dexter.⋆

i'm picturing he's your neighbor. you both interact with each other in passing, but it's an obsessive crush that forms when driver's breath stutters when you smile at him. he never does that. he's typically composed. at first, the absurd thought of being poisoned flashes in his mind (he isn't one to get soft), then he realizes he's leaking in his jeans. he's hard. he's rock fucking solid, and you only looked at him. that's when it's part of his routine.

his car is his favorite place now. well—it's always been his favorite place, but now it's even better. sometimes he lingers there, across the parking tower with a perfect view of the elevator. he lingers, memorizing your schedule, knowing if you worked nights or not. when you did, he'd feel his pulse beneath his skin, rabbiting when his gloved hand dips beneath his waistband . his belt was long forgotten, unbuckled in haste to get his aching dick out upon first glance of you rounding the corner.

he tries to control himself. tries to still the ache in his bones, even as his cock leaks against the sliver of exposed stomach. he's already stroking himself, even if you haven't done anything notable. you're just waiting by the elevator, just pressing the button. mundane things. driver desperately wishes he could stand by you. hold your things, help you to your apartment. dote over you like normal couples do. though, the both of you aren't a couple, and he's sure you don't even know his name. the thought of being there someday makes his hips buck up into his fist.

sometimes he slips into your apartment. when you've picked locks your entire life, it becomes second nature.

his favorite room of all time is your bedroom, for obvious reasons. you sleep there. you spend your most vulnerable times there. he wishes you'd be a little more careless and leave your front door unlocked—he's proud that you aren't, really—so he could watch you sleep. to see you when you're bundled up and peaceful.

he is the perfect owner. incredible patience with a silent yet demanding presence. he also devotes his entire being and soul to you, ensuring his little puppy is well taken care of.

depending on if you're bad or not, there's a crate by your bedside. if you've been misbehaving, bad dogs sleep in the crate. blanketed if you don't deserve his attention. seeing him, spending time with him, those are all privileges. however, he can be easily swayed if you flash your pretty eyes at him… woof.

the crate is somewhat comfortable. lined with blankets, pillows, plushies if you've got your own collection. he hopes you rarely have to use it, but bad behavior is inevitable. it's part of the training process. you can't seem to grasp that you aren't an outside dog. despite how much he reassures you it's okay, he's ushering you towards the crate by the time the sun goes down. despite the intentions of the crate being a punishment, he still keeps a portion of the blanket pulled back. far enough to see him atop your shared bed. he isn't able to help the fact that he misses his sweet little puppy, even if they've been bad.

BIG on training. definitely works on clicker training you, whether it be snaps or whistles, he prefers silent commands over words. he does speak whenever you've crossed a line, or you're being a bad dog. that's when you get his soft yet stern voice.. woof. before he realizes he's into it, he trains you subconsciously. snaps when he wants your attention, gestures for you to come closer, gives you scritches when you listen to him... each bout of obedience thrills him to no end.

it starts small; snaps to get your attention when you aren't focusing, gestures that evolve into incremented clicks when he requests your presence. he naturally doesn't prefer to use many words—talking is exhausting when he's already unsure of how to navigate social spaces—so gesturing and whistling is right up his alley. then he notices that you're responding far too well to such a thing. you perk up, attentive as ever, when he does something as simple as cracking open a can. that's when he realizes he's essentially trained you, and he's insatiable with it. it advances into ruffling your hair (little scritches behind your ears and at the nape of your neck), praising you with completing tasks, he's training you and you don't seem to realize it. the obliviousness is what gets him so fucking hard.

bringing up parallel play once again… he prefers if you curl up next to him while he's fixing something. just you in your pretty collar resting beside his boot while he keeps his hands busy.

he's got something on the table, his hands busy with fixing. always fixing. always this restless energy he's unable to dispel. your presence is what calms him. you're wearing your collar today—you picked it out along with the silver tag, your name engraved (something he got a thrill in when the two of you went to petco)—clad in nothing else. the warmth of your skin is something he is very aware of, curled up comfortably against the denim of his jeans. resting at his feet like a loyal puppy. occasionally, he'll offer scritches, a small smile gracing his face at how obedient and quiet you are.

i do think he enjoys testing you and/or pushing you with mixed signals. he loves seeing your confused expression when he encourages you to grind on his boot, then scolds you for getting the leather wet.

he's got you on your knees, thighs bracketing his pant leg as you grind up against his boot. his expression is unreadable as ever, one hand busy with carding through your hair. he'll offer a click, petting you as a reward, then scolding you when things get messy. he isn't able to help it. your confused expression, the subtle tilt of your head with your trusting eyes, it gets him far too hard to compose himself. he allows you to use his boot to indulge in yourself, prying you away when you get too close with a sharp whistle (something you've established as a warning). he knows he's being unfair, knows that he's sending mixed signals. it's okay, though. he knows you're nothing but a dumb puppy. knows that you're still learning.

huge on praise and rewards… he's generally a very giving owner, but he does have the capacity to be stern. i think if he's trying to get you to try something, he isn't past the thought of forcefeeding you and holding your maw shut. always praises you afterwards… deffo talks you through things…