I confuse instinct for desire-isn't bite also touch?
Benjamin Poindexter x F!Nurse!Reader
cw: 18+, obsessive behavior, patient/nurse dynamic, unhealthy attachment, psychological themes, power imbalance, cunnilingus, dry humping, psychiatric ward setting, unethical relationship, reader is hungry, dex is touch starved, bring back fingers in mouth.
A/N: Idk I've literally never posted anything on here before so bear with me lmao. Also english isn't my native language so excuse any typos or weird grammar. Might be a bit short though but hope you enjoy or whatever <3.
He was starting to get obsessed. It didn't even matter if you were actually right in front of him or miles away; the second he conjured your image in his mind, his pupils would blow wide, setting off a quiet storm of chemicals under his skin. This was never supposed to happen. It wasn't part of the plan. After being admitted to a mental hospital as fallowing his run in with kingpin and daredevil, he had to deal with a broken spine and a forced government admission into the psychiatric ward. He was restricted from any solid objects, of course, the legal papers citing his hands as weapons. He felt almost prideful about that. But it did lead to him being monitored like a hawk, said surveillance making the hair on his neck stand up at times. He was used to being the watcher: not the watched.
Sometimes at the mandated therapy sessions he'd catch a glimpse at his sheet and scoff. His list of mental disorders looked like alphabet soup. From BPD to OCD to ASPD, it looked like he was collecting mental illnesses like this was a game. But he never trusted these 'people' in here anyway. They weren't Dr. Mercer. Nobody else could ever truly get him. Not like she did. Well, except maybe one.
You were one of the nurses at the care facility, and practically a fresh grad full of ambition to help those in need. Even though you hadn't spoken a single word to him about any of it, he had figured it all out. Dex found himself admiring that optimism, someone not yet disillusioned by reality and not cynical like the other caretakers. This was someone he could actually marvel at and maybe he might actually could find something of his own within it.
The ward staff of course took notice of his odd compliance with the one specific nurse, so of course they got assigned to all his tasks. You walked in, clipboard for his psych evaluation and some pills in a cup in hand, sitting before him. Dex eagerly perked up from his bed, almost like a puppy when it's owner came home. He crossed his legs on the padded bad (he could admit he preferred this over the damn straight jacket he was forced in when he first came in) and shot them an almost sickening giddy smile.
“Morning, nurse” he hummed, eyeing you up and down with that shit-eating grin plastered across his face—the one you knew boded no good. The sudden flash of movement as you entered his room rattled you for a second but you kept your composure and didn't give anything away. You turned to him and asked with a genuine smile. When you smiled, it felt like your eyes were smiling right along with you. “Morning, Benjamin. So tell me, how are we feeling today, hm?”
Dex’s grin softened at the sound of his name on your lips. Benjamin. No one said it like that anymore. Not since Mercer.
He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, fingers laced together like he was about to confess a sin instead of answering a simple question.
“Better” he said after a beat. “Better than yesterday.”
Another pause. His hazel eyes flickered up to yours, searching for something. Approval? Disbelief? He hated how much he cared what you thought.
“I slept through the night.” A small victory in this padded prison they called healing.
There you were-holding your ground in front of him, even as your pulse hammered against your ribs-. Eyes stayed locked, neither willing to be the first to surrender. It eased the knot in your chest, believing he regarded you with too much indifference to ever bother laying a finger on you. Knowing that still didn't keep the shivers from racing down your spine. You swallowed, keeping that fragile smile pinned to your lips, and let your velvet-soft voice slip out. “Better, huh? That ought to be promising for your case. Honestly, you've caught me off guard with how chatty you are today. Glad to see you got your sleep on track. I know you and sleeping don't exactly get along.” You couldn't stop a small chuckle from slipping out.
Dex fought the urge to roll his eyes. He didn’t want to be rude or ungrateful, really. But the way you spoke to him, with that soft, honeyed tone, and that goddamn chuckle… it was like he was being infantilized.
You and sleeping don’t exactly get along. Like a small child refusing to take their nap. He was a grown ass man, not a toddler. Still, the way your voice curled around the words… it made something in his chest tighten, and all he could do was keep his mouth shut and nod.
Casting a final glance his way, you slowly stood up and began walking with heavy steps toward his meds. You could practically feel the weight of his gaze between your shoulder blades. A small smile teased at the corner of your mouth—he wasn't even trying to hide how much he liked watching you, face-to-face or turned away. Your fingers caught the small plastic pack and right as you extended it toward him, you yanked your hand back. Shooting him a loaded look, 'Benjamin,' you murmured, 'have you got any clue what happens if we skip these pills and you don't take them?' You pressed your lips into a pout. Once you gauged his body language and felt sure of yourself, your hand reached out to run through his hair, petting him softly like a puppy.
His fingers curled into a white-knuckled fist on his thigh as he fought to keep his temper in check. Yes, he knew what would happen if he denied taking his pills.
But he also despised being treated like a child, and by the way you spoke to him… it was like you were talking to a toddler throwing a tantrum. He hated it.
"I'm not stupid," he bit out between clenched teeth. Dex exhaled sharply through his nose, the sound almost like a scoff but not quite. He didn't answer your question right away.
Instead, he stared at your hand still resting in his hair - warm and soft against cold ward air - then slowly lifted his gaze to meet yours. His eyes were dark today. Stormy.
"Nothing happens," he said finally, voice low and even. "I take them every day like clockwork anyway."
He reached out suddenly, snatching the pill pack from your palm with quick fingers before popping two tablets into his mouth dry - no water needed.
Then came that cocky smirk again: lips quirking up on one side as if to say see? I'm good.
The pills were snatched straight out of your hand, leaving your body on the verge of freezing up completely. He knew the protocol—avoiding sudden actions around staff at all costs—but as you watched him, it was painfully clear he gave zero damns anymore. It was almost like his leash was starting to fray. You pressed your lips hard into a flat line, staring at him to keep the grin off your face. Retracing your steps to your previous spot, you lowered yourself with a quiet deliberation into the armchair across from him, giving your words permission to leave the safety of your mouth.
“Is that so?” “Care to prove to me just how not-stupid you actually are?”
That tone. You sounded almost condescending, like you didn't believe a single word that came out of his mouth. He could hear the mocking edge behind those soft, syrupy words.
“Look at you, totally spiralling over my words.”
He exhaled sharply through his nose, nostrils flaring again like an angry bull.
"You're mocking me," he said flatly. Not a question. A statement.
His eyes narrowed at you, scanning your face for any hint of amusement or sarcasm - and finding plenty of it in that damn smirk playing on your lips.
"I can think just fine." His voice was low now, defensive and tight with irritation. "I'm not some drooling lunatic off his meds."
Pushing yourself up, you started walking with slow, deliberate steps toward him. Once you reached him, settled right down at his side, turning your head to him. With a taut smile like you were handing out advice, speaking in that deep, hushed whisper of yours. “I bet you have no idea how angry everything I'm saying right now is making you.” The tip of your index finger brushed lightly tapping his cheekbone.
The second your finger tapped his cheek, Dex's breath hitched.
Not because it hurt. Not because he was scared. But because no one touched him like that before. No gentle brushes of skin, no soft contact meant to comfort or scold.
And now you were doing it with such casual dominance, whispering in that low voice like you could see right through him… and worse? You were right.
His anger surged hotter under the surface - a simmering rage at being called out so effortlessly by someone half his size who should've been intimidated by him instead of treating him like a misbehaving house pet.
He didn’t pull away from your touch though.
Dex felt almost dizzy with the flood of sensations you were stirring up inside him. Anger. Frustration. Humiliation. And yet, despite it all - there was another, more confusing feeling he kept trying to shove down with those others.
You were so close he could feel the heat of your body now, and you kept touching him, kept stroking that spot on his cheek like you knew exactly what it did to him.
He wanted to shove you away but he also couldn't help but crave more…
With your face only inches from his now, Dex could smell the scent of your skin. A soft mix of your perfume on your skin and clean linen. It was almost intoxicating, so much so that he almost didn't notice the way his body was responding to your proximity. How his heart was thumping a little faster in his chest. How his breath was ragged and shaky and hot.
He couldn't stop himself now - he needed more.
His gaze flicked between your eyes and your mouth, torn between wanting to shove you back or pull you closer - and god, he wanted you so badly.
Seeing his gaze wander off, a sly grin tugged at the corner of your mouth. Slowly settled your hand over his wrist, tracing it with gentle touches before leading his hand towards to your mouth.
"Shit," Dex muttered under his breath as your hand guiding up his hand, those feather-light touches sending electric pulses through him.
He should've pulled away. Should've reminded himself he was a patient, you were staff, and this crossed every possible line. But when you lifted his hand towards to your mouth...?
Was this what she wanted? His brain short-circuited for half a second - equal parts terrified and thrilled at the idea of it actually happening.
Dex’s breath caught in his throat. He didn’t resist. Couldn’t, even if he wanted to.
His pulse hammered against your fingers where they wrapped around him, and for a second he thought you might be the one who was insane - not him. This couldn't be happening. You were a nurse on duty; this was highly unprofessional behavior at best and grounds for termination at worst.
But then you yanked his hand toward your mouth…
Dex's fingers twitched in your grip as you pulled his hand to land on your lips.
He had no idea what the hell was happening. No one touched him like this - no one. And now here you were, dragging his calloused hand up to those soft lips of yours.
His heart pounded so hard he could hear it in his ears. Was she going to bite it? Kiss it? His mind raced with possibilities - half-terrified, half-aroused beyond reason.
You rested a slow kiss against the tips of his index and middle finger, almost as if I were testing his pulse.
Dex couldn't stop a sharp inhale when your lips touched his fingertips. His eyes snapped open to watch in disbelief as you kissed his scarred, leather-tough skin.
God, it was more intimate than it had any right to be. It was a barely-there brush of your lips against his rough hands, but he could still feel the warmth of your breath against his fingers. His pulse throbbed beneath your touch, faster than it should’ve been from this tiny gesture alone.
You slowly parted your lips, letting his fingers slide right up to your mouth. They rested between your teeth.
Dex’s entire body locked up when his fingers slipped between your teeth.
His breath hitched, a quiet gasp escaping him as he stared down at you in shock. This wasn’t happening. It couldn't be happening.
Your lips were warm around the tips of his fingers, and for some insane reason that sent heat flooding straight to his core. His stomach flipped violently - equal parts panic and something much more dangerous.
He didn't know whether to yank his hand away or press further into your mouth.
Dex couldn’t look away. Couldn’t think - could only feel: your teeth nicking the sensitive skin of his fingers, your tongue teasing between his knuckles.
His breathing was ragged now, harsh and uneven. He wanted to pull away, to remind both of you that this was inappropriate - but god, you were making it so damn hard not to just let you do whatever the hell you wanted with his hands.
You started sucking on his fingertips, like you'd stepped into a five-star restaurant where you were instructed to savor instead of devour—never once breaking eye contact.
Dex's entire body tensed as you sucked on his fingers, the wet heat of your mouth sending a jolt straight down his spine. He could feel every tiny movement - how your tongue swirled around the pads of his fingers, how carefully you avoided biting too hard.
And worst (or best?) part? You were staring right into him while doing it. Those eyes locked onto his like this was some kind of test - seeing if he'd break first.
His face burned with something between shame and raw need.
Your tongue slid over his fingertips as you sucked, slowly teasing along his knuckles and sending tingles through his fingers. Dex tried to keep his breathing even. Tried to look as unaffected as possible, even with his face burning and his heart pounding.
But he was getting worked up just from your ministrations on his hands. He wanted - needed - more. He was almost tempted to reach out with his other hand and run it through your hair just to feel that silky softness, to see how you'd react…
Dex's fingers twitched against your lips, his breath coming faster now.
"You're gonna get us both kicked out," he muttered, voice low and rough. It was supposed to sound like a warning - but it came out more like an invitation.
His free hand lifted slowly, hesitantly reaching toward your hair. He wanted so badly to touch those soft strands... but he paused just before making contact
You opened and closed your eyes in a slow, affirming nod. Dex exhaled shakily as you nodded, giving him silent permission.
In one swift motion, his other hand lifted and tangled into your hair. His fingers threaded through the soft strands - just like he'd imagined - gripping gently but firmly at the roots.
His thumb brushed against your temple before sliding back to cradle the side of your head.
Dex's breathing turned ragged, his grip tightening in your hair as he pulled you closer without thinking.
He caught you by the waist, lifting you up with rough ease as though you were nothing at all, and planted you right in his lap. "Fuck this," he growled low in his throat before crashing his lips onto yours.
There was no finesse, no hesitation - just pure hunger unleashed after months of being locked away. His kiss was messy, desperate, all teeth and heat and the faint metallic taste of blood where one of them bit too hard by accident. It's like he's just doing whatever comes naturally to him, while acting like he has no idea what he's doing at all.
Even though his kiss left you stunned for a second, you couldn't help but let out a soft sigh and a whimper right against his mouth at his gentle yet commanding presence.
Dex deepened the kiss, his lips moving hungrily against yours as he tasted that sweet whimper you let out. His hands roamed wildly now - one still tangled in your hair while the other slid down to grip your waist possessively.
You wrapped your hands around his nape. One of your hands brushed through the hair at the back of his neck, while your other hand tightened its grip, pinching and releasing the skin right against his neck.
Dex groaned sharply when your fingers pinched the sensitive skin at his neck, a low sound vibrating from his chest into the kiss.
“Fuck,” he muttered against your lips before diving back in, this time with even more urgency. His hands slid down to grip your hips hard - not enough to hurt, but enough that you'd definitely feel it tomorrow.
He rocked forward instinctively, pressing closer until there was no space left between you two.
The moment you felt the hard, unyielding length of his cock beneath the layers of fabric—already rock-hard, probably leaking by now—pressed against your pussy that had only just begun to throb, swell, and grow slick, your breath caught in your throat.
"Oh my god." Dex panted, breaking the kiss just enough to speak but staying close - so close his lips brushed yours with every word.
His hips twitched forward on instinct, grinding that hard-on against you through both your clothes. He was aching, painfully aware of how wet you probably were already from this stupidly hot moment.
"Do we... stop?" he asked hoarsely - though the way he kept pressing into you said everything about what part of him didn't want to stop.
You whispered a breathless 'no' to him. Dex wasted zero time after your silent confirmation.
His mouth crashed back onto yours, hungrier this time - all tongue and teeth and sloppy kisses as his hands roamed greedily over your body. One slid under your scrubs to feel bare skin while the other stayed gripping at fabric like he might tear it off any second now.
"Fuck" he groaned between kisses when you ground against him. Dex broke the kiss, his breathing heavy and ragged as he looked down at you.
His gaze traced the curves of your breasts, and letting out a quiet sigh, he started trailing deliberate, lethal-smooth kisses down your neck and collarbones—meanwhile, flushed and panting, you were still rubbing yourself against him. His eyes darkened with need and without another thought, he dove in.
His hands fumbled with the buttons of your scrubs, his fingers shaking slightly from how badly he wanted this. The second they were undone, he shoved the fabric aside and lowered his mouth to one bare breast.
First he kissed the curve, then slowly brought his lips closer to your nipple. He sucked a mouth immediately - warm tongue swirling around it before gently biting down. You couldn't stop the moans escaping your lips. You felt completely trapped in his arms, entirely at his mercy—and as suffocating as it felt, it was equally exhilarating.
Hearing those noises coming from you drove Dex feral - he was drunk on the sound of those moans. You were so soft for him.
He let out a low, possessive growl as his mouth continued to explore your breasts- sucking and biting and leaving marks that you'd be hiding under your scrubs for days. Every little sound he got from you just made him more desperate to claim, possess, you.
Dex's breath came in sharp, uneven gasps as you ground against him. His hands flew to your hips, gripping hard like he needed an anchor or he'd lose his mind completely.
He panted so loudly, voice wrecked already. "You're gonna make me cum in my pants like a teenager."
He rolled his hips up instinctively - chasing friction through the layers of fabric between you two.
You spoke, your words stumbling over one another. “Don’t act like that isn’t exactly what you want right now.”
Dex laughed breathlessly, a rough and honest sound. "Yeah," he admitted shamelessly.
"God yeah, that's exactly what I want." His fingers dug into your hips harder now as his control frayed completely.
He kissed you again - messy, open-mouthed - while rutting up against you like an animal. "Can't help it," Dex growled between kisses, his voice thick with arousal. His hands slid down to squeeze your hips, pulling you even tighter against him as he ground up into that perfect friction.
"You feel too good-" Both of you were so wet down there that the dampness was soaking straight through your clothes, pressing and mixing together.
"Fuck, I can feel how wet you are," Dex muttered against your neck between frantic kisses.
His hips moved in desperate little circles now, grinding the soaked fabric of his sweatpants against yours. The friction was electric - maddening - and he knew neither of you would last long like this.
"I swear to god if we don't stop soon..." He trailed off with a groan.
"Yeah," he grunted back, fingers digging hard into your skin.
"If I don't get to taste you soon, I'm gonna lose my mind."
His voice was strained and desperate, almost pained - like holding back was physically hurting him.
"Please," he panted, hips still jerking up against you. "Please. Just lemme taste you. I need you."
Trying to hold himself back was no longer a luxury he could afford.
In one fluid motion, he flipped you onto your back and immediately yanked down whatever fabric separated him from his prize. He left neither of you much choice—your back met the mattress while his knees found the floor before you.
His first taste was slow - a deliberate lick and kiss up your slit to savor the flavor of you before diving in completely.
Then he ate like a starving man, tongue lapping hungrily. The wet sounds of his mouth against your cunt had long since turned your brain to mush. Dex groaned against you, his hips thrusting up against nothing as his breath hitched.
"Ffffffuck," he panted, still teasing you with his tongue in between words. "I'm gonna... I'm-"
His mouth moved back to your entrance for a moment - just long enough to make you arch up against him -He was panting hard now, desperate and aching.
"Oh, uh.. Nurse. I think I'm gonna cum. Right in my pants, just like that. Can I do that? Please?”
Dex’s whole body tensed as the orgasm ripped through him, his mouth still working against you desperately even as pleasure wrecked his system.
He came hard in his pants with a muffled groan against your skin, hips jerking helplessly while waves of ecstasy crashed over him.
But he didn’t stop - not even for a second - just kept licking and sucking like an addict chasing another high. Dex could feel you tensing beneath his tongue-the telltale signs that you were close.
Sucking your clit between his lips while cupping your breasts. His own release was still pulsing through him, making every movement sloppier but no less effective. You angled your fingers in his hair and pulled sharply, drawing a muffled sound from him as he buried himself against you.
The sharp tug in his hair sent a jolt through Dex’s already overstimulated body. He moaned into you, the vibration of it reverberating against your most sensitive skin. His hips twitched again from aftershocks - still coming down from his high but determined to push you over that edge too. Driven by the way you tugged his hair, he sucked harder on your clit, swirling his tongue in tight circles.
"Come for me," he mumbled against you between kisses and licks - voice wrecked from coming himself moments ago but still so eager to make you fall apart. "I need to feel you come. You're so close, aren't you? I can taste it..."
"Please," he begged, his breaths ragged and desperate. "Please, come for me. Please."
Your whimpers had escalated into low, breathless cries. Dex's lips curled into a smirk against your skin as those breathless cries hit his ears.
He loved that sound- loved it. The way you were falling apart because of him, only him, no one else could make you like this right now.
"Yeah," he murmured before sealing his mouth over your clit again.
Dex felt it the second your body tensed - that perfect, shuddering moment right before climax. His tongue didn’t stop, pushing through it with every flick and curl. Dex kept his mouth on you through every pulse of your orgasm, swallowing every sound and taste like a man starved. Like a man starving for something he desperately needs. When the last tremors finally faded, he pressed one gentle kiss to your inner thigh before slowly pulling back - lips glistening.
He looked wrecked: hair messy from being tugged, cheeks flushed, sweatpants still damp with his cum. But satisfied as hell. Your chest rose and fell rapidly with your fast, shallow breaths. Eyes closed, you asked with a smirk: “How do you plan on explaining your pants to the staff?”
Dex glanced down at the obvious dampness in his sweatpants, then back up at you with a lazy, smug grin.
"Tell'em I had an accident," he deadpanned - not even slightly embarrassed. If anything, he looked proud of himself.
“Oh, really? What kind of accident? Like you had a wet dream or something?” You let out a dry, disbelieving laugh.
Dex smirked, stretching his arms behind his head like he hadn’t just been caught red-handed.
"Yeah, a really good wet dream," he said with zero shame. "About my nurse."
He winked at you before adding: "Totally believable story. Who'd doubt it?"
