🂡 MAYHEM 🂡

You unlocked the door with the spare key he’d given you two weeks ago and stepped inside quietly, the apartment was dim except for the glow of the television.

Dex glanced up from the couch the second you entered, and your heart fluttered. It was something that happened every single time he looked at you now.

“You’re late,” he said quietly, though there was no irritation in it.

“You say that like I wasn’t wrist-deep in someone’s abdominal wound an hour ago.” You said closing the door.

Dex stood immediately, taking the takeout bag from your hands before you could protest.

“You should be resting.” He said, kissing your forehead.

“And yet here I am.”

His eyes swept over your face carefully. “You’re exhausted.”

“Eh, I can sleep when I’m dead.”

“That’s not funny.” He said sternly. 

Your chest warmed slightly, it still affected you how protective he was.

You kicked off your shoes near the door before making your way toward the sofa. The oversized hoodie slid further down one shoulder as you collapsed dramatically against the cushions.

Dex’s eyes immediately flicked toward the exposed skin, and your stomach tingled faintly beneath his attention.

“You stole another hoodie,” he observed.

“You gave me the key. That means what’s yours is now mine.” You teased.

A quiet huff of amusement escaped him as he sat beside you, close enough that his thigh pressed warmly against yours, and you melted into his side automatically as Dex handed you your drink before reaching for the remote.

“You already started the movie without me?” You playfully whined after taking a sip of your drink.

“You were forty-three minutes late.” He said, wrapping his arm around your shoulder.

“You timed it?”

“Yes.”

You laughed softly as you placed your drink on the table.

A month ago you couldn’t imagine laughing this easily around him, now you two barely spend an evening without talking.

Whether it was quick lunches between your jobs, or movie nights that led to one of you staying over, or long phone calls where you fell asleep listening to his breathing over the phone because neither of you wanted to hang up first.

And somewhere along the way, being around Dex had stopped feeling impossible and started feeling like something you never wanted to end.

Dex reached into the takeout bag and immediately handed you the container of battered chicken balls.

You paused. “I didn’t tell you what I ordered.”

“You always get chicken balls.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is.”

“It isn’t.”

Dex looked at you. “…It is.”

“Ugh, fine.” You rolled your eyes before eating one.

A quiet smile tugged at Dex’s mouth as he adjusted the blanket over your legs.

The movement made you pause. “You do that every time.”

“What?”

“The blanket thing.”

“You get cold.” He stated.

“You sound ninety.” You teased him.

“Says the girl who wore three layers in September.” He teased back.

“It was windy.” You defended yourself.

“It was sixty-eight degrees.”

You gasped dramatically. “I can’t believe you’re attacking me in my own relationship.”

A loud laugh escaped him.

You immediately pointed at him. “Ha! I win!”

Dex blinked. “What?”

“You laughed.”

His expression flattened instantly. "I didn't."

“Oh my God.” You grinned and immediately reached for your phone.

Dex narrowed his eyes. “What are you doing?”

“Making a note.” You smiled.

“No.” Dex said, trying to hide his smile. 

“Dear Diary.” You spoke aloud whilst typing.

“No.”

“Today Dex laughed at my joke.”

“No.” He said despite smiling wide.

“Witnessed by me and eleven and a half battered chicken balls.”

Before you could continue, Dex leaned over and stole your phone from your hand as you laughed so hard you nearly spilled your food.

“Stop, thief.”

“You started it.”

“I was documenting a rare event.”

“It’s not rare with you, baby.”

You froze before your smile widened slowly. “You laugh around me now?”

A flicker of something warm crossed his face before he looked back at the television, and your chest tightened pleasantly.

God, you loved the simplicity of this, the normalcy of just sitting together without worrying about anything else.

At some point you ended up half-sprawled across him. Not intentionally at first, one minute you were sitting beside him, and the next your legs were draped across his lap while Dex absentmindedly traced circles against your calves.

The movie continued playing, but you weren’t paying much attention anymore and were mostly watching Dex pretend he wasn’t invested in the plot.

“He’s the killer.” He stated, pointing at a character you’ve already forgotten the name of.

“He isn’t.” You replied despite having no idea what’s happening.

“He absolutely is.”

“He isn’t.”

“You sound very confident.” He smirks at you while gently squeezing your calf.

“Because I’m right.” You said while tapping his stomach with your foot.

Twenty minutes later, the character was revealed to not be the killer as you looked at him triumphantly, and Dex stared at the television.

“I hate this movie.” He sighed.

A laugh burst out of you. “No, you don’t.”

“I do.”

“You’ve been paying attention the whole time.”

Silence.

“That’s not the point.”

Your grin widened until Dex shifted beneath you for the third time and you noticed something was wrong.

Your eyes narrowed slightly. “Are you in pain?”

“I’m fine.” He shrugged before subtly wincing.

“You just moved like an eighty-year-old man.” You said pulling your legs from his lap and ignoring his hands that were trying to pull you back.

Dex gave you a flat look as you leaned closer immediately, your hand sliding instinctively across his back.

“You’re hurting,” you murmured softly.

“It’s nothing.”

“You’re terrible at lying to me.” You said, kissing his cheek.

His jaw tightened slightly despite leaning into your kiss but as your fingers brushed his spine, Dex tensed sharply.

Your eyebrows lifted. “Dex.”

“It’ll pass.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

He exhaled slowly through his nose before finally muttering, “My back hurts.”

You stared at him gently while running your other hand through his hair. “Alright, baby. Take your shirt off.”

Dex blinked once. “…What?”

“You heard me.”

His eyes darkened instantly as warmth crawled into your face.

“Not like that,” you mumbled. “I’m offering to help.”

“You worked all day.”

“I know.”

“You’re drained.”

“And your back still hurts.”

Dex watched you quietly for a moment as something soft flickered behind his eyes.

“You always do this.”

You frowned slightly. “Do what?”

“Take care of me.” His voice was quieter now.

You paused.

“You’re my soulmate.” You say kissing him. “It’s my job.”

“No.” His hand found yours, fingers intertwining. “It’s just who you are.”

You fell quiet as you looked down at your intertwined fingers, and for a moment, neither of you spoke.

“You do it too.” You whisper as your thumb stroked his knuckles.

Dex’s gaze lifted. “What?”

“You take care of me.”

His eyebrows immediately rose. “Oh, do I?”

“You do.” You smile at his teasing.

“I don’t think so.”

“You bought me food because I forgot to eat.” You say, pulling your hands away and wrapping your arms around his neck.

“You forgot three meals.” He states kissing your arm.

“You reorganised my medicine cabinet.”

“It was chaos in there.”

“You walked across Manhattan because I said I had a bad day.”

Dex paused before looking away, which immediately told you everything. "You needed me."

Your chest warmed. “See?”

His thumb brushed softly across your hand. “Fine, you win.”

You smiled as he sighed jokingly.

The teasing in his voice only made the warmth spread further through your chest.

Because despite how obsessive and possessive Dex could get over you, he loved taking care of you. His gaze lingered on you another second before he finally reached for the hem of his shirt.

Your heartbeat immediately betrayed you, which was annoying because you’d seen him shirtless before several times, and yet it still affected you every single time.

Dex pulled the fabric over his head before tossing it aside as your eyes dropped instinctively to the muscles of his back before focusing on the visible tension running through his shoulders.

“You look tense,” you said honestly, running your fingers over his spinal scar.

“That’s an accurate sentence.”

A quiet snort escaped him before he shifted forward slightly on the couch as you moved behind him carefully, your knees pressing into the cushions as your hands settled gently against his shoulders.

The second your palms touched his skin, Dex’s entire body went still beneath your hands as you swallowed softly before letting your healing powers slowly warm your palms.

A quiet breath escaped Dex immediately.

“There you go,” you murmured softly. “That’s the reaction I was wanting.”

His head dipped slightly forward as your fingers worked carefully against the tight muscles near his shoulders. The room slowly relaxed as the noise of the TV hummed quietly in the background, and Dex’s breathing gradually slowed beneath your hands.

You could feel the tension melting out of him little by little, and a soft smile grew on your face because Dex relaxed so rarely.

But the more comfortable he became beneath your touch, the more his shoulders loosened, his jaw unclenching, his breathing deepening, and the softer he got.

Until eventually he looked peaceful.

Your chest tightened pleasantly at his relaxed expression.

“You’re falling asleep,” you whispered softly.

“No, I’m not.” He mumbled back.

“You literally sound half dead.”

“I’m relaxed.”

The quiet honesty in his voice made warmth spread through you. Your fingers moved carefully lower across his back, easing the lingering pain there as the healing warmth spread beneath your palms.

Dex let out another low breath.

“You feel good.” He whispered.

Heat rushed instantly into your face. “You’re impossible.”

“I’m honest.”

“That’s arguably worse.”

A faint smile tugged at his mouth, and you stared at it for a second too long.

God, you really liked him.

The realisation no longer felt sharp anymore, now it felt warm, steady, and safe. Your hands slowed slightly against his skin, and Dex noticed immediately.

Of course he did.

His hand reached back carefully, fingers wrapping gently around your wrist. The touch sent warmth spiraling up your arm instantly.

Your breath caught softly as Dex slowly turned enough to look back at you, and the air changed into something heavy and wanting. His eyes moved slowly over your face before settling on your mouth, and your heartbeat stumbled hard enough to hurt.

“Tell me to stop,” he said quietly.

The vulnerability in those words shattered something inside your chest as your fingers slowly slid to his jaw.

Then you leaned forward and kissed him softly at first, his warm lips against yours. Almost hesitant before Dex made a quiet sound against your mouth that made you tingle with want.

His hand tightened gently around your wrist before sliding carefully up your arm like he was afraid to hold you too tightly, and you kissed him again before he could overthink it. Deeper this time, more certain with what you wanted.

Dex turned fully toward you after that, one hand cupping your face carefully as though he’d been wanting to do this for weeks.

Maybe he had, and maybe you had to.

The soulmate bond burned warmly beneath your skin as your fingers slid into his hair, and Dex’s kiss turned more intense, as if he was overwhelmed by you.

When you finally pulled back slightly for air, his forehead dropped against yours, his breathing hard and his eyes shut.

“You’re shaking,” you whispered softly.

Dex let out a weak laugh. “You kissed me first.”

“And? I have done it before.”

“Baby, you have no idea what that does to me.”

Warmth spread low in your stomach.

Your fingers brushed gently across his cheek before you kissed his cheek softly. The second your lips touched his skin, Dex inhaled sharply, like the tenderness itself affected him more than anything else.

His hands slid carefully to your waist, gripping possessively but still giving you room to move away if you wanted. Instead you kissed him again before he could speak, and this time Dex responded immediately.

Needier now and less restrained, like he was finally allowing himself to want you more openly than before.

Your hands slid down his chest slowly as he pulled you into his lap with startling gentleness for someone capable of so much violence. The contrast made your heartbeat stutter because with you he was always gentle. Always.

The kiss deepened slowly until your entire body felt warm with it.

His hands traced carefully along your waist beneath the oversized hoodie, almost reverent in the way he touched you as if he still couldn’t fully believe you were real and were his.

You could feel how hard he was trying not to rush, how carefully controlled every movement of his remained.

“You okay?” he murmured softly against your mouth.

The concern and neediness in his voice made your chest warm.

You nodded immediately. “Yes.”

Dex searched your face for another second before kissing you again, like your answer meant everything to him.

Clothes disappeared slowly after that, with the moment not being rushed or feeling frantic.

Just shared breaths, wandering hands, and soft kisses that blurred together until you barely remembered where one touch ended and another began.

And through all of it, Dex never stopped looking at you like you were everything that he ever wanted, touching you like you were something sacred, kissing you like you would vanish, and loving you like it was the last thing he would do.

Whether it was kissing your scar, touching your skin, feeling your heartbeat. All of it felt intentional and worshipful. And when your fingers brushed the soulmate mark on his skin, Dex shuddered beneath your hands.

“Careful,” he whispered hoarsely into the kiss, his thrusts faltering for a moment.

You smiled softly against his mouth. “Sensitive?”

“For you? Always.” He replies, kissing you deeper.

And the honesty in his voice was what made you finish for the second time that night.

The apartment settled into a soft quiet as the New York rain tapped gently against the windows. The television had long since become background noise with neither of you paying it attention.

You lay curled against Dex’s chest beneath the blankets, comfortable at his side, while his fingers traced lazy patterns against your bare arm.

Neither of you had spoken for several minutes, but the silence wasn’t awkward or regretful, it was just peaceful. The kind that only existed when you felt completely comfortable with someone.

Your eyes drifted half shut as his hand moved from you arm and slowly through your hair.

“Tired?” he murmured quietly.

“Mhm.”

“You overworked yourself again.” He said, kissing the side of your head.

“And you got blood on my sofa again last week.”

“I said I was sorry.”

“You bled on the expensive cushion.”

A quiet laugh rumbled beneath your cheek, and you smiled sleepily against his chest before tilting your head up slightly.

Dex looked down at you immediately.

Your fingers brushed lightly against his jaw before you leaned up enough to press another soft kiss against his lips, and his eyes fluttered shut. And there it was again, that softness, that peace you had been wanting for years.

You settled back against him slowly as warmth spread through your chest because somewhere in the past month this had become real.

Not a fantasy, not a twist of your already intertwined fate, but real. 

And lying there tangled together in the quiet warmth of his apartment, you realised you trusted him enough to give him every vulnerable piece of yourself, and he trusted you in the same way. 

Now something that scared you instead felt a little like home.