you’re bent low over the billiard table, elbows locked, fingers curled around the cue stick - every muscle taut with focus. dex stands so close behind you as he adjusts your stance. one hand rests on your hip to turn you slightly; the other guides yours around the stick. the silence is heavy except for dex's slow breathing behind you.
“you gotta bend low,” he murmurs, voice low and breathless. “really lean into it.” his big frame folds over yours like a shadow. his chest hovering just above your back, every inch of him radiating warmth through his dress shirt and tailored pants that hug his strong thighs.
dex leans down until one arm braces beside yours on the table while his other hand glides slowly from hipbone up along spine - feather-light. teasingly close but not touching where you want most. his hips tilt forward.
you’re bent over completely now, forearms flat against the green felt, back arched slightly from leaning so low. your hair spills forward, hiding your flushed face. every muscle in your body is tense.
the silence stretches, thick and charged. you don’t move. can’t move - frozen in the curve of your posture, every nerve ending alight where his body meets yours. the pressure from his bulge is constant. his chest rises against your back.
one hand lifts slightly before sliding down your side again: fingertips trailing along the dip of your waist through soft, silky fabric. testing how you react without words. when they reach lower, just above hipbone, a single thumb brushes over it once.
you feel as soft, warm lips press against the side of your neck - right where your skin is most sensitive and you shiver. it’s subtle but he feels it: the tiny tremor running through you from head to toe.
"I noticed the way he was looking at you"
his voice had dropped an octave. the room feels like it’s shrinking, the air thick with something unspoken - something heavy and electric that made your skin prickle. you stiffen instantly - not because you did anything wrong, but because of what those words imply. your face burns red all over.
dex doesn’t pull away after the kiss. he lingers, lips still pressed to your neck like he’s memorizing the taste of your skin. you can feel how tense he is as his jaw flexes. his gaze locks onto the man across the billiard table, some guy in a leather jacket, casually leaning by the bar with a drink, who’d been glancing your way earlier.
"maybe I should show him… exactly who you belong to."
his arm tightens around your waist again, pulling you back harder against his chest. the room is quiet, the background noise fading into a dull hum as dex remains locked in that intense stare with the man. his large frame looms over you completely. every breath he takes expands his chest visibly - syncing with your own nervous breathing beside him.
suddenly, the cue stick moves smoothly through your hands as dex guides you - his large fingers curling around yours, adjusting your grip on the shaft. he aligns the tip of the cue with the eight ball sitting perfectly in position at the corner pocket. his chest presses lightly against your back again, just enough to steady you both while he positions it for a clean shot.
you take a small inhale and let him take control. the ball rolls forward, spinning fast as it drops cleanly into the final pocket.
"good job, baby" dex turns you around softly to face him. his eyes are dark. theres a smug, dangerous smile curling at the corners of his mouth. your body tenses instinctively.
"we should use that aim of yours on something more... important." dex says as he glares at the man behind you. "think you can make another thing disappear just as easy?"
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