a second to process what just happened in the last thirty seconds.

"You may."

You shut the door behind you with a deep exhale. Dex ran his fingers through his hair in haste as he tried to calm down, but it wasn't working.

"Dex- oh-"

You watched him drop to his knees in front of you. Shoulders slumped and twitching from what you assume him starting to cry. A soft whimper escaping before he could catch it. Wow.

You've seen him at some pretty low lows, but this?

"I'm so sorry," he whispered and shook his head. "I know I'm the worst boyfriend ever and what I said was fucked up and I don't deserve you. I don't deserve your love and patience. I'm just- the worst and-"

"Dex-"

"-Please don't hate me," he looked up at you through those wet blond lashes and gently placed his hands on the sides of your thighs. Face red and voice trembling. Still pretty as ever... "I'll do anything. You have every right to put me out and never want to see me again, but, please. You can hit me. Kick me. Curse me out. Anything you want. Just please don't leave me-"

"-maybe I should."

That shut him right up. Which only made your stomach swirl from seeing his reaction. Looking like a lost puppy out on a cold, rainy night.

"You said some really nasty things to me, Dex. Things I can't forget."

"I know, I know. You didn't deserve to be put through that and I've never felt so much shame in my life. The way I acted was unforgivable and...just- you have to believe me."

"Stop," you held a hand up and took a step back to rub your temples. This was the last way you expected to end a Friday night. He just sat there like you wanted. "I need to think."

As he watched you slowly pace in front of him, all he could think about, other than his major fuck up, was how pretty you looked. The lighting at your apartment was nicer than his. More ambient. More welcoming. More warm. Some part of him liked this angle. Him looking up after groveling at your feet after a long, stressful day.

Oh, how he missed you. So much. Missed your lazy smile in the morning when you ended up accidentally sleeping over. How your hips felt in his hands as he practiced gentleness to a slow jazz song played on your speaker. Missed your little rendezvous spot when it close to the end of one of your shifts to gossip. Or do other things when you were sure nobody was going to walk past--making out profusely, he hasn't been able to stop begging for it once you taught him how to kiss properly.

"I'll... do anything," he said quietly. "Anything you want. I'll buy you anything. Whatever it is, I'll-"

A single look at him interrupted his next words and he could physically feel his heart stop and start pounding again.

"I want you..." you began as the thought fully formed in your mind. The corner of your mouth tugged upwards for a second before it fell again. There was that look in your eyes. It was extremely rare. The look when you were about to do or say something petty. "...to do nothing."

He says nothing but you can see the cogs turning as he tried to understand your words. Was this a trick? Rhetorical? A metaphor? Were you telling him to leave? Stay? You said it so calmly. No yelling, no screaming. No crying (that makes one of you) no cursing...what were you planning.

"But-"

"-Don't talk," you said. "Do nothing."

His eyes followed as you went into the kitchen to resume your small meal. He stayed there in the middle of the floor, still in his knees. He wiped his tears and continued to watch to see if there was some grand gesture you were building up to, but you were just going on about your night.

You left the stove on to let the water in the pot reach a boiling point to go to your room and change. Closing the door so he can't see you. His hands curled into loose fists against his knees. Not in anger, but confusion and anxiety.

The silence was killing him.

You came back out and his lips parted in awe. Oh...you were playing dirty.

Clad in nothing but a loose tank top--no bra--and panties, a stark contrast from the very formal** work attire you just had on, he nearly choked on his own spit. You intentionally walked around him and sauntered just to make your ass look even better.

You whistled a tune like all was fine in the world. Moving around the kitchen and preparing a single-person dish like you were really gone alone. When you finished and tossed the used dishes in the sink, you rounded the counter so you'd be facing away from him. Leaning on it while eating so that all he was getting was a front row view.

His throat was as dry as his tears. Hypnotized. Too afraid to say something in case you'd instantly stop what you're doing and just go to sleep with him still sitting there.

Dex was beyond hard. It wasn't as gradual as he would wish, but this is you we're talking about. That and you've only had sex once but you were both drunk, so naturally he's been dreaming of the day he could have you properly.

He couldn't contain the desperate whine that was destined to come out once you reached over the counter to "grab something," making your underwear shift and give him something to really look it. Like your clothes knew to follow along with your cruel teasing.

You stood up and looked around.

"Did I hear something?"

He stayed quiet and swallowed thickly. Don't fuck this up again, Dex!

You finished your food and shrugged, putting that dish in the sink as well, which you might tell him to clean later.

You went back into your room but didn't close the door. He couldn't see well, but you stood at an angle so he could see you were taking off the rest of your clothes. His whole body catches a wave of chills. The sound of the shower connected to your room made him more alert.

"Oh, shit," You called out. He leaned in a little to listen in more. On what, he had no idea. You suddenly walked back out. Fully. Naked. Dex covered his mouth so the groan that was on the tip of his tongue didn't pass.

"Forgot my towel was in the dryer," you continued with a few tsk's. You kneeled and stuck your head in just to reach your highest potential of being petty. "Where is it...?"

If this were a cartoon, his dick would've sprung past the buttons and zipper like some kind of exaggerated comedy bit to show how painfully horny he was. His eyes shut tight for a second and he regretted opening them back up once half your body was out, a full view of your ass. Spread.

A choked sob bounced off your walls. Sitting up, you looked around again.

"That sound again..."

He forced himself to look at the floor and take a deep breath. This was so...he'd rather you kick him in the balls.

"Must've been the wind," you mused and got back up with a pep in your step. Stopping at your door frame, you looked over your shoulder at him. Poor thing. You slightly hated to treat him like this, but you'll bet he will never talk to you like that again. You cleared your throat loudly, prompting him to look up slowly. His sizable bulge was the first thing that eye caught. Then it was his blushing cheeks and hunched shoulders. He wanted you so bad. Needed you. So fucking bad.

Now all you did was raise a finger and give him a simple command.

"Come."

His ears perked. You headed towards your bathroom before he could even respond. He nearly tripped over his shoes chasing after you.

By the time he made it, you were already in the shower. The glass wasn't fogged up yet so now all he was seeing was you, naked. Wet. Waiting. Did you want him to join? To watch?

You peeked past the door that was purposely left ajar. "I said come."

His clothes were off in all but fifteen seconds. Clothes discarded to who-fucking-cares, stepping in behind you and sliding the door all the way. He turned slowly as if he hadn't been wanting something like this to happen for the last half hour. Your body covered in suds. His hands itched to touch you. Hold you.

"...um..." he muttered. Voice barely heard over the water. You washed off most of the soap and turned to him suddenly. Eyes trailing down that body of his. Licking your bottom lip once they landed on his erection. Thick and swollen with want. The tip as red as his neck. You took his hand and swapped spots with him so that the hot water was hitting his back. You didn't let him react as your arms wrapped around his neck. Taking a half step forward so his dick was between your soap-slick thighs.

He hissed and let out a deep whimper. Forehead resting on yours. It looked like he wanted to cry again.

"...I'm sorry."

You guided his hands so they'd circle around your waist. His large hands spreading across your spine. You could feel him throbbing in anticipation.

"Don't do that shit ever again," you said. He nodded immediately with a shaky breath.

"I will never, ever talk to you like that again. I swear it."

You smile slowly and give him a kiss. Pulling back before he could chase your lips. Looking down at you with glossy eyes.

"I know."

You kissed him again. This time a little slower and he practically melted. Putty in your hands. Licking into each other's mouths like a second language was being spoken (another thing you taught him). He started to move his hips in tandem with the pace you set. One hand on the small of your back and the other gripping you from behind, but not too hard. He wouldn't dare unless you told him to.

He moaned your name into your mouth. His hands grabbing your hips so he has more leverage to thrust easily. "You feel so fucking good. I could die."

Your nails trail against the nape of his neck, threading into his short locks on the back of his head and he moans again. Panting. The soap combined with your slick made his movements less in sync. The sensation was beyond him.

A little too beyond...

Dex grunted one time and you could feel a warm fluid dripping down the back of your thighs. He pulled away with an embarrassed whine and shut his eyes.

"Fuck," he whispered and held you tighter with shaky hands. "I didn't mean to do that. I'm sorry. Fuck**."

"It's okay, baby."

Baby. One of his favorite things that you call him. For a moment he was a little less embarrassed. Only a little.

"I fucked it up."

"You didn't fuck it up."

You kissed the corner of his lips before turning around in his arms. Ass rubbing against him like an animal in heat. He cursed again and rested his chin on your shoulder.

"Am I still...uh..."

"Hm?"

He huffed to ease his nerves. "Am I still your good boy?"

You hummed and slid your hand between your bodies to line him up where you need him. Ideally all** of him this time because he's just so fucking big.

"That's up to you," you said. "Just take it slower this time. We're in no rush."

Dex lifted his head and gently guided your hand away so he could take over this part. He didn't push; he eased. Inch by inch. By the halfway mark you audibly reacted.

"You okay?"

You nodded and patted his hand to reassure him. This was the last thing on your mind when you were drunk that one time, but you both were sober, drunk on longing and desire with a drop of desperation. On both ends.

He continued slowly as he could. Do not fuck this up, Dex. His half lidded eyes watched your face contort while he focused on not letting the way you feel enveloping him obscure the task at hand: make you feel good.

He held you with a sense of reverence. Even with the teasing earlier you were still perfect. No flaws. You can do no wrong.

Once he bottomed out, he caught another chill despite the warm water still beating against his back. You tightened around him and it snatched him out of his little trance.

"Still okay?"

"Yeah," you replied with quickness. Putting one of his hands on your breast for comfort. You could hear him swallow. Almost like it was comical. "Keep going. I'm good. You're doing great."

You felt him twitch when the words left your mouth. It took everything in him not to overachieve. Not yet, if he can last.

Dex pulled back just a little, and his first thrust earned a loud groan from you. His arm tight around your waist for balance.

"Don't stop," you said with a short breath. And now he was activated.

He set a slow pace to make sure you could comfortably adjust. The noises you were making were all going to his head. He's the one doing this. He's the one making you feel good. He's the only one who can get you to sound like this.

He felt so good that you wanted to run. Push him away just to pull him back in. Your stomach contracting with pleasure. Breathless moans filling the air more than the steam was. It was too much and not enough at the same time. He's so big and thick you were seeing stars already. He hasn't even picked up the pace yet.

"Can I go faster? Please?"

"Yes," you barely got out. A sharp gasp at how he took no time filling you at a faster speed.

If it weren't for him holding you so tight you probably would've slipped and fell. You were starting to lose focus. The toughness in you evaporating with the water. Your knees not nearly as strong as before.

"Am I doing good?"

"So fucking good, fuck-"

He leaned down and left a light bite mark on your shoulder. A loud, deep moan tearing from his throat as he couldn't mask it. Another string by your ear, but you barely registered it as you could feel that hot coil in the pit of your stomach unraveling.

"I think- I might cum again-"

"Hold it," you said. It came out like a growl. Almost scared him. "Be a good boy and hold it."

He whined and held you closer, if that was possible. But he obeyed. Determination and hopeless devotion sparkling in his eyes.

Whatever you were going to say next was irrelevant because now he was doing that thing where he randomly decides to be precise about whatever task he's doing. It's the worst, well, best, when it comes to sex. He did the same thing during your first time together. You might've been drunk, but you remember when all of sudden you said something to make him hit the target. Over and over again. Perfectly.

He found the spot and thrusted into it repeatedly, making that burning coil unwind and snap in a matter of a minute.

You covered your mouth last second as you had to remember you had neighbors who would have no shame in bringing this up in the morning. His thick shaft continued to drag against your walls as you both rode this out. His mouth smushed against your shoulder once more to keep from waking up everybody on this floor.

He did it. He held back under your command and was now unloading enough cum to where it was seeping out onto your thighs again. Once he came to a gradual halt, you were both shaking and holding each other like the floor could collapse under you any second now. Breaths erratic. Just standing there, tangled up in the other.

You lowered your hand and he nuzzled further into you. A single tear hitting your back as you hear a soft sniffle.

"Please don't ignore me for that long again," he murmured. "Or at all. I'll be a good boy...I promise."

He pushed the door open a little wider with his shoulder, glasses sliding down his nose, and the sight hit him like a truck.

You were on the floor.

Legs splayed, one knee twisted at a weird angle, that thin white cover-up clinging to your skin thanks to the humidity and doing exactly zero to hide the tiny bikini underneath.

His gaze flicked down, then up, then anywhere that wasn’t you, but it was useless. The way the bikini bottoms sat low on your hips. The cover-up slipping off one shoulder. The sunscreen is still shiny on your thigh. He felt heat crawl up the back of his neck, felt his glasses fog slightly at the edges because apparently his body had decided this was the moment to overheat.

“Are—are you okay?” The words came out gravelly, like he’d just swallowed a handful of sand. He hovered in the doorway, one hand still gripping the frame.

You looked up at him, lips parted in that sheepish little smile. “Yeah,” you said with a soft, embarrassed laugh, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I just slipped on sunscreen like an absolute genius.”

Dex swallowed hard. He should leave. He should turn around right now and go back to his room and pretend he hadn’t seen any of this. But his feet were glued. And you were still sitting there, looking up at him with those eyes, cover-up slipping further down your arm, and every single fantasy he’d ever tried to bury came roaring back in high definition.

He took one careful step closer, then another, until he was crouched beside you. His hand hovered for a second before his fingers brushed your elbow. The skin there was warm, still a little slick from lotion, and the contact sent a jolt straight through him.

“Here—let me…” His voice cracked. He cleared his throat, tried again. “C-can I help you up?”

You nodded, still wearing that small, knowing smile, and when you slipped your hand into his, Dex felt it in his ribs, his stomach, everywhere. He pulled you to your feet a little too quickly, until you were standing right there, inches away. The sheer fabric brushed against his hoodie. The smell of strawberries filled the space between you.

“You… you should probably lather up on the couch,” he managed, voice low and rough. “Sitting down to avoid…slipping.”

“That’s actually a really smart idea,” you said, laughing softly, that same knowing smile still in place as you let go of his hand. You stepped past him toward the hallway.

Dex inhaled sharply before he could stop himself. Your hair swung close and that strawberry scent hit him full force again. His eyes actually rolled back for half a second, lashes fluttering. God. He was pathetic. Completely, irreversibly pathetic.

He followed you down the hall at a careful distance, hands shoved deep in his hoodie pockets so you wouldn’t see them shaking, eyes locked on the floor.

“You heading to the beach today?” he asked, even though he already knew the answer. He’d watched you check the weather app three separate times during dinner. He knew your plans better than his own.

You glanced back over your shoulder with a little shrug. “Nah, just the rooftop pool.”

Dex rubbed the back of his neck, pretending to look surprised. “R-right. I forgot the apartment even had a pool…”

You dropped onto the couch and gave him that sweet little “Mm-hm.”

“Well,” he said, already taking a jerky step back toward the hallway, “I’ll be in my room if you need anyth—”

“Actually…”

Your voice stopped him cold. Dex turned halfway around. You were standing by the couch, sunscreen bottle in one hand, fingers playing with the tie of your cover-up.

“Can you help me put sunscreen on?” you asked, all soft and sweet. “My back’s impossible to reach and I really don’t want to burn…”

Dex’s mouth went completely dry. Every alarm in his head went off, but his feet were already carrying him toward you anyway. 

“You… you want me to—?” His voice came out cracked and embarrassingly breathy.

You tilted your head, biting your lower lip in that soft, innocent way that wiped every rational thought clean out of his skull. “Only if you’re okay with it,” you said sweetly, eyes wide and guileless. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything.”

Uncomfortable. Right.

He was already half-hard in his sweatpants, cock twitching at the mere idea of his hands on you. His glasses slid another inch down his nose.

“No—no, I don’t mind,” he blurted, then winced at how desperate he sounded. “I mean… yeah. Sure. Definitely.”

Your whole face lit up. “Thank you!” you chirped, bright and happy, and before he could brace himself you reached up and tugged the tie of the cover-up. It slipped right off your shoulders and you held it

Dex’s brain flatlined.

Holy shit.

New material, his mind supplied instantly, already filing every detail away for later. For when he was alone in his room tonight, door locked, hand wrapped tight around his cock, biting down on his wrist so you wouldn’t hear him falling apart through the thin wall. He was so unbelievably fucked.

You dropped the cover-up over the arm of the couch and sat down, patting the cushion beside you. “C’mere then.”

Dex nodded like a bobble head and lowered himself onto the couch on shaky legs, the cushions sinking under his weight. His hands trembled as he took the sunscreen from you and squeezed way too much into his palm. A thick white pool sat there like evidence of how badly he was failing at playing it cool.

He rubbed his palms together slowly, the wet sound loud in the quiet room, warming the lotion between his fingers. Then he scooted closer and placed his hands at the top of your back, right below the delicate knot of your bikini strings.

Fuck.

His thumbs pressed into your warm skin and he started rubbing careful circles, spreading the lotion down the smooth line of your spine. He was trying so hard to stay respectful, but his brain was already ten steps ahead—imagining taking the string with his teeth, tugging it loose, watching the strings fall away so he could finally see everything he’d been fantasizing about for months.

Dex’s breath caught. He kept his hands moving anyway, trying like hell not to let you feel how badly they were shaking.

“Mmm… your hands feel really good, Ben,” you said, low and a little breathy. You even used his first name, and it hit him like you knew exactly what it would do to him.

His whole body jolted.

“S-Sorry?” The word came out too loud and cracked right in the middle. His hands froze on your skin, palms pressed flat against your back, heart pounding so hard he could feel it in his fingertips.

You let out a soft, knowing laugh and twisted on the couch. Before his brain could catch up, you swung one leg over his lap and straddled him. Your warm thighs settled around his hips, your ass pressing right down against the front of his sweatpants where he was already half-hard and completely hopeless.

Dex’s back hit the cushions hard, body stiff as a board. Every muscle locked up tight. His lotion-slick hands flew up in the air.

“Wh-what—you—I—What are you doing?”

You settled your full weight on his thighs, hands resting lightly on his shoulders, and smiled down at him with that sweet, wicked look that wiped every coherent thought from his head.

“You want to touch them, don’t you, Benjamin?” you asked softly, tilting your head. “I know you’ve wanted me for a long time. I see the way you look at me when I walk around in my sundresses. When I bend over to grab something. You think I don’t notice?”

Dex’s mouth opened, then closed. Words failed him for a second.

“I—I didn’t—fuck, okay I did, but I swear I wasn’t trying to be creepy— Jesus Christ you’re so pretty and I’m such a fucking loser but yes please—you can sit here forever—I’ll do anything—I’ll buy you all the sunscreen in the store—I’ll—fuck—”

His hands stayed hovering uselessly in the air, trembling, eyes wide and glassy behind his glasses as he stared up at you.

You giggled, clearly loving every second of his meltdown, and traced one finger slowly down his forehead, over the bridge of his nose, then across his bottom lip. Your fingertip caught on the way his mouth shook.

“It’s okay,” you whispered. “I don’t mind. I like it when you look at me like that.”

Dex’s breathing turned ragged, chest heaving under you. Every exhale fogged his glasses a little more. His cock was fully hard now, throbbing against your ass, and he was mortified and turned on beyond belief.

You slid your fingers into his brown hair, messing it up and tugged gently until his head tipped back with a shaky gasp. Then you plucked his glasses off his face and set them neatly on the couch cushion beside you.

“You’re already so hot with these on,” you murmured, brushing his hair back from his forehead, nails scraping lightly over his scalp, “but you shouldn’t hide that handsome face all the time.” You leaned in close, lips brushing the shell of his ear. “Can you still see me?”

Dex blinked hard. The world went soft and blurry without the lenses, but you were right there—warm, soft, and practically naked on his lap, tits inches from his mouth. His hands finally settled on your hips, thumbs brushing the edge of your bikini bottoms.

“Y-yeah,” he breathed, still panting. “I can still see you.”

“Good,” you said with another soft laugh, palms sliding down his chest, over his shoulders, feeling every tense line of him like you were marking what was yours. “Then you won’t mind taking off your hoodie right now, will you?”

Dex’s brain blue-screened, “Y-You want me to do what?”

You rocked your hips once, slow and deliberate, grinding right against the obvious bulge in his sweats. He choked on air.

“Take off your clothes, Ben.”

“R-really?”

“Really.”

His voice cracked embarrassingly high. “This is a joke, right? You’re fucking with me—”

You didn’t bother answering with words. You just stood up, reached behind your neck, and pulled the bow. The knot came undone with one easy tug. The pink bikini top slipped down and you tossed it onto the couch.

Dex’s eyes went wide and inhaled sharply. “Oh my god…”

Your breasts were right there—bare, nipples already tight from the way he was staring. He couldn’t look away. His cock throbbed hard against his sweats. His hands fisted the couch cushions so tightly his knuckles went white.

You planted your hands on your hips, completely at ease. “Do you want to get off or not?”

That snapped him out of it. Dex yanked his hoodie up and over his head in one jerky motion, then stripped off the white t-shirt underneath. He sat there shirtless, and holy shit—he was ripped. Broad shoulders, defined chest, abs flexing with every shaky breath, that sharp V-line disappearing into his low-slung sweats.

You drank him in like you’d been waiting years for this exact reveal, eyes darkening, lips parting. A slow, hungry smile curved your mouth, like you’d always known the shy, glasses-wearing roommate was secretly built like that under the hoodies. Like you’d been imagining peeling him open just as much as he’d been imagining you.

“Fuck, Dex,” you breathed, stepping between his spread thighs. “I knew you were hiding all that.”

Dex swallowed hard, throat bobbing. A tiny, shy smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He still couldn’t believe any of this was happening to him.

“What… what do you want me to do?”

You hummed, dragging your gaze over every cut line of his torso while you decided. “Why don’t you get on your knees and make me come? Then I’ll let you play with my breasts.”

His eyes blew wide, like a kid who just got told Christmas came early. “Really? You—you actually want me to—?”

You laughed, low and fond, cocking your hip. “Are you going to ask me that every single time? Yes, really. Taste me.”

Dex’s breath stuttered out in a shaky exhale. He slid off the couch in slow motion, knees hitting the floor with a soft thud. He knelt between your thighs, looking up at you with those big hazel eyes, glasses-less and wrecked. 

“I’m just… surprised you want me to,” he mumbled, adorably earnest. “I mean… me?”

You combed your fingers through his messy hair, nails scraping his scalp, and his whole body jolted like you’d shocked him. A tinybwhimper slipped out before he could swallow it.

“Well, I really need to know what that mouth feels like,” you murmured, still petting him like he was yours.

Dex’s breath hitched hard. “O-okay… okay, fuck—thank you.”

He leaned in and caught the left tie of your bikini bottoms between his teeth (exactly the way he’d just fantasized) and tugged with a desperate little groan vibrating in his throat. The knot slipped free. He moved to the right side, teeth grazing your hip bone, pulling harder this time, eyes fluttering shut as a muffled “mmph” vibrated against your skin.

The pink bottoms fluttered to the floor.

He was inches from your bare pussy, that sweet strawberry-and-you scent flooding his lungs. He looked up at you one last time, cheeks flushed.

“Fuck… you’re so pretty,” he whispered. He looked up at you so intently, those beautiful hazel eyes blazing through the haze of his glasses-less blur.

For the second time this morning his brain is lagging—this gorgeous, confident woman gripping his hair, looking at him like he was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. As if he wasn’t just some awkward, hoodie-wearing loser who’d jerked off to the image of you in his head for six straight months. It couldn’t be real, could it? He was going to wake up any second, cock in his fist, alone in his cold bed again—then he lowered his lips to your pussy and he knew it was real.

The first touch was so delicately gentle, just the soft press of his open mouth, a shaky, whimpery kiss right against your folds. A savouring hum caught in his throat the second your taste hit his tongue. The sensation tore through you like lightning, and you arched hard, knees buckling with a startled cry that made his cock twitch painfully in his sweats.

“Oh wow,” you moaned breathlessly, gripping his bare shoulder. “You’re… surprisingly really good at this.”

You tried to steady yourself on one foot as he brought your other leg up, easing it over his shoulder with trembling hands. His tongue dragged flat and worshipful from your entrance to your clit, then swirled lazy, needy circles, moaning into you the whole time that vibrated straight through your core. 

“Mmmph—fuck, you taste so good,” he mumbled against you, voice muffled and desperate. “I don’t deserve this—mmh—so sweet, I’m sorry I’m so greedy but I can’t stop—”

He closed his mouth over your swollen clit and kissed it like it was the love of his life, lips sucking and smacking wetly, moving exactly like he was French-kissing your mouth. His tongue swirled in huge, sloppy circles, groaning loud and shameless right into you as he gripped your hips with those strong hands, yanking you harder against his face so he could grind his nose against your clit.

He pulled back just enough to stare up at you with those worshipful eyes before his tongue started flicking your clit in rapid, frantic little strokes. His gaze never left yours, drinking in every gasp and twitch like your pleasure was the only validation he’d ever need. His hips jerk pathetically against nothing, completely lost in the taste of you, groaning and begging between messy licks.

“Oh my, g-god. Dex—slide your tongue in again.”

You bucked hard towards his nose, a muffled cry slipping through your bitten lips as his tongue pushed deep inside you, thick and wet and pulsing like he was trying to fuck you with it. He groaned into your pussy, the vibration rolling straight to your clit, and your fingers twisted tighter in his messy hair. The second you yanked him closer, he let out the cutest, muffled little laugh against your soaked folds then drove his tongue even deeper, curling, licking, devouring like he’d die if he couldn’t taste every drop of you.

Dex pulled back just enough to drag in a shaky breath, lips glossy and swollen, spit and your slick shining down his chin.

“Please—fuck, please keep pulling my hair like that,” he begged. His hips still rolled helplessly against nothing, the fat outline of his cock straining obscenely against his sweats, a wet spot blooming darker where he was leaking for you. “I love it when you do—”

“Yeah?” You gave his hair a sharp tug, watching the way his whole body jolted like you’d electrocuted him. A wicked smile curved your lips. “You like it when I get a little rough?”

“Yes—yes, fuck, I love it,” he groaned, eyes fluttering.

“Oh, baby,” you cooed, nails scraping possessively over his scalp again. “You’re so fucking sweet when you beg. Almost makes me want to be nice to you…” You yanked harder, and his moan cracked into a needy whimper that made his thighs shake. “…but it’s way too sexy when you fall apart like this. I also like my men strong, Benjamin. Are you strong?”

“Oh fuck—” 

He surged up from his knees without warning. Big hands grabbed your hips and spun you around with barely an effort. You barely had time to gasp before he lifted you and tossed you back onto the couch. Your back bounced against the cushions, and before you could even speak he was right there again, down on his knees between your spread legs.

His palms shoved your thighs up and back, folding you neatly in half until your knees pressed to your chest. Your pussy was completely open, glistening and dripping right in front of his face.

Dex dove back in like he’d lost his mind. His tongue dragged up to your clit, flicking and sucking with fresh, desperate hunger. Just when you started missing the stretch of him inside you, he pushed two thick fingers deep, thrusting slowly at first, then harder, curling them exactly where you needed them.

“Oh my god,” you moaned, head falling back. “You’re such a good boy—I don’t even have to tell you what to do.”

He was devouring you now. Every time he sucked your clit between his lips he made wet, filthy slurping sounds, humming deep and greedy in his throat.

“Mmmph—fuuuck,” he groaned right against your pussy, the vibration rolling straight through you. “You know this pussy owns me now, right? Owns my face. Owns my mouth.” His tongue lapped messily through your folds, slurping noisily at every drop, chin already shiny and dripping. “I could kneel here and lick you all fucking day. You’ve made such a mess out of me.”

He hummed louder, eyes squeezed shut in pure bliss, fingers pumping faster, curling hard against that spot that made your back arch clean off the couch and stars burst behind your eyelids.

Pleasure slammed through you hard enough to rip a loud cry from your throat. Dex’s tongue kept dragging those slow, filthy circles around your clit, savoring every twitch, while his fingers drove deep inside you in that steady, ruthless rhythm that had you trying to grind down on his face even though he had you folded in half.

And fuck, you thought with a dazed little smirk, it’s always the quiet ones who turn out to be absolute freaks.

“That’s it—own my face,” he whimpered desperately against your pussy, voice wrecked and needy. “Fucking own it. Come all over your good boy. Come all over your obedient little servant. That’s me. That’s all me.”

“Fuck—Dex, I’m coming,” you whispered urgently, as he rocked your hips against his face. “You’re going to make me come…”

Dex let out a groany laugh, eyes squeezing shut for a second like he couldn’t believe his luck. “Yes, give it to me,” he begged, lips trembling against your pussy. “Come in my mouth, flood my tongue, I’ll drink every fucking drop—”

His fingers drove deeper, faster, curling hard against that perfect spot while his tongue licked you quick and greedy, groaning low and filthy the whole time. He slurped and sucked like he was starving, humming desperately because you tasted so good he couldn’t get enough.

You cried out as the orgasm hit you, sharp and overwhelming. Your pussy clenched tight around his fingers, gushing all over his eager mouth and chin while he kept licking and sucking through every single pulse, moaning like he was coming right along with you.

“Oh fuck that’s it—that’s it, give me everything,” he mumbled between messy swallows, voice thick and grateful. “Fuck—thank you.”

When you finally started to come down, Dex pulled back just enough to press soft, reverent kisses to your inner thighs, lips trembling against your slick skin. He looked up and found you staring into the void, dazed and breathless, lips parted like you’d forgotten how to form words.

His hands itched. God, they fucking itched to slide up and cup those beautiful breasts but he didn’t dare move without permission. He was still your pathetic little servant, still on his knees, still terrified; this was all some cruel dream that would vanish if he got too greedy.

“Um… c-can I touch them now?” he asked, cheeks burning hot. “Please?”

That snapped you out of it. Your lips curved into a naughty little smile that made his cock twitch hard in his sweats. You sat up, cupped his chin, and tilted his flushed face up to you, thumb brushing the mess he’d made of his mouth.

“Of course you can, baby,” you said sweetly.

You pulled him up, swapped places, and pushed him back onto the couch. Then you opened his knees wide and swung a leg over to straddle his lap again. The heat of your bare pussy settled right over the massive bulge in his sweats and he whimpered, hips jerking up helplessly.

“How can I say no after you made me come like that?”

You took his shaking hands in yours and guided them slowly up your sides, over your ribs, until his palms were cupping your breasts. Dex gave them a tentative squeeze, thumbs brushing over your tight nipples.

You laughed softly, eyes sparkling. “You like them?”

He swallowed hard, throat working. “Yes,” he breathed, voice completely wrecked. “They’re… they’re perfect. Fuck, you’re perfect.”

His lips closed around one breast with a loud, wet, noisy suck. He moaned against your skin, eyes fluttering shut, tongue swirling as he pulled you deeper into his mouth.

You grinned, threading your fingers through his messy hair and holding him there while he made those shameless, hungry noises. Only then did you reach down between you and palm the thick, heavy outline of his cock through his sweats. Your eyes widened. A delighted little gasp slipped out as you felt exactly how big he was—rock-solid, fat, straining so hard the fabric was barely holding him in.

“Oh my word,” you murmured, giving him a slow, appreciative stroke that made his head fall back with a moan, your nipple still caught between his lips. “You just keep getting better and better, don’t you?”

Dex’s hips bucked hard into your hand, a pathetic little whine escaping around your breast because your touch was the first real one he’d felt in months.

You squeezed him again, loving the way his ripped abs flexed under your thighs. “No wonder you always walk like that…” Another stroke, thumb circling the wet spot at the tip until he gasped. “Poor baby’s been carrying this around the apartment every day and I never knew.”

Dex’s eyes locked on your hand, watching every lazy movement like it was the hottest thing he’d ever seen. “Oh God—oh my God—fuck,” he gasped, hips twitching up into your palm without any control left. “Yeah—your hand feels so good—”

You gave him a firmer squeeze and his whole body jerked, those perfect abs clenching hard.

“Holy shit—uh—oh God. Fuck, you squeezing me like that—oh God—oh—” His head tipped all the way back, eyes half-lidded behind the blur of pleasure.

You leaned in close, lips brushing his ear. “Poor baby… already leaking all over my hand and I’ve barely touched you. Bet this feels a hell of a lot better than fucking your own fist thinking about me every night, doesn’t it?”

Dex’s whole body jolted. His eyes flew open, wide and stunned. His breath hitched while a shy, embarrassed little laugh caught in his throat as he stared at you like you’d just punched him in the chest with pure affection.

“Oh, it’s just… no one’s ever, uh, talked to me like this before,” he stammered, flashing that sheepish little smile that made your chest do something stupid. “No one’s ever said stuff like that to me. I—I’m sorry, I sound so stupid, I just—fuck, keep talking to me like that, please? God, it’s so hot I don’t know what to do with myself—”

You smiled against his ear and gave the shell a soft, wicked nibble that made his hips jerk again. “Well then,” you whispered, “has no one ever played with this fat cock the way I’m gonna?”

Dex opened his mouth to answer, but the words died the second your hand slipped under the waistband of his sweats. Your fingers wrapped around his bare, throbbing length and gave one long, slow stroke from base to tip.

“You’re so… Mm—you’re so—fuck—” His sentence crumbled. He tried to keep going, tried to tell you how no one had ever touched him like this, how he’d jerked off in the shower every single morning just so he wouldn’t walk around the apartment hard for you, but every drag of your hand wiped his brain clean. “I was gonna say—I mean—no one’s—Jesus Christ your hand is so soft—I can’t—I can’t even think when you—mmph—”

His head fell back against the couch while he kept trying anyway, lips moving, desperate to finish a single coherent thought, but every slow pump of your fist stole another piece of him. His abs clenched, thighs shaking under you, cock twitching hard in your grip as you stroked him nice and luxurious, spreading all that pre-cum until the wet sounds filled the room.

“I’ve never—no one’s ever touched me like—fuck, like that—slow—oh my god, please don’t stop, I sound so pathetic but I— I’ve dreamed about your hand—every night—and it’s so much better—I can’t—I can’t even finish a—fuck—”

You watched him with adoration in your eyes,  tilting your head and shut him up with your lips, kissing him so eagerly it stole the rest of his broken sentence right out of his mouth.

You swallowed it instantly, tongue sliding past his lips like you already owned every sound he made. He tried to kiss you back, clumsy and desperate, but you took control so completely that all he could do was whimper into your mouth while you explored him with strokes of your tongue that promised exactly what that same mouth could do somewhere much lower.

“Mm—fuck—mmph—” he tried again, the words vibrating against your lips, but you just kissed him deeper, twisting your wrist on the upstroke until his whole body jerked and another moan spilled straight into your mouth.

You pulled back just enough to reach for his glasses on the cushion beside you. With gentle fingers you slid them back onto his face.

“There,” you murmured, sweet as sugar. “I think you need to see me suck this dick in high definition.”

Dex blinked hard behind the lenses, the world snapping back into sharp, perfect focus around your wicked little smile. Before he could even try to form words, you slid off his lap, dropped to your knees between his spread thighs, and settled in. 

He watched, completely helpless and shaking, as you hooked your fingers into the waistband of his sweats and boxers and dragged them down his hips in one smooth tug. His cock sprang free, thick and heavy, and your fingers curled right around the base.

Dex’s hands flew up to cover his face, glasses knocked crooked. A muffled, delirious little laugh slipped out between his palms. “Fuck… I’m the luckiest man alive right now.”

You gave his cock a slow, appreciative stroke, then looked up at him with that firm, commanding glint in your eyes. “Look at me, Ben. Never take your eyes off me. Got it?”

Dex nodded so fast his glasses slipped down his nose again, eyes wide behind them, locked on your face like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to earth. 

You leaned in and pressed the softest kiss to the flushed, leaking head of his cock. Then lower. And lower. Before you smacked the heavy length against your cheek with deliberate, filthy slaps.

“God, you’re so heavy,” you teased, rubbing the thick shaft along your cheek while your eyes stayed glued to his. “How the hell do you think this is supposed to fit anywhere, huh? You’re gonna have to split me open, aren’t you?”

Dex let out a long, wrecked groan, thighs trembling on either side of you. He couldn’t look away. Not when you stuck your tongue out flat, laid his cock across it, and started smacking the shaft against the warm, wet muscle in solid, teasing taps.

He was going to die. He was actually going to die right here on the couch with his glasses on and your pretty mouth teasing the absolute hell out of him, and he’d thank you for it with his last breath.

“G-go choke on it first,” he blurted in a sudden rush of bravery, then immediately looked mortified. “I-I mean… if you want to…”

Your eyebrow snapped up, a wicked little grin spreading across your face as you nodded like you were proud of him for saying that.

Dex’s heart slammed against his ribs so hard he felt dizzy.

You leaned in closer, lips brushing the leaking tip as you looked up at him through your lashes. “Is that what you fantasize about when you jerk off in your room at night?” you purred. “Me choking on this fat cock? Gagging all pretty for you while you watch?”

Dex’s mouth fell open, hips twitching helplessly toward your face. “Y-yes—fuck, yes. Every night. Every single night—”

You didn’t let him finish.

The second the words left his lips you took the head of his cock into your mouth, and Dex gasped so hard it felt like the air had been punched out of his lungs.

It was too much. Too good. Velvety and hot and so fucking lucious that his whole spine lit up like a live wire. A strangled groan left him as pleasure streaked through every nerve ending at once. His hands flew to the couch cushions, knuckles white, because if he didn’t hold on he’d probably float straight out of his body.

You sank down slowly, taking more of him, tongue pressed flat underneath as your lips stretched tight around his thickness. Dex’s glasses fogged at the edges. His abs clenched hard, thighs shaking on either side of you.

You licked your way back up to the head, suctioning hard, then swirled your tongue over it, dipping into the slit to taste the steady leak of pre-cum like you were savoring him. Dex’s head fell back for half a second before he remembered your order and forced his eyes back down to you, chest heaving.

God. How many times had he imagined you on your knees just like this; sucking him slow and deep while you looked up at him with those pretty eyes?

Every single one of those fantasies paled. They were pathetic little shadows compared to the reality of you. The intense, electrifying heat that scorched every nerve ending as you lowered yourself again, sliding your sweet, wet mouth further down his shaft until he felt the back of your throat flutter around him. His hips jerked involuntarily, a choked “f-fuck—” ripping out of him before he could stop it.

Pleasure surged through him and he arched back sharply, the feeling so intense he nearly yanked out of your mouth. But he rode those waves, blood pounding hot through his veins as his cock throbbed with incredible bliss. You sucked him hard and sensually, lips stretched tight around him and cheeks hollowing as you milked more ecstasy from him than he'd ever felt in his life.

When you came back up you let him go with a wet pop and smiled up at him, eyes sparkling like you were enjoying the hell out of wrecking him. Your smile made his cock throb and jerk, and you chased it with your tongue and laughed, taking it back in with that delicious, silky warmth.

“Just like that—” Dex moaned, voice tight with ecstasy. He slid one hand into your hair, caressing first, then gripping the back of your neck like he needed something solid to hold onto. 

“It feels so good holy shit.” he breathed as you gradually increased your pace. You wrapped both hands around the base of his cock and started stroking in time with your mouth, faster now. Dex’s head dropped back against the couch again before dragging his gaze back down. He couldn’t miss this. Not for a single second.

His hand gently cradled and guided your head, fingers weaving through your hair as the overwhelming desire to lock you in place and thrust into your mouth consumed him. 

His free hand joined the first, sinking in and tightening his hold as the raw sensuality left him dizzy and breathless. He started rocking his hips slowly, testing, mesmerized by the way your eyes fluttered as you took him deeper.

But then you smiled around his cock and sucked harder. That was all it took.

Dex drove in faster, deeper, his cock slick and shiny with your spit as he thrust up your throat. You took him beautifully—until he forced just a little too far. Your throat fluttered, then clenched like a fist as you choked, the sloppy, gagging buzz shooting down his entire cock.

He froze for a second, glasses slipping down his nose, panic and lust warring on his face. 

“S-sorry—fuck, that’s so hot, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry but don’t stop—please don’t stop—” He was panting, glasses fogged, hips still rocking again and again, savoring the way your throat squeezed every time you gagged softly around him. He couldn’t help it even while apologizing. 

You just hummed around him like you owned every inch, eyes watering but never breaking that locked-in stare, taking him even deeper on the next thrust, letting him fuck your throat raw. 

He was going to come. God dammit, he was going to explode like a firework in your mouth any second now.

But nope. You pulled off with a wet, filthy pop, lips shiny and puffy, a shiny string of spit still linking you to his throbbing tip like a naughty little bridge.

“W-why’d you stop?” he blurted, eyes wide like a deer in headlights. “Did I—did I do something wrong? Fuck, I’m sorry, I got carried away, I just— I was so close.”

You shook your head, flashing that wicked little grin as you crawled straight up his body and swung a leg over, straddling his lap like you were claiming the throne. One hand cupped those full, heavy, aching balls, rolling them nice and slow while you dragged your soaked pussy along the underside of his cock, slicking him up marking your territory.

“I’m not wasting a single drop of this,” you whispered, all husky and low, thumb stroking that crazy-sensitive spot right behind his balls. “You’re spilling every bit inside me.”

Dex looked like his brain had officially powered off. “I-inside you? Holy shit—aren’t you scared you might—?”

You chuckled and ground down harder, sliding all over him like you owned the ride. “Got any condoms stashed somewhere, cutie?” you asked, all innocent and sweet while your hips kept rolling.

Dex just gaped, fish-mouthed and speechless. “....no.”

You let out a bright, delighted little laugh and climbed off his lap, “Guess we’re doing this raw then, huh?” You flopped onto your back on the couch, hair fanning out across the cushions, and hooked your knees up high, feet planted on the edge.

With zero shame, you reached down and spread yourself open for him, two fingers parting your slick, puffy folds so he could see everything. Your little hole clenched visibly under his stare, shiny and dripping from how much you’d enjoyed choking on him.

“Look at what you did to me, Benjamin,” you purred. “See how fucking wet I am? It’s because of you. My poor little pussy’s been clenching around nothing the whole time I was sucking you off, just thinking about how you’re finally gonna stuff me full.”

Dex made a strangled noise, eyes glued to the way your fingers teased your entrance, dipping just the tip of one inside before pulling back to circle your clit. You were so ready and glistening and open for him it hurt.

“Mmm, you like the view, don’t you?” you teased, tilting your hips up a little more so he could see even deeper. “Look how this little hole keeps fluttering. It’s so empty, Dex. Been waiting months for this fat cock to stretch it open. You gonna give it to me? Gonna give me all that cum you’ve been saving for me every night? Or are you just gonna sit there staring like a cute little pervert while I play with myself?”

Dex’s glasses slipped down his nose again, “No, I’m going to give you anything you want.”

You just grinned wider, “Then come here and take what’s yours, nerd.”

He scrambled between your spread thighs like a man on a mission and a panic attack at the same time, knees sinking into the couch cushions. His hands shook as he gripped the backs of your thighs, lining himself up. The fat head of his cock nudged against your slick entrance and he actually whimpered at how hot and wet you felt.

“Okay, okay. Look, I’ll just… m-maybe, maybe you should be on top, you know?” he blurted. “S-so you’re, um… yeah, so y-you can, like, control it? I don’t wanna hurt—”

You laughed softly, reaching up to tug him closer by the back of his neck. “It’s fine, Dex.”

“I don’t—I don’t wanna squish you—” he tried again, eyes wide behind his glasses, cock throbbing against your pussy like it had a mind of its own.

You laughed, low and fond. “Just go, Dex.”

“Just go,” he echoed, half-laughing, half-panicking. “Yeah, just… uh. Uh. Uh. Fuck. Oh, fuck.”

The head slipped inside you, stretching you open in one smooth glide. Dex’s eyes dropped to where your bodies met and he forgot how to breathe entirely. You threw your head back and moaned as your pussy parted for him, taking every thick inch until he was buried to the hilt, heavy balls pressed against your ass.

“Oh shit,” he groaned, voice wrecked. “I’m inside you—you feel so fucking good.”

He pulled back slowly, and your pussy clenched around him like it didn’t want to let him go. Then he drove back in until his tip met a dead end, stretching you open all over again. You grabbed his right wrist and slapped his big palm straight onto your breast. His fingers squeezed hard on instinct. At the same time you caught his left hand and pressed his thumb against your bottom lip. 

The second he felt the wet heat of your mouth close around it, Dex’s eyes flew open wide behind his glasses. You sucked on his thumb like it was his cock, matching every thrust, moaning around it shamelessly.

“Jesus Christ,” he whimpered, voice cracking. “You’re—fuck, look at you. I’m not gonna last if you keep looking at me like that, baby. I swear I’m trying but you feel too good and you’re sucking on my thumb and I—oh my god—”

You just smiled around his thumb and sucked harder, never breaking eye contact, letting him feel exactly how much you wanted every desperate, awkward, perfect inch of him.

Dex couldn’t stop staring down between your bodies. His thick cock was sliding in and out of your pussy in these dragging strokes, shiny and glistening with how wet you were. Every time he pulled back he could see the way your folds stretched around him, clinging tight, and every time he pushed back in he watched himself disappear inside you until his hips met yours. He was completely obsessed with the sight, breathing hard through his mouth like he’d never seen anything so hot in his life.

Without thinking he slid his hand down from your breast and pressed the heel of his palm firmly against your lower stomach, right above where he was buried deep. The sudden pressure made everything feel impossibly tighter. You whined loud around his thumb, the sound vibrating against his skin as your pussy fluttered hard around his cock.

“Fuck—did that feel good?” he panted, eyes still glued to the spot where you were joined, pressing down a little harder as he thrusts.

As if guided by that lust alone, he began to thrust into a deep, forceful rhythm, his rigid cock stretching you each time. You moaned hummingly with each stroke, feeling the power of his hips as they slapped against you, imagining the strong muscles of his thighs flexing and straining to drive his cock into you deeper and harder every time. He crashed against you, his short breaths matching his pace, his moans of pleasure spiking as senseless words spilled from his lips.

You pulled his thumb from your mouth with a wet pop, grabbed his wrist again, and swapped it for the two fingers he'd buried inside you earlier, sucking it until your cheeks hollow.

Dex’s rhythm faltered for half a second, then slammed back in even harder.

“Holy shit I don't think I can’t take it,” he panted, voice cracking high and desperate. “I can’t take it. Ugh, you have to come soon. You have to come soon. Oh, fuck—”

He was panting and groaning as he thrust and bucked, hips snapping forward like he was chasing something he couldn’t quite catch. His eyes brightened with this wild, pleasure-pain look you’d never seen before; glassy, almost frantic, like he was right on the razor’s edge and hanging on by a thread. His glasses were crooked, hair sticking to his forehead, mouth open on every broken moan.

“I’m so close— I’m so fucking close but I need you to come first, please, I need to feel you coming on my cock before I fill you up, I can’t— I can’t hold it— fuck, please come for me—”

He was so close. You could feel it in the way his cock swelled even thicker inside you, the way his thrusts turned sloppy and urgent. He needed your release, your surrender, and he would detonate the second you gave it to him.

You reached up, grabbed his face with both hands, and pulled him down so your foreheads touched. “You can take it—keep going,” you gasped, voice shaky but firm. “Put your mouth on my neck, baby—right now.”

He obeyed instantly like the good, desperate boy he was. A quiet, “o-okay—yeah, fuck, okay” tumbled out of him as he dipped his head. You gasped and swallowed hard, tilting your chin back to give him more room, your whole body shaking with the force of every thrust. One of your hands slid between your bodies so you could rub tight, frantic circles over your clit, chasing that last spark.

Dex’s lips found your throat first, kissing the throbbing pulse there, then his tongue dragged up the side of your neck in one long, wet stripe. When it danced along the shell of your earlobe you shivered hard, a full-body tremble that made your pussy clench around him. And when he dipped the tip of his tongue right inside your ear you sobbed.

“F-fuck, I love it when you moan like that.” he whimpered against your ear.

You grabbed a fistful of his hair and tugged, forcing his mouth back to your neck while your fingers kept rubbing faster. “Say dirty things to me, Dex,” you panted, voice husky. “Tell me how good I feel. Tell me what you’re gonna do when you come inside me. Don’t stop talking.”

“Yeah—fuck, I’m trying,” Dex panted against your skin, hips snapping forward in these desperate little thrusts. “If I talk to you, you’ll come, right? Yeah? I want that. I want you to come so fucking bad—”

You nodded hard. “Yes—fuck, yes! Just say all the nasty shit you say to yourself when you jerk off thinking about me.”

“Fuck, listen to you,” he groaned, suddenly finding his rhythm. “Sucking my cock earlier like you wanted to steal my soul, choking on it like a greedy little whore, and now you’re begging me to pump you full?” He slammed into you hard. “You want this fat load in your pussy that bad?” Another brutal thrust. “After months of prancing around in those tiny dresses, bending over right in front of me just to watch me lose my goddamn mind?” Slam. 

“God, you’re such a dirty fucking slut for your nerdy roommate’s cock, aren’t you?” He licked into your ear, hips pounding harder. “That’s it—rub that clit faster, baby. I’m gonna flood this sloppy little cunt until it’s dripping down your thighs. Come on my cock—come on, come on—”

“Oh fuck—Dex!” Your whole body seized in a convulsive orgasm, pussy clamping down around him, milking his cock as you screamed against his shoulder. 

He cried out and flooded into you, bucking and thrusting as your pussy drained him. Slick with sweat you writhed together, your voices echoing through the room, your cries and moans mingling as you milked him, drained him, sucked every drop of cum from his pulsing cock as he emptied himself into you completely.

His rhythm finally gave out and he melted into you, still shuddering deep inside while the last of his cum spilled free. Every twitch was met with your walls hugging him tight, like they were determined to wring him dry and keep him forever—the same way you’d just been completely his. Both of you panting hard, bodies flushed and shiny with sweat, you lay there pressed together, still connected, floating in that beautiful, ageless after-sex haze.

You were heaving, chest rising and falling under him. “Holy shit…”

Dex lifted up on shaky arms, glasses crooked, hair a sweaty mess, and gazed down at you like you’d personally hung the moon. His hazel eyes were soft and dazed and so full of wonder it made your chest ache. He leaned in slowly, lips parting like he was about to kiss you for real this time—

—and then the unmistakable sound of a key sliding into the front door lock echoed through the apartment.

Both of you froze.

“Shit—shitshitshit—” Dex whisper-yelled, scrambling off you so fast he nearly fell off the couch. While you both snatched up whatever clothes you could reach.

“My room—now!” You hissed, dragging Dex who is clutching his sweats and hoodie like a lifeline as you yanked behind you as fast as your shaky legs would go. Your room was closest and didn’t face the front door—thank god.

You barely made it inside, slamming the door behind you just as the living room lights flicked on. Dex pressed himself flat against the wall right behind the door, stark naked, cock still half-hard and glistening, one hand clamped over his mouth so he wouldn’t breathe too loud. 

You snatched your short silk robe off the chair and threw it on, barely tying it before—

Knock knock knock.

“Hey, what’s taking you so long?” your roommate called through the door, voice bright and clueless. “We’re all waiting for you at the pool!”

You cleared your throat, trying to sound normal and failing spectacularly. “Sorry! Couldn’t find my swimwear. I’ll be there in a sec!”

Dex’s eyes were huge behind his glasses. He looked like he was one second from passing out.

You heard her footsteps start to retreat...then stop, “Uh… your bikini top is literally on the couch out here.”

“Oh really?” you called back, somehow managing to sound breezy even though you were standing there in nothing but a barely-tied silk robe with your very naked, very well-fucked roommate hiding behind the door. “I must’ve dropped it. I’ll grab it soon! You should go ahead, I won’t be long!”

You heard your roommate laugh under her breath, something that sounded suspiciously like "okay weirdo.” before her footsteps finally padded away down the hall. The front door clicked shut behind her.

Dex let out a huge, shaky breath, shoulders sagging like the weight of the entire universe had just lifted off him.

“You… you should go,” he mumbled, voice all hoarse and uncertain as he rubbed the back of his neck. “They’re waiting for you at the pool and I— I don’t wanna get them suspicious of you or anything…”

You didn’t answer with words.

Instead, you walked straight up to him, rose onto your highest tiptoes, and pressed your body flush against his. The thin silk robe did almost nothing to separate your skin from his.

You cupped his face with both hands and kissed him once—soft and sweet, tasting the leftover desperation on his lips. Then again, a little slower. And a third time, lingering like you were promising more.

When you finally pulled back just enough to speak, your lips still brushed his.