Dex was unfamiliar with the concept of physical touch and romance until he begins dating a seamstress that has rendered him desperately hungry for more, and he begins to understand why most people found dating enjoyable.
CW: SMUT, Fluff, implied that he's older, readers features are never stated, no use of Y/N, inexperienced Dex but it's not stated, he's a freak. HE'S FILTHYYYY!!!!
Word Count: 7k
AN: I don't have a dad so that probably explains why I like Dex so much... Dex having no play is cannon here.
To Dex, the physical topography of another human being had always been a calculus of vulnerability. His mind was a machine, capable of mapping the dimensions of an enclosed space within milliseconds and identifying the precise trajectory required to sever an artery. He understood the mechanics of the anatomy; he knew exactly how much pressure it took to snap a collarbone or drop a grown man to his knees. But touch and affection? Affection was a foreign, deeply distressing dialect. It was a sensory input that rendered his internal programming entirely mute. He knew every ligament in the body, where to assault to cause torment but God forbid he uses his hands for softness.
There was a profound, quiet irony in a man of his age and lethal competence being so utterly paralyzed by the simple proximity of soft skin. Hell, he almost pitied himself for it. For decades, the concept of a romantic relationship hadn’t been relegated in his mind. It had been buried beneath layers of institutional survival, psychological trauma, and the crushing weight of an existence spent entirely on the defensive. Dex was not a lover and he had never been, affection and care was unnatural to him.
He could still recall the sharp, sterile scent of the office belonging to his first therapist, the singular human anchor he had at the fragile age of sixteen. He had cared for her, though his developing mind lacked the emotional framework to define what care actually meant. To Dex, care was synonymous with structure. It was the methodical way she re-aligned his straying thoughts, the unnatural patience she extended far beyond the boundaries of her hourly compensation. That was the closest Dex ever got to care. And when death claimed her, his internal architecture had shattered into something feral and defensive. Standing beside her hospital bed, looking down at her failing form, he had chosen to weaponize his grief, hissing that he hated her. He didn’t hate her for who she was, but for the betrayal of leaving him entirely alone in a world without parameters. After that care became just another word without meaning to him.
Then came Julie.
Julie had been an exercise in aesthetic symmetry. She was safe, correct, and perfectly aligned with the script he desperately tried to perform. Dex had cared for her in the same detached, appreciative manner you might have for a beautiful painting in a museum. Admired from a calculated, safe distance, entirely devoid of genuine visceral heat or want. He never wanted Julie, despite how it might have looked, Dex wanted to be her. How easily life came to her was just so fascinating to a man like him. He remembered the exact moment she had offered him a farewell hug at the Suicide Hotline Center, just before he transitioned into the stark world of the Bureau.
The physical contact had been an absolute shock to his nervous system. And he remembers it even now years later. First came the ice, a sudden, freezing sensation that trickled down his spine the precise millisecond her palms pressed against his biceps, his body mistaking the gesture for an ambush. His muscles had coiled instantly like overwound springs, his vertebrae stiffening in a violent protest against the proximity. But then, right before he could pull away, the ice had thawed into an invasive, confusing warmth. Before his mind could categorize or fixate on the sensation, she had already retreated, leaving him standing in the corridor, thoroughly deregulated by a three-second interaction.
That brief, fleeting embrace had been the absolute zenith of his experience with physical intimacy. Dex didn't do hugs, or anything else for that matter… His subsequent, half-hearted attempts at dating in his early twenties had been a disastrous blur, locked away like radioactive material in the darker corridors of his subconscious. The entire experience had felt extremely uncomfortable, unfulfilling, and complicated in ways that insulted his intelligence.
The sheer volume of unwritten variables was maddening. He had to speak enough to demonstrate engagement, but not so much to appear self-absorbed. Connection required vulnerability, but a fraction too much was classified as forward or desperate. He couldn't request another date too quickly or too frequently without crossing into the territory of predatory. Touch was a minefield; it was deemed acceptable only if initiated by the woman, yet society dictated that a man should assert dominance and assume leadership. Hold her hand, the script said, but don't apply too much pressure to suggest control. Open the door for her, but don't infantilize her or imply incompetence.
By his third official date, Dex had quietly withdrawn from the field entirely. The sheer unpredictability of the social ritual was entirely too volatile for his psychology to parse. He vividly recalled sitting across a woman in a dimly lit restaurant, completely incapable of processing a single syllable falling from her lips because his entire focus had been hijacked by a fork. Her elbow had accidentally nudged the cutlery, leaving it misaligned by less than half an inch from the knife. The asymmetry had screamed in his mind like a siren, drowning out her voice, preventing him from formulating the carefully curated, charming responses necessary to foster romantic banter. He had stared at the silver, suffocated by the lack of order, and realized he was entirely unfit for the performance.
So, he surrendered the idea. He locked his focus onto the FBI, dedicating his life to a rigid, bureaucratic institution that allowed him to believe he was doing good for society while keeping his demons safely behind bars. Years had dissolved into the background of that singular pursuit, and the concept of dating became an obsolete idea of a past life.
Even more now that his world had been violently upended; he had broken out of the prisons meant to contain him, shed the skin of a government puppet, and stripped away the illusions of the system. He was older now, his features hardened by violence, but he was entirely free from the invisible snares that had once dictated his value. Standing in his late thirties, Dex felt a strange sense of selfhood that had completely eluded him in his twenties.
His daily routine remained his mandatory sanctuary, waking up exactly the same hour, executing a flawless military tuck on his bedsheets, consuming a balanced breakfast before physical regimen, and then work. But the internal shift was tectonic. He no longer walked through the streets of New York like a fraudulent actor trying to mimic human behavior and integrate himself into civilization. He knew the truth now: there was no grand order to life. There was only the winding, bloody path he had been carved out to walk. He no longer craved the external validation of a badge or a supervisor’s praise to consider himself a whole entity. He was fucking Bullseye.
And the concept of a "North Star", the desperate need for a perfect, external moral anchor to keep him sane, had been forcibly buried deep within a vault next to his most violent, unpacked trauma. Though sometimes, in the quiet hours of the night, a phantom tension would ripple through his chest, an instinctual tug toward the comfort of connection, but he would quickly dismiss it as mere human biology. He didn't need a North Star. His life was already perfectly illuminated by his own design. Or so he continuously told himself.
Until he walked into your boutique.
The shop was situated a short distance down the asphalt stretch of Hell’s Kitchen, a stark, hyper-feminine building in an otherwise gritty neighborhood. The interior was an absolute assault of pastel pinks, a visual sensory overload that normally would have triggered his defense mechanisms, but the hand-painted sign outside promised custom tailoring services. And Dex needed his belongings fixed the moment he noticed imperfections.
He carried two specific items across the threshold that afternoon. His utilitarian jacket that had suffered a tear against a rusty fire escape during the previous night's "hero work," and a pair of heavy tactical gloves that needed the seams to be adjusted for a better grip.
You'd been seated behind the polished wooden counter, a needle held between your hand, your hair slightly disheveled as you worked. When you looked up and saw the tall, broad-shouldered man standing in your doorway, your face had broken into a smile so massive, so genuinely warm, that Dex had felt an involuntary, almost evolutionary impulse to mimic the expression. He stood perfectly rigid as your small, incredibly nimble hands took the damaged fabric from his grip, your fingers tracing the torn nylon of the jacket with a professional, practiced ease.
When you looked up and informed him that the repairs would only take sixty minutes, his sharp brows had risen in mild intrigue at your efficiency.
"I work fast," you had offered, your voice bright and entirely unbothered by his silent, imposing intensity.
Dex returned to the shop precisely the sixty-minute mark, not a second early, not a second late. You were already waiting for him at the counter, the jacket neatly pressed and the jagged tear now entirely imperceptible, executed with a level of craftsmanship that deeply satisfied his need for perfection. Then he slid his large hands into the resized tactical gloves, flexing his fingers to test the tension of the thread.
Whether you had recognized the subtle Bullseye emblem stamped into the leather, you made no verbal indication. Instead, you merely bit your lower lip, your gaze tracking the movement of his hands before you boldly, without an ounce of hesitation, reached out and gripped his gloved hand. Your fingers guide his, pointing down to the specific cross-stitch where you had loosened the seams to accommodate his knuckles.
The ice returned instantly. It danced down the length of his spine, a freezing jolt that made his chest tighten. But as your warm skin remained pressed against the heavy material of his glove, the sensation mutated into something remarkably pleasant. Dex let out an involuntary exhale from your touch as your index finger trailed a slow, deliberate line down the length of his hand. Was this flirting? No, this was her job….
"If you need it bigger I can make that possible," you offered softly, your eyes lifting to lock onto his with a quiet, grounded confidence. And Dex paused, taking in the intimacy of your closeness. Okay…. Yeah, this was flirting. He deduced at its baseline before he found himself engaging.
Dex couldn't understand the sequence of events that followed, birthed from that moment alone. His memory, usually so linear and mathematical, became a blur of transitions. And normally the haze would eat away at him till he lost his mind, if it weren't for the fact that the stages that followed were extremely enjoyable. All he knew was that the rigid wall of his isolation had suddenly breached, and he was taking you on a first date. Then a second. A third. A fourth. The unwritten variables that had paralyzed him in his youth seemed to dissolve in your presence; you didn't demand a script, and your effortless need to keep talking filled the awkward silences he usually created. Dex was thankful for it. He was thankful for all of you.
By the time the fifth date happened, you were both standing inside the threshold of your private home. And Dex was fucking ecstatic. The realizations hit him in waves during his nightly routines: life was simply greater, sharper, and infinitely better with your existence woven into it. Within the calculated grid of his mind, he had rapidly come to view you as an essential, non-negotiable component of his daily structure. A connection he needed desperately to maintain that he was fully prepared to execute any measure necessary to ensure you stayed. You were kind, sweet, and giving in a way that defied his understanding of human nature. How were you so willing to offer the world everything you had without demanding anything in return?
Because he couldn't comprehend it, he studied you. He watched you with a hyper-attentive, microscopic focus that would have terrified a normal civilian, tracking the micro-expressions of your face, the cadence of your breaths, and the specific pitch of your laughter. And you let him. To you, that intense, unblinking gaze didn't feel like surveillance; it made you feel entirely seen and warm.
Dex had learned you. He played every single card in his hand with absolute precision to ensure he kept your favor, but you made the act remarkably easy. He found himself wanting to give the world to you, a new directive that lingered constantly. While on missions, he's doing this to make the city better for you. He had to come home safe because you'd be so devastated if anything happened to him. You needed him in your life so he had to make sure no wounds took over his body. These thoughts progressed over time, though they were already brewing the minute he stepped out of your boutique. Dex brought you a perfectly curated bouquet of flowers on your very first date, quickly logging the fact that you flourished when things were done for you. From that moment on, his chivalry became non-negotiable. He opened doors before your hand could even approach the handle; he pulled out chairs to the exact angle required for your comfort; he even leaned across the console of his vehicle to buckle your seatbelt for you, his large frame momentarily shielding you from the world. A thought that appears constantly in his mind at night.
And now, those correctly executed actions had granted him entry into your sanctuary.
Walking through the door of your brownstone, his analytical eyes immediately deduced that you and your work were a singular entity. The space was less a traditional home and more an active studio. A heavy, vintage treadle sewing machine sat prominently in the center of the room, positioned directly in front of the television, while two antique, velvet-upholstered couches framed it on either side. Dex made a silent, permanent mental note of that specific layout: the tool of your labor received absolute priority over comfort.
As he looked around Dex noticed your affinity for older things immediately, your eyes lingering on aged, well-maintained pieces of history. A part of him wondered if that was why you liked him so much and despite himself, the thought amused him. His gaze drifted to the expansive dining room, noting how every single high-backed chair had been pushed flush against the perimeter of the walls, completely away from the central table to maximize workspace. A deep, quiet part of his psychology deeply admired the dedication. He understood the obsession with craft, the way you spoke about fabrics and patterns with radiant love. He was identical to you in that regard, though he remained hyper-vigilant about never revealing the bloodier details of his own craft to you.
Dex paced silently behind you, his broad shoulders squared as his eyes continuously darted around the rooms, absorbing the atmosphere of your home while you led him toward the kitchen by the hand. His frame was tense, his muscles vibrating with a low-grade current of electricity. He still wasn't accustomed to the physical touching. He liked it, he liked it with a terrifying intensity that scared him, but his brain lacked the programming required to properly receive it.
And bless your heart, you were so unbelievably touchy.
You were a creature of constant physical contact. There was always a soft arm looping around his rigid bicep, a gentle palm resting against his. A constant, natural inclination to latch onto his massive frame and cling to him as if he were the only solid object in a moving world. He reciprocated in the only ways he knew how, squeezing your hand back with a carefully measured amount of pressure, standing perfectly still to accept your weight. But Dex still hadn't learned how to articulate or manifest his own physical desires. He didn't know how to be the one to close the distance. He didn't know how to reach out his large, scarred hands, wrap them around your waist, and pull you against his chest without an explicit invitation. The script hadn't given him those lines yet.
So instead, he simply allowed himself to be a passive monument of muscle and bone, letting you pull him toward the kitchen island for wine and cheese after your date. The night got more enjoyable, but then again, every moment was enjoyable with you. But this is even more so. You trusted him enough to let him into your space, liked him so much that you paid attention whenever his glass was empty.
"I have a secret," you admitted suddenly, your face flushing a deep, radiant pink after you drained the remainder of your second glass.
Dex raised a single, sharp brow, holding his own glass perfectly steady as he waited for the disclosure. He ignored the sudden, rhythmic thumping of his own blood pumping violently in his ears. He couldn't quite determine if the sudden spike in his heart rate was the result of the alcohol or a sudden surge of anxiety. Given his high tolerance, it was likely the latter.
"I hate wine," you hiccuped, a small, breathless sound. You didn't feel that inebriated but Dex had a skill for making you feel drunk.
Dex’s cold blue eyes widened slightly in genuine surprise. Without a word, his large hand reached out and gently but firmly took the crystal glass directly from your fingers, a low, rumbling chuckle vibrating in his chest as the absurdity of the situation caused a bright laugh to break from your lips.
"Why didn't you say anything," he asked, his gravelly voice dropping an octave as he placed the glass down on the exact center of a stone coaster.
"Because it was a nice gift and also because I wanted to be with you longer," you reasoned smoothly.
You stepped away from the counter, your short frame moving into his immediate personal space. Slipping effortlessly between his extended legs as he sat perched on the high barstool, your body completely filling the void between his knees. Before he could process the proximity, your arms looped entirely around his broad shoulders, your hands resting against the nape of his neck.
Dex sat up just a fraction straighter, his entire spine locking into a protective line. A hesitant, unpracticed hand rose from his side, his large palm resting against the fabric of your dress to support your lower back, his fingers trembling slightly against your skin.
"I like having you around..." you admitted softly, your voice heavily laced with an intoxicated, sleepy haze as you looked up at him.
"I like being around," Dex nodded, his gaze boring into yours with an unblinking, absolute intensity.
It was the most fundamental truth his mouth had ever uttered. He liked being around you so much that the mere concept of physical separation had become an agonizing friction in his daily life. There were moments during his long, solitary hours on a rooftop or following a lethal assignment where the craving to see you grew so violent, so overwhelming, that he had seriously contemplated abandoning his operation just to stand outside your window. But the rational, highly defensive side of his mind, the piece of him that vividly remembered the trembling panic in Julie's face, always managed to reassert control. He wouldn't risk breaking what you two had.
"Will you be around forever?" you asked, your voice dropping into a soft, vulnerable register that sounded almost like a plea.
Dex felt a sudden, blinding flash behind his eyes, a sensation so sharp and radiant it felt as though stars had detonated within his skull. A terrifying wave of duty and existential purpose crashed through his mind, rewriting his internal directives in an instant. This was his calling. This was his permanent assignment.
"I'll be here forever," he nodded, his voice carrying the heavy, unyielding finality of a death warrant.
He barely had a single microsecond to process the violent rush of devotion flooding his veins before you leaned in, and your soft lips met his.
Dex froze.
He froze in a way he had never experienced in the heat of lethal gunfire. He hesitated with a sudden, paralyzing vulnerability that his mind was completely unequipped to handle. Bullseye did not hesitate; Bullseye was a creature of pure, instantaneous reaction. But Dex, Dex was entirely lost here in the quiet of your kitchen, his lips pressed flat against yours, his breath catching in the back of his throat as the delicate warmth of your mouth completely shattered his being.
His mind scrambled for data, for a past memory or a set of instructions to tell him what to do with his hands, how to move with you, how to breathe. The sheer sensation of your mouth against his was too vast, too unaligned with any grid he had ever mapped. He wanted to deepen the pressure, wanted to sink his fingers into your hips and drag you so close that the space between you ceased to exist, but the terrifying lack of instructions kept his body entirely locked in stone. He was a starving man paralyzed by the sudden appearance of a feast, terrified that a single incorrect movement would cause the illusion to vanish.
It was only a brief, agonizing second of contact. It was over far too quickly for his liking before you were gently pulling back, your eyelashes fluttering against your cheeks.
"You never got much love huh?" you hummed out, your voice dipping into a sad, incredibly tender melody.
Your small hands didn't retreat; instead, they began to preen over his tense shoulders, your fingers sliding upward until your nails began to slowly, methodically comb through the short hairs at the base of his scalp.
An involuntary, deeply guttural groan tore itself from the very bottom of Dex’s throat, the sound surprising even himself. His eyes rolled back, his lids fluttering shut as a wave of intense pleasure rippled through his nervous system. He liked that. He liked that with a feral, addictive desperation. Whatever you were doing with your hands, it was dismantling the static in his brain.
"No," he admitted, his voice a broken, raspy whisper in the quiet room, his head naturally sinking into the guiding pressure of your palms as you continued to adore him.
Your lips moved forward again, finding the hard, unyielding line of his cheekbone. You pressed a soft, lingering kiss directly over the jagged scar near his cheek, the exact spot you always claimed when you were saying goodbye, and Dex felt his entire body shudder under the impact. Then, your kisses migrated downward, tracing the sharp angle of his jaw before your mouth found the sensitive, hot skin of his neck.
Dex’s hands lost their hesitation, his fingers curling tightly into the fabric of your dress as he decided, with absolute certainty, that he liked this even more.
"Don't worry. I'll fix it," you murmured against his skin, your breath hot and reassuring even in your heavily tipsy state.
“Pretty girl like you gonna fix a man like me,” Dex mused out, exhaling in amusement as he welcomed your kisses by granting you more of his neck. You hummed in delight and he noted that was the correct response.
“I'd do everything for you, Dex,” you admitted into his neck and that seemed to do it. Every rigid order he told himself to act like a gentleman broke as he pulled you into his chest, turning his face as if begging for you to grant him another kiss.
And you do.
This time he reciprocated the contact eagerly, fuck it, thoughts can be damned, Dex let his body lead now. His kisses were harsh and demanding, desperate in its undercurrent but you enjoyed it. You tasted faintly like wine and something minty and he finds himself deepening the kiss. His large calloused hand found the thin straps of your bias-cut dress, hastily pushing it down the slope of your shoulder before he froze. He was being too forward, too much, too–
Before he could spiral, you whined into his mouth at the lack of movement. A harmonious plea that he's never had the privilege of hearing before. And Dex's eyes fluttered, that sound went straight to his straining cock evoking a groan against your skin. Emboldened hands pushing the dress down only to pull back momentarily, breaking the kiss despite not wanting to. He'd rather shoot himself than stop kissing you, but he needed to know that what he was doing was okay. And by the blissful state of your eyes, you were more than okay with this, with him. And so he allowed his gaze to wander, darting down to the exposed skin of your soft breast.
His gaze locked onto your hardened nipple before his hand slowly moved, not giving himself time to overthink. His thumb grazed the sensitive peak in experimentation, irises watching as your chest stuttered, his gaze darting up to meet yours in calculation on how to proceed. You were waiting for him, letting him take the lead and explore, and God did he want to map out every shape of you. He wanted to know what made you arch and squirm, what made you sing his name in praise. But Dex was a man rendered stupid in the unfamiliar vastness of your body, so hands stayed motionless as they had done nothing but take and punish all his life. He'd do it slow, he decided, after all, his hands were not meant for this. For worship and caress.
But his mouth would be.
Not breaking eye contact with you, his lips found home on your skin, latching onto your nipple. Humming as you arched your back, your pliant body gravitating into him. You liked that, he learned, so he did it harder. Teeth grazing the sensitive peak before sucking it into his mouth hard.
His free hand wanders to your other breast, thumb circling the clothed nipple there while he devotes himself to the first with his tongue. It’s messy, uncoordinated, Dex isn’t a gentle lover, he learned as the need progresses. His brave hand slips under your dress, pushing fabric up further to expose more of your body as his kisses migrated down your sternum.
“D-Dex.”
The breathy sound made him freeze and he recoiled immediately as if burned. He waits for the storm only for you to eagerly pat him on his shoulder, signaling you wanted him up.
“Room, please…. I-i don't want it here…” you say almost shy and he obeys immediately, standing up and holding you dear.
“Yeah? Sweet girl,” the term endearment escaping his lips catches him by surprise just as much as him kissing your forehead does. But he doesn't dwell on it long as he grabs hold of your hand and leads you upstairs where he already knows where your room is.
The silence of the space was only intensified once you both entered your bedroom. Dex pauses, taking a moment to appreciate the image of you standing there, waiting with earnest eyes and swollen lips. You looked so vulnerable, your dress wrinkled and breathing heavy as you let him assess. He welcomes your softness and realizes that he owes it to you to be vulnerable as well.
With a firm, certain, grip, he turns your body around, your stomach flutters in expectation as lust filled eyes land on the made bed. Only the inevitable force never came, you weren't shoved face down into the mattress in pure heat, instead Dex is moving your hair aside to fall on one shoulder. And that impacted your core more than any barge ever could. So you remained standing there, ignoring the heat in your stomach as the brooding man you'd come to know gently unzipped the back of your dress. Pushing the fabric down your hips, a hum escapes the claimant as he turns you back around with even kinder hands and you melted.
Sure in your intentions, you begin to unbutton his shirt and he watches you in the moment. Sometimes you often wonder what goes on in Dex's mind, but here you're certain that whatever thoughts that hammered in his head were anything but pure. When the fabric of his shirt meets your dress on the floor, a barely suppressed smile threatens to take over your face and his features silently requested for context, amused in your glow.
“You're so big,” appreciation dripped from your words, reinforced by your hands steady on his chest. Pride and something smug consumes Dex’s internal framework as he reaches for your bare waist, pulling you into him. Fuck. He liked how that felt, loved the feeling of you two skin to skin.
“That why you're always so touchy,” he huffed. It was a poor attempt to regulate himself from these overwhelming emotions. Still riding the dopamine high from your appraisal.
“Yes,” you nodded shamelessly.
At that a raw exhale breaks free from his mouth, falling in ardor before he's guiding you down to the bed. Dex’s gaze is locked on yours, at your body barely covered in cotton underwear as he prowls towards you on the duvet. Your presence was the single grounding planet in the uncharted stars of his nebula, an innate need to keep his focus on you and solely you to avoid getting lost in the orbit of his thoughts. Waiting patiently as exploratory hands trailed over your body, thumbs brushed over your nipples just once, before migrating down to your torso, eventually finding home on your hips.
Lips parted but nothing fell from them as words failed him. Instead his gaze darted up to meet yours as his fingers deliberately tugged your underwear, not fully, not even an inch down, just enough to get your attention and silently ask for permission.
Your body moved on its own, hastily squirming under his broad stature and pushing the thin fabric down your legs. The man over you had been the only thing plaguing the recesses of your brain for the past few weeks, consuming you with such unbidden thoughts. Anything would be done for him at this point. You barely got to kick the drenched cotton off before Dex's palm landed flat on one thigh, pushing it down hard against the bed and spreading you open for him. With a fluttering stomach so intense, your body fell back as you took in his state. Half dressed and tightly coiled, muscles pulling in restrain as he remained pinning your thigh down. His attention was locked onto you, or more so, your dripping cunt and an involuntary need to shut your legs was met with even more resistance from him.
He didn't appreciate you trying to hide from him, evident in his warning gaze. Without a word, his palm trailed up, the desire and craving to touch you won out in him. And suddenly hands that had only known violence was caressing you so softly and attentively, figuring out the definition of what it meant to be a lover.
God you were so wet and warm and soft and all the good things in the world…
Dex noticed your breathing growing more labored beneath him and instinctively he leaned back to watch you more, away from the disadvantage of being tucked into your neck. Your pupils were blown out, starry eyed as your brows creased and a pout settled on your lips. His fingers moved on their own as he watched, a new desire to pull more of those darling expressions from you forming. And as he sunk two cruel digits into your slopping wet heat, satisfaction invaded his senses as he took in your reaction. Your mouth parts in ecstasy, a sound Dex immediately knew he loved fell from your lips as your body arched up into him. And then that begging pout graced your features again, looking down at where his fingers fucked you.
So perhaps intimacy was everything people made it out to be, and so much more when it's with you. Dex was beginning to understand it now, the insatiable need to constantly be touching your person. Fuck, he doesn’t think he could ever go back to the way he was before. So fucking hesitant, unsure with anxiety that dibilitated him. He refused to be so rigid again, not when the sounds of your desire and need were music to his ears. He loved this, loved it in a way that was beginning to align with his new idea of normal. He could get used to this, to touching you, to fucking you.
Whining in protest as his fingers pulled away, your hands gripped at his chest in agony. Complains at the tip of your tongue before halting completely as you hear him begin to take his jeans off. Humming in delight as he strips. And fucking hell…. You were well aware of Dex’s large frame, it was one of the first things you noticed about him, second to the attractive scar on his cheek. But seeing him like this was something different entirely and you couldn't help yourself as you preened over his naked form again. Palms gliding the expansive plains of his back, brushing down his abs and strong chest as you sucked on his neck. Though judging by the expression on Dex's face, he didn't mind you playing. He let you have your fun until eventually pulling your lips off of him with a gentle hand at the back of your neck. A protest happened beneath him as you tried to chase after his body before stopping, noticing his hand on his member. And that shut you up real good.
Dex gently guides his hardened cock onto your dripping core. Rubbing his swollen head up and down your drenched skin before slowly sinking into you. A gasp falls from your lips followed by a desperate cry of want. His breath comes in rough bursts through his nose, focused entirely on you beneath him. How you take it, how you sound, how tight you feel with every drag out and push back in. The plains of his anatomy strained with tension as he exhaled in contentment. Dex thought he had come to know comfort, in the way you'd lean onto him during walks, how you raked your nails through his hair earlier. But this exceeded that in every capacity, comfort was a juvenile word to express how this felt like home. He's barely halfway through and already has to stop and compose himself. He let out a hiss, halting all movements as you clenched around him.
The sudden, full stretch makes you mewl out a sharp, startled sound And Dex freezes instantly, his entire body locking up. Has he hurt you? Was something wrong? He’s buried to the hilt now. It’s a lot. Too much all at once. A wave of something almost like guilt hits him, he hadn’t meant to scare you, but the sensation is… God.
"Shhh," he soothes automatically, instinctively brushing your cheek with his thumb despite how wrecked he feels right now.
You leaned into his touch, seeking for more and he's relieved. Needy palms finding a place on his biceps as you squirmed, looking down at where you both meet. Dex follows your gaze, watching his hardened cock buried deep in you. Yeah… that’s a lot.
"Tell me what you need," he murmurs, thumb brushing away another stray tear. "We can stop. Or go stupid slow.”
You let out a laugh that bled dangerously too close to a moan and Dex makes the decision of the latter for you. The first thrust is deliberate, deep and controlled, testing your reaction. The second follows, then a third, each one creating a filthy rhythm that fills the quiet room. He slowly fucks into you in a sedate, gentle manner. But gentleness is short-lived. His movements quickly grow faster till he was fucking you in a steady eager pace. Skin slaps against skin, joining the song of moans that you sing. The bed creaks under the weight, every movement is amplified in the hushed space. Rapture floods through you as any other thoughts that weren't Dex quickly subsides, giving way for your focal. Everything felt right in the world as he molded your body to his.
It was almost too much, his body caging yours in as his hips moved relentlessly. You knew you wouldn't last much longer if he kept going like this. But Dex was a man of intention, he took you like it was the only thing worth doing in his life.
The press of your hand against his pelvis, pushing, cunt trying to get him closer yet you were pulling away at the same time, sends conflicting signals straight to his dick. Your thighs around him squirmed, a telltale sign you're overwhelmed. Dex groans but doesn’t let up; if anything, he presses down harder on you with his hips, pinning yours in place.
"Take it," he rasps no room for argument. His skilled thumb lands on your clit, relentless despite the overstimulation threatening both of your bodies. The sound that left you was obscene and filthy as your head lulls back and Dex is quick to grab hold of your thigh and pull you closer towards him.
The new angle hits perfectly, your entire body jerks, a broken moan escaping as you tense around Dex’s hips. He learned you almost immediately from the very first second his fingers were inside you, he found where to target instantly. And now he abused that information.
He feels it, the way you clenched around him, and his own control wavers. But he holds on, focused solely on your pleasure, chasing every twitch and whimper with relentless precision. His lips find yours again in a messy, open-mouthed kiss as he pounded into you with controlled hits. A sound so similar to bullets in the air echoed at the impact, the wet sound, obscene, unfiltered, hitting him like a lightning bolt. Every thrust is accompanied by that slick, squelching noise: your arousal mixing with his movements. Dex learns that he loved that sound, it satisfied a part of his brain in a notion he couldn't understand but he knew that it fueled him even more. Dex's hips stutter for half a second at the realization of just how drenched you are for him.
A groan rumbles from his chest as he picks up speed, fucking you till you saw stars. A melody of moans and gasps filled the room with a symphony of skin heard with it. The walls welcome the sound with open arms as the atmosphere feels too hot and too heavy. You try to grab at the bed sheets despite Dex's tight grip on one of your wrists, you need something to ground you as you neared. Too much. It was all too much. Seamlessly, he laced his fingers with yours, still holding you down onto the bed but his grip softened.
You reciprocate the touch, tightly squeezing his hand as you feel the pressure capsize and your thighs shake in hot waves. You cry his name out, your back arching off the bed from the pleasure. His cock still sliding in and out of your dripping cunt, desperate to join you in your release, ignoring the coil of his muscles. He loves the way you say his name, so breathy and blinded by ecstasy. Dex breathes into your neck, the sensations becoming too much before a loud groan breaks his focus and he spills ropes of his cum into you. Immediately you primp under him, satiated and spoiled but your accord for touch remains ever present as you gently brush your nails up and down his back. And that sends him collapsing down onto you. Not that you seemed to mind as he heard a loud gleeful laugh beneath his large frame.
Dex exhales, long and slow, moving to stare at you. He’s not used to aftercare. Not with anyone. But here he is gently moving off you and tucking a throw blanket around your shoulders like you're something fragile. A calloused finger brushes a stray hair from your forehead, an absurdly tender gesture for someone who just fucked you into oblivion but you welcomed it.
He learned an entirely new vocabulary that night, and the education continued to expand exponentially in the weeks that followed.
He discovered, through application and obsessive cataloging, that he liked touch. He liked it an immeasurable, terrifying amount. He grew to absolutely love the specific jolt that occurred when you wake him up in the morning by lazily raking your nails across the broad, scarred expanse of his bare back. He loved the domestic weight of you playing with his hair while he sat on the living room floor, or the frantic, heavy way you would cling onto him when the city noise rattled the brownstone windows.
Methodically, his analytical mind began to solve the puzzle of how to return the same favor. He'd mapped your body with the same precision he applied to his targets, but with an entirely different objective.
He learned how to execute a kiss without needing an explicit verbal invitation, his large hands learning the exact amount of pressure required to tilt your chin upward to meet his mouth. He figured out how to use the immense, terrifying strength in his palms to gently massage the deep knots out of your shoulders after you spent a twelve-hour day hunched over the antique sewing machine. He studied the micro-movements of your muscles, tracking the specific shivers that rippled through your frame when his thumbs traced your collarbones, logging every sigh and hitch in your breath as data.
He figured out, with a profound, quiet sense of internal victory, that you loved every single form of physical touch imaginable, so long as it came entirely from him.
And he decided then, he loved intimacy.
AN: He's so fucking hot like i just can't!!! ! I haven't written smut in like 3 years so I didn't know what I was doing lol. Let me know what you guys think! Also you being a seamstress was entirely self indulgence because I go to fashion school lol.
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summary: You spent months trying to catch the person breaking into your apartment. The last thing you expected was waking up face to face with him.
pairings: benjamin “dex” poindexter x afab!reader
warnings: 17k words. mature themes. dubcon. voyeurism. unprotected p in v. stalking. home invasion. invasion of privacy. hidden cameras. fingering. panty stealing. masturbation mention. power imbalance. unhealthy relationship dynamics. firearm. praise kink. degradation. dirty talk. clothed grinding. hair pulling. clitoral stimulation. nipple play. breast play. multiple sex positions. internal ejaculation. creampie. breeding implications. read responsibly.
note: this fic took me a while to write it and also stressed me out. reblogs and comments are very much appreciated!
Dex looks back at the months before he ever knew you existed, and he can’t believe how everything changed. He used to maintain his schedule, but now his entire life revolves around what you do. He didn’t plan to follow your path home or learn your daily habits when he first saw you. It started out as a random coincidence on a Tuesday night, yet it turned into a fixation he couldn’t stop. Now he spends his evenings watching your windows from the shadows across the street, and he remembers every single detail of the moment his small little world got disrupted. It happened late at night at the local supermarket while you stood in the brightly lit produce section. You were inspecting the fruit display when you already had two large pineapples resting in your basket.
Dex stepped up right beside you to check the pile for himself because he needed something to do with his hands. He watched your face as you turned another pineapple around to check the surface, and he wanted to speak up before he could hold himself back. He wanted to see how you would react to being interrupted. You moved your hair out of your way, but you didn’t look up until he initiated the conversation. He picked up a fruit of his own and turned it in his hand before he spoke. “That’s plenty of pineapples for a girl like you,” Dex said as he rolled the rough texture under his palm. You stopped what you’re doing while heat flooded your face because you knew what people thought about that specific fruit.
Your shoulders tensed up while you clutched the handle of your basket tightly to hide your sudden discomfort. Dex sensed the immediate change in your posture, and he realized what his words implied. “Oh, god. No, no,” Dex muttered while he held his hands up to show he wasn’t trying to be crude. “That’s not what I mean at all,” he added before you could walk away from the display. “I have a big family,” you lied as you tossed the third pineapple into your basket and tried to look confident. He could see right through the deception because your nervous blinking gave everything away. “Sure, pineapple girl,” Dex replied with a chuckle before he turned on his heel and left you alone with the fruits.
You thought the strange encounter was over, but he waited outside the glass doors until you finished paying for your groceries. He kept his distance on the dark sidewalk as you walked towards your apartment building, which was only a short distance from the store. He trailed behind you on the dark streets, and he carefully watched how you walked. You reached the front entrance and unlocked the door before you stepped inside without checking behind you. He watched from across the road until a single light flipped on in a third-floor window, and he confirmed his initial suspicion. There was no big family waiting inside that apartment because you lived by yourself. Living alone without checking your surroundings isn’t safe at all.
What if a different person found you instead of him? Someone else might easily have bad intentions if they followed you to your door. Dex wouldn’t do anything actually to hurt you, though. He constantly tells himself he only wants to watch over you. He believes he’s doing you a massive favor by making sure nobody else can get close. You’re unaware of how vulnerable you are every single night. Dex cared about you enough to learn every detail of your life. He knows you have an old laptop you only ever use for writing. He didn’t know who you were writing about at first, but he looked it up later. He learned that you write stories about characters in movies or on television.
The internet showed him that whatever you do in your free time is called fanfiction. Dex only found out about your hobby because he cared enough to pick the lock of your apartment while you were out. He found the same key for your door online, so he could come back whenever he wanted. He also cared enough to install multiple cameras from different angles inside your apartment. You won’t ever find them because they’re well hidden in places you barely ever look at or touch. The only place lacking a camera right now is your bathroom. He knows he’s a huge hypocrite for putting a camera in your bedroom without putting one in the shower too. He prefers to draw a weird line right there so he doesn’t feel like a creep.
He wants to watch you sleep or type on your bed rather than cross that one boundary. It makes him feel like a protector instead of a bad guy. Dex rarely follows you around the streets when you actually leave your home. He does it sometimes, but doing it in person is a lot more tiring. Trailing behind you in public has way too much risk compared to breaking in. He much prefers watching over the camera screens when he relaxes comfortably at his own place. He finally started reading some of the stories you wrote by opening your laptop while he stood right inside your bedroom. Dex already figured out the fanfiction part earlier, yet he didn’t realize you were writing pure smut until he actually clicked on the specific documents.
He never expected a girl like you to write something so dirty and he couldn’t even imagine doing half the things he read, but you somehow brought them into reality. What only drove him to jerk off in the first place was when he found out your hidden drafts on that old laptop. Finding those files made him start digging your dirty panties out of your laundry basket whenever he visits your empty apartment. He uses the unwashed fabric to jerk off to the scenes you wrote while he takes a spot on the edge of your bed. He imagined it was you and him doing it while he read a draft where the characters were fucking over a table.
He easily pictured bending you over your own table to make you read your own words out loud while his cock thrusts inside your cunt. Dex swears he always brings the garments right back to their spot in the hamper so you never notice they went missing. He was never sloppy when he did those kinds of things in your apartment. He never actually took your clothes home because he made sure they were strictly for one-time use. He would find a pair of dirty panties, and he always put them right back in the same spot after he finished. He never left any evidence behind that could prove he was inside your bedroom while you were gone. He knew your schedule well, so he knew how much time he had to finish his business before you came back.
He never let himself get distracted enough to make a careless mistake. Dex likes to think he’s a good guy at the end of the day. He might admit he’s a little perverted, but he’s just a normal guy. What else was he supposed to do when he read those things on your screen? His cock got hard as soon as he pictured you doing those acts so that he couldn’t ignore it. He couldn’t just take care of it right then and there. He convinced himself it was natural for a man to react that way to such graphic writing. He didn’t feel guilty because he believed anyone else in his position would do the same thing. He even went into your bathroom to clean himself up whenever he had extra time. He memorized how everything originally looked before he ever touched your things, so he remembered where every item belonged.
Dex’s condition actually helped his case during these visits because he couldn’t physically rest until everything in the room looked the way he’d left it. He would adjust the laundry basket or wipe down the sink until the apartment was spotless again. He made sure the entire place looked untouched so you would never suspect a single thing. He left your home as he found it every time. What he doesn’t know is that you aren’t stupid or clueless at all. You felt it for weeks, and maybe even months. You get a strange feeling that someone has been inside your apartment while you were gone. You always feel like someone is watching you, but proving it is hard. Trying to confirm your suspicions never works out because every single item is where you left it.
Sometimes the whole apartment smells different when you walk through the front door. There are times you smell a trace of an unknown laundry detergent on your bedsheets, or you notice a different cologne in the bedroom. The place smells like a man when you come back home. You start taking photos of your rooms before you leave. Your camera roll fills up with pictures of your bookshelf, desk, and kitchen counter. Then you compare them on your phone once you get back home, but every object matches the photos, so it only makes you feel crazier. You didn’t tell your friends about the situation since nobody would ever take you seriously. They would blame it on your stress or point out how burnt out you are.
Your obsession with horror movies and documentaries would become their excuse for your fear if you ever told them, so you prefer to hide the truth. It bothers you too much that you wonder if you are mentally unwell, especially those nights when you wake up from interrupted sleep because you feel somebody is standing right beside your bed, yet the room is always empty when you look around. Your paranoia led you to change little things on purpose to test your sanity. Leaving your laptop directly on the bed instead of your desk is your first attempt at setting a trap, but nothing happened. You try turning a random book upside down on the shelf. Sometimes you even leave a cabinet door slightly open in the kitchen before walking out of the place.
Everything is the way you usually leave it every time you return home. It scares you more than you’ll ever admit. A normal person breaking in would never bother cleaning up after themselves, or at least they would get sloppy enough. You decide to do something about the situation to cope with it. That’s why you start writing a new story about your experience. It’s obvious a stalker must check their victim’s gadgets too. The plot revolves around a stalker character and a woman who knows somebody is watching her but can’t prove a single thing, which is basically just your situation. Typing it out helps you manage your anxiety at first. You use the story as a test to see if anyone is actually looking through your laptop.
What you don’t realize is that Dex is actually reading those drafts. He sees every single word you type about him, but simply writing about the situation doesn’t rattle him. It pushes you to try something more direct, where you type out a new scene in which the victim leaves a sticky note beside her laptop. The note contains three simple words asking who the stalker is. You write that draft late at night, and you have absolutely no idea he knows what you are doing because he watches you type through the hidden cameras inside your bedroom. You tell yourself to wait for the morning to actually write it on the paper, and you stand by your word when you grab a sticky note from your desk the second you wake up.
You write the same question and leave a simple ‘Who are you?’ right beside your closed laptop so your room matches the draft before you leave for the day. You expect to feel a sense of control over the situation, yet your stomach drops the moment you lock your front door. The anxiety follows you everywhere you go and makes it difficult to focus on anything else because you only want to get back home to check your desk. You expect to find a clear answer waiting for you, but everything looks the same when you step inside. There is nothing different, and not even a single item is out of place. It leaves you feeling disappointed after seeing the paper resting there without anything written on it besides your own handwriting.
The scene ends where you left it, without a single letter edited in your document, too. You desperately want him to react, and the lack of proof frustrates you more than you would ever admit. It makes you wonder if you are losing your mind over nothing. That frustration only pushes you to try harder, so you write another scene showing how the victim feels like she is going crazy from the silence. You write that the character leaves a new message claiming ‘I know you’re here.’ before you put a second real note right beside your laptop. You refuse to move the paper or write anything new since you put that on your desk, and you force yourself to wait for him to make a move. You spend three days checking that same spot every single morning and night without getting a single reaction.
The agonizing wait only makes you more bothered by every little sound in your apartment until you decide to escalate the situation after waiting two more exhausting days. You write about the victim leaving a cup on the kitchen counter to catch her stalker, and you put a sticky note underneath a mug in your actual kitchen right after you finish typing. What you do in real life becomes a reflection of what you write on your laptop. You ask a simple question on the paper and put, ‘Are you reading this?’ to test if he actually reads your screen. You spend your entire time outside your home distracted, as you constantly wonder if this attempt will finally work. Maybe it’s fate that your instincts are telling you something because there are finally changes when you push your front door open later that night.
The mug is positioned where you left it, so nothing seems obvious at first glance. The sticky note waits hidden at the bottom, and you almost throw the paper away in defeat until you notice the mug is facing the wrong direction. You realize that the small detail has to be an intentional answer. The handle originally pointing toward the refrigerator now points directly at the sink. Nobody else would ever spot such a small difference, but you only notice it because you took a photo to compare against the counter. Your hands shake while you hold your phone up close to the cup. You don’t call the police or tell your friends about the update regardless of how you feel. You immediately run to your room to finish the draft you’re working on instead.
You type out how the stalker visited the apartment and moved the mug so the victim finally gets her proof. A sick thrill takes over you after finally confirming a real person was actually inside your personal space. That adrenaline makes you write another update where the victim becomes much bolder about the whole situation. She stops asking whether somebody is there because she already knows the undeniable truth. You refuse to let that rush of adrenaline die down, so you quickly plan your next move. The chapter ends with her wanting to know what the stalker wants from her. You stick a new note directly onto the center of your laptop screen asking, ‘What do you want from me?’ right before you leave your apartment the following morning.
It brings a personal risk, but you crave the closure it might bring. The note is where you left it when you finally returned hours later. You pull it off the screen, and your heart races while you flip the paper over. You trace your trembling fingers over the letters because his only response is a handwritten ‘Keep writing, sweetheart.’ on the back. The reality of the situation slaps you in the face while you stare down at his handwriting. Who actually does something like this? What kind of sick freak thinks this is a game? You are so pissed that your fingers dig into the edge of the desk. You grab a marker to write a message telling the stalker to fuck off. You leave the paper on your desk and threaten to call the police if he ever comes back.
“Just leave me alone,” you mutter to the empty room. That was your boiling point to stop writing more drafts to entertain a sicko. You shut your laptop hard enough that it makes a loud sound against your desk, and you almost throw the machine across the room. Dex watches you through the live feed on his monitor with a small smirk on his face. He leans back in his chair because he loves seeing you get all fired up, yet he avoids your apartment for the next few days to give you space rather than backing away out of fear. He wants you to deal with your own anger. The silence he gives you almost makes you believe your threat scared him away. Are you safe? Did he actually listen to you? It feels like you can breathe again, but you should have known a guy this obsessed would never easily give up.
You should have known he would pull some tricks on you, like leaving a rose right on your kitchen counter. How the fuck did he even get inside again? You grab the flower and then throw it into the trash without a second thought. Dex watches you destroy his gift through the screen before he rubs a hand over his face in frustration. He can’t understand why you would do that, but he also loves pushing your buttons. Did you not like the flower he picked? Who wouldn’t like roses? It was the first flower he bought to test the waters since it was always a classic choice. He is a persistent guy, so he leaves more bouquets despite your refusal to acknowledge them. He knows it pisses you off, and he thrives on it even when every single one ends up in the garbage the second you find them.
He switches to tulips the next time he visits your place, but you don’t even try to smell them. Flowers are not cheap in this economy, yet he is willing to buy different kinds of flowers as gifts for you, only to see how mad you can get. His next choice is peonies because he hopes to figure out what will make you smile, or maybe he wants to see you snap again. What does he expect you to do? Thank him for stalking you? Write him a love letter? Those gifts might feel less threatening, but they invade your personal space. The way you ignore every delivery starts working, though, because it drives him crazy. He might be getting frustrated by you, but your fear starts to turn into pure annoyance. You hate yourself for starting to expect flowers waiting for you after a few weeks, and that makes you angry because he acts like a boyfriend instead of a stalker with crazy tendencies.
Why is he playing house with you? It makes your stomach churn that you have to check around out of habit to see what kind of flower he brought inside. You know what he’s doing, and he’s fucked to think he can train you to act like a pet waiting for a treat from its owner, but this time you refuse to let it happen. You are not dumb enough to ignore the break-ins, and you are tired of his shit. He’s wearing down your patience to the point where you’re considering hiring someone to replace the locks. You pay good money so that you can feel safe again, but replacing them does absolutely nothing. Dex picks the door in seconds, like he always does, before he leaves another bouquet on your kitchen table the next afternoon.
How is he doing this? Is your privacy a joke to him? Him picking the new lock pisses you off way more than the flowers do. He has no boundaries at all, and he wants you to know it. “You have got to be kidding me,” you groan out loud while tossing the fresh flowers into the trash. You start leaving hostile written messages scattered around the apartment knowing he will read them. You want him to know how much you despise his actions. You put notes on the fridge or the bathroom mirror out of spite to tell him how much you hate his presence. Dex collects every piece of paper you leave behind like he enjoys making you angry. He never leaves a written response to any of your notes because he wants to see how far your frustration will push you.
His responses come through actions instead, like leaving a basket of groceries on your counter or dropping off a new book you wanted. Does he think he is taking care of you? Is he treating you like a pet? You reach your breaking point when you open the fridge to find a new carton of milk he bought for you. The audacity makes you want to move away and live somewhere else. “Stop hiding like a coward!” you shout at the ceiling before grabbing a marker from the counter. You write a message telling him to show his face if he plans to continue entering your home because you are done playing his stupid game. Dex watches you slap the paper onto the fridge, and he smiles knowing you finally gave him the invitation he wanted.
His only response to your angry message is a short note left right on your bathroom mirror. It says ‘See you soon’ without any other explanation. You spend the next few weeks waiting for him to make a move. The first week is hell because every noise outside your apartment makes you think tonight is finally the night. You spend hours staring at the ceiling while wondering if he’s standing right outside your door. Your mind goes right back to how easily he got inside before every time you try to find some comfort, everything might be over. You even start looking inside your closet or pulling back the shower curtain every time you come home. How long can someone continue living like this before they finally lose it?
Nothing happens yet, but somehow that makes everything worse because it feels like you’re just waiting for him to show up. The lack of effort from him makes the anticipation worse. The paranoia drains your energy until you can barely hold your eyes open during the second week. You stop checking the door every few minutes because you’re too tired to continue doing it. All you could do was get through the day, then come home to an apartment that’s constantly messing with your head. That exhaustion lets your guard down when the third week passes without any new flowers or rearranged groceries. You convince yourself the note was just another way to scare you. Maybe he got bored and found someone else to mess with.
You actually think he gave up after you didn’t find any sign that someone got inside again. You slowly start to believe you’re alone again, so you don’t bother checking every corner of your bedroom before climbing into bed. You don’t even remember falling asleep because the next thing you know you’re staring up at your ceiling again when something wakes you up in the middle of the night. You don’t think anything of it at first because you’ve been waking up like this almost every night. Nothing bad ever happens when you wake up like this, so why would tonight be any different? You only wait there for a few seconds before pushing yourself up against the headboard to rub your eyes because all you want is to look around the room before going back to sleep.
Everything seems normal at first glance until you notice somebody sitting right at the edge of your bed. This can’t actually be happening right now. You instinctively yank the blanket up closer around yourself while staring at the intruder who somehow got past your door again. How the fuck did he get inside? It takes a few seconds for your brain to process who it is. The guy isn’t some random stranger because you recognize him from the supermarket. You shouldn’t even remember that awkward conversation about pineapples, yet everything suddenly makes sense. Everything leads back to him, and you try to process how long he has been waiting there watching you sleep. Dex doesn’t move closer to you or try to touch you.
He looks comfortable, as if being in your bedroom in the middle of the night were the most normal thing in the world. He doesn’t move from where he is to let you process the situation before he speaks. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he says calmly while he looks right at you. He notices the fear on your face before he tells you that he genuinely believes those words should reassure you. Those promises mean nothing coming from a man like him. You don’t find his reassurance comforting in the slightest bit because he already crossed every possible boundary long before he appeared in your bedroom. There isn’t a single part of this that is okay. What kind of logic makes him think those words are enough, after everything he’s already been through?
The audacity of his calmness sparks anger right beneath your fear. He already broke into your home to watch you sleep, so there is no excuse for this. “Get the fuck out of my apartment,” you demand while trying to steady your shaking voice as you point toward the bedroom door. You expect him to apologize for sneaking in, but he acts like this entire situation is normal. Dex ignores your order from the edge of the bed. “I’m one of the good guys,” he says calmly while watching your reaction. You let out a breath because you can’t believe a single word coming from a man who spent months stalking you. “Good guys don’t break into houses to watch people sleep,” you snap back at him while gripping the blanket.
The lack of guilt on his face makes you want to punch him since he honestly thinks he did nothing wrong. “Your intentions don’t matter after everything you already did, so prove it instead of expecting blind trust,” you say while maintaining your distance from him. Dex nods before reaching toward the waistband of his pants. You tense up because you genuinely think he’s finally about to attack you. He slowly pulls out the gun he brought with him instead. You expect him to aim it, but he places the firearm on the mattress right between the two of you. He gently nudges the pistol toward you so it sits closer to your hands. You stare at the object while trying to figure out his actual plan.
“Take it,” he says while he checks your face for a reaction. “If you really think I’m here to hurt you, then you should have something to stop me,” he explains while leaving his hands visible. He rests his palms against his thighs, so you know he isn’t grabbing anything else. This action is meant to reassure you, but it only reminds you that you have no idea what he is thinking. You hesitate to grab the pistol because every instinct tells you this is a bad idea. What if he just wants an excuse to hurt you? You eventually reach out to snatch the gun off the sheets before you can change your mind. You grip the handle tightly and point the barrel directly at his forehead without even thinking about it.
You expect him to dodge or hold his hands up in defense. Dex doesn’t flinch or argue with you at all. He doesn’t try to take the gun back either. You can feel the sweat forming on your palms while you hold the weapon up. He sits on the bed while you aim the firearm in his direction with shaking hands. You wait for him to do something while resting your finger right next to the trigger. The room is silent while Dex slowly scoots closer across the mattress instead of backing away from the gun. “Stop moving,” you warn him while tightening your grip on the pistol. He ignores your warning without acting aggressively at all. He moves forward until the barrel is only a few inches from his face. You push yourself harder against the headboard to get away from him.
He leans forward until his forehead touches the metal. He looks you straight in the eye without blinking. This gesture isn’t a bluff or some kind of challenge to him. Dex genuinely believes he’s proving he never intended to hurt you. You are dealing with someone whose mind works nothing like everyone else’s. “Shut the fuck up,” you warn him while pushing the barrel against his forehead. Dex doesn’t flinch away from the metal. “You’re not going to shoot me,” he says, and watches your expression. He talks like you hold a toy instead of a loaded gun. “You spent months leaving notes to make me show up,” he explains before pointing at the weapon. He believes those papers were an open invitation. “You wanted this as badly as I did,” he adds without a hint of fear.
You shake your head to shut down his twisted logic. “I wanted to know if I was going fucking crazy,” you snap back at him and push the gun harder against his skin. You insist you only left those messages to prove someone was breaking in. “I never wanted some creep inside my apartment,” you tell him while your chest heaves with every breath. Dex doesn’t look convinced by your anger. “We’ve been communicating for months already,” he argues like you two were exchanging friendly letters. He views the situation as a normal relationship instead of an invasion of your privacy. He ignores the weapon to bring up private details nobody else should know. “You’re a good writer,” he says, and looks into your eyes.
“Don’t bring that shit up,” you warn him while your finger twitches over the trigger. “I opened every document on that laptop because I wanted to know you,” he confesses while watching your face. You think he lies to get inside your head. “Even the drafts you never posted,” he adds before quoting a line from a scene where a character begs to be fucked on a desk. You never posted any of those drafts online, yet he knew the exact lines, so you realized he had really gone through your computer. Dex doesn’t stop there because he wants you to know what he does in your bedroom. “I read those stories way before you started leaving me notes,” he reveals while a smirk forms on his lips. He casually mentions how much he enjoyed reading your dirty drafts whenever he broke into your place.
You stare at him as you try to process the invasion of your privacy. “I didn’t expect you to write things like that,” he says before chuckling at your reaction. The way he talks about your personal files makes you feel exposed. “You have such a dirty mind,” he says without any shame. Dex finally lifts his hand from his thigh and reaches forward to touch your face. He brings his hand up to the back of your head while his thumb gently rubs your cheek. He slowly runs his fingers through your hair like he is trying to calm you down. You let the gun fall onto the mattress so you can place both hands against his chest to push him away. His body doesn’t move an inch when you shove him backward.
You try to push him a second time, but he ignores your effort. Your frustration boils over so you punch his chest before your hands grab handfuls of his shirt. “Get off me right now,” you demand while glaring up at him. Dex caresses your hair without acting bothered by your anger. “You can punch me all you want,” he says before he looks down at your hands. He tilts his head because he feels the anger radiating off your body. “I really don’t want to hurt you,” Dex promises while looking right into your eyes. You don’t believe a single word coming out of his mouth. He notices your doubt, so he tries to explain himself again. “I have no intention of harming you,” he insists while his voice sounds calm.
You want to scream because stalking is already a crime. “I never left any threats around the apartment,” he points out before defending his actions. He acts like unlocking your door is no big deal. He even reminds you of the times he fixed things around the apartment without asking for a thank-you. “I only ever left you flowers or groceries instead of anything dangerous,” he reminds you while his fingers massage your scalp. You know he is right about the gifts, but having a stranger inside your home is terrifying enough. You refuse to let him play the good guy. “You broke into my house,” you remind him while tightening your grip on his shirt. He nods slowly because he understands why you are so angry.
He knows you never asked for this situation, but he genuinely believes he is doing the right thing. You want to wipe that understanding look off his face so you insult him. “You’re just a lonely fucking loser,” you spit at him while hoping to finally piss him off. You try to find the cruelest thing to say. “You have no life so you have to stalk mine,” you add while watching for a reaction. Dex doesn’t look angry or offended by your words at all. He expects you to hate him so he accepts the insults without arguing back. He doesn’t think you should be grateful for his presence. “I know you hate me right now,” he replies while his hand continues stroking the back of your head. His voice sounds way too sincere for a home invader.
“But I just want to protect you from everyone else,” he explains like that justifies all his actions. His twisted reasoning baffles you. “What if some other guy found those stories on your laptop?” Dex asks before he scoffs at the thought. He shakes his head while imagining a different scenario. “Another guy would just force himself on you after reading all that,” he tells you while his fingers move softly against your scalp. He expects you to thank him for reading your computer. “You’re sick in the head,” you tell him because his reasoning is insane. Dex chuckles again while he stares down at your hands holding his shirt. He tilts his chin down to look at the space between your bodies.
“If I’m so sick, then why am I stopping you from calling the cops?” he asks without raising his voice at all. You look at your arms and realize he isn’t restraining you at all. “I’m not even holding you here by force,” he points out while his hands rest gently against your face and head. You hate to admit his trick actually works on you. He acts like you have full control over the situation, only to mess with your head. You know he could easily hurt you right now if he actually wanted to do it. “You think I believe that bullshit?” you ask him while your hands grip his shirt tighter. What kind of idiot would trust a man who breaks into homes because they think they’re protecting you? He’s playing a twisted game to see what you’ll do.
His claim that you can call the cops is obviously a lie. You know damn well he would run away, or you would end up dead long before the police ever arrived. He wants you to believe you hold all the power, but you know how dangerous he really is. “I promise you’re safe with me,” he whispers while his fingers move softly through your hair. The way he repeats he won’t hurt you messes with your head. He holds his other hand on your face as his thumb rubs your lower lip. You hate how your body reacts to him because you instinctively part your mouth without even meaning to. You end up breathing through your mouth the second your lips open under his thumb. “You have nothing to fear from me,” he tells you again like it’s the absolute truth.
The way he touches you makes your brain forget how messed up this whole thing is. It feels disturbing to experience something like this in reality. There are times you read books or watch movies about obsessed guys, but you never expected a stalker to actually show up in your bedroom. You always thought you would fight back or scream if this ever happened, yet here you are just letting him touch your face without doing a single thing to stop him, and it makes you feel pathetic. Dex watches your face carefully before he speaks again. “You call me lonely, but you’re exactly the same,” he points out while looking right into your eyes. He knows you spend all your time alone so you don’t have anyone else to take care of you.
He thinks you need him just because you don’t go out with friends every weekend. The pure arrogance in his voice makes you want to slap him. “I can take care of myself just fine,” you argue back before trying to turn your face away. He moves his hand with you to maintain his grip on your jaw. “You shouldn’t have to do it all by yourself,” he replies before he finally tests the waters. He slips his thumb past your parted lips to rest it directly against your tongue. You let out a muffled sound against his finger because you didn’t expect him to actually do that. His thumb tastes a little salty right on your tongue. You try to back away, but his fingers tighten in your hair to stop you from escaping, and you glare at him.
“I want to take care of you,” he adds while watching your chest rise with another deep breath. Dex uses his thumb inside your mouth and pushes it down on your tongue. The pad of his finger scrapes against your teeth before resting deep inside. You try to use your hands on his shirt to shove him away again. You want to scream at him to get out, but you can’t even form a word. He simply leans over you and uses his body weight to press you against the headboard. His chest pushes against your arms while his thumb stops you from speaking. “I really want to take care of you,” he whispers right to your face. He acts like having his fingers deep in your mouth is an ordinary part of the conversation. “You never let anyone else do it,” he adds as he watches your chest rise.
He looks you straight in the eye while you struggle to breathe around his hand. You try to swallow around his thumb, but the action makes your throat tighten uncomfortably. A muffled sound slips out before you can bite it back. You glare up at him with hatred right in your eye and want to look disgusted, but your body betrays your anger. The warmth of his hand on your face feels entirely too good, so your eyelids flutter shut for a second while a breath hitches in your chest. The involuntary reaction happens before you can even stop it. You open your eyes again to find him staring down at you. He watches your pupils dilate with a satisfied smirk on his face. You want to punch him for making you feel like this, and you hate that you just gave him what he wants.
He notices every reaction you try to hide from him, and he sees the exact moment your anger turns into something else. “Fuck,” Dex mutters under his breath as he takes in your expression. He sounds genuinely amazed by the way you react to him. “Look at you,” he whispers before a smirk forms on his face. He knows what he is doing to you, yet he points out how fast you gave up fighting him despite how much you claim to hate his guts. His arrogant tone makes you want to wipe that smirk away. You try to bite his thumb to erase that look off his face. Dex easily slides his finger deeper before your teeth can actually catch him. He pushes his thumb down harder on your tongue to force your mouth open again while his other hand grips your hair more firmly to tilt your head back.
The way he effortlessly pins you down against the headboard makes your stomach drop, and you feel fear with an unwanted thrill. You start to question whether you actually enjoy what he is doing to you right now. You wonder if you are really dumb enough to fold for a guy who broke into your apartment. A part of you wants to know if his gentle actions prove he won’t actually hurt you. Your brain struggles to process all these confusing thoughts at once. You should be fighting for your life, but your body wants more of his attention, and that’s when you realize you are leaning into his touch instead of pulling away. You look down and see how your hands are tangled in his shirt, and you’re no longer pushing him away from your body at all.
You clutch the fabric of his shirt while his hand rests firmly in your hair. Dex leans down until his lips almost brush against your ear. “Tell me to stop,” he whispers directly against your neck. He promises he will walk away forever if you just say the word. You know he would never actually let you go, and he wants you to admit you want this just as much as he does. He turns his head until his mouth grazes along your jawline. He slowly pulls his thumb out of your mouth to leave a wet string of saliva behind, and you let out a whine when he does that. He wipes his damp thumb on your top before his hand drops down to grab your waist tightly. “Tell me to quit leaving things and watching you,” he begs, like he actually needs your permission to leave.
He waits for your answer while his chest is inches away from yours. You don’t say a single word while your hand moves up from his shirt. You slide your fingers to the back of his head to gently caress his hair. You look at him and realize you don’t want him to leave even though you know he is crazy for doing all of those things in the first place, but having him right here feels better than being alone. Your hand moves from his hair down to his shoulder instead of bringing him into a kiss against the headboard. You push against his chest just enough to create some space between your bodies. You don’t tell him to stop or leave the apartment, but you finally make him back off. “Go get my laptop from the desk,” you tell him while pointing across the room.
Dex looks confused for a second because he clearly didn’t expect you to say that. He stands up anyway before walking over to grab the laptop. You crawl forward to sit right in the middle of the mattress while he has his back turned. You want him to realize you are not just going to roll over for him like he expects you to. He walks back over to the bed and hands the device over to you. You flip the screen open and log in before pushing it right back into his chest. “Open your favorite one,” you instruct him while watching his face. You know he has a preference after spending so much time snooping through your files. You want to see what kind of things he enjoys reading the most. “Read it out loud to me,” you tell him while pointing at the screen.
You challenge him directly to see if he can actually handle the words he claims to enjoy. You want to hear his voice saying those sentences. “Read the part you liked the most,” you add, so he has to make the choice himself. Dex actually hesitates for a second and gets flustered by your words. He just had you pinned against the headboard, but now he suddenly looks caught off guard. He tries to look at the screen instead of looking at your face. His fingers hesitate over the keyboard while he stares blankly at the folders. He just sits there in silence without clicking on a single file. You watch him struggle to type the title into the search bar. “Are you actually shy right now?” you ask him while leaning slightly closer to his face. You cannot believe the guy who broke into your house is suddenly struggling to speak.
You let out a short laugh because the role reversal is almost funny. “You had absolutely no problem sneaking into my apartment and watching me,” you point out while he refuses to look up. You remind him that he crossed every single boundary long before today. You make sure he realizes how stupid his hesitation looks. “You already read all of them behind my back,” you remind him while waiting for a reaction. You know he spent hours staring at your laptop while you were gone. “It’s pathetic you’re suddenly embarrassed to read them out loud,” you add while watching him swallow. He scoffs at your insult, but he finally starts typing the title of the story. He clicks the document open before scrolling down the page to find the specific paragraph.
He reads the words on the screen silently to himself for a few seconds. “Why do I even need to read this out loud?” Dex asks while focusing his eyes on the text. He tries to act unaffected while sitting right across from you. “It’s not like you’re actually going to let me fuck you like this,” he adds while pointing at the screen. He is obviously trying to provoke you so he can take control again. You might fall a little right into his game without even thinking about it. “I didn’t tell you we wouldn’t,” you answer back while looking right into his eyes. You don’t give him a clear yes-or-no, but the vague reply works perfectly. Dex smirks a little bit before he clicks the cursor at the top of the paragraph. He clears his throat and prepares to read your filthy words back to you.
Dex clears his throat before he glances up at you. He places the laptop onto the sheets right beside him so he can view the screen. He looks back down at the document as he prepares to read your words out loud. “He pushes her legs open to get a good look at her cunt,” Dex starts reading directly from your laptop. He sounds casual while saying filthy sentences. You stare at him because you can’t believe he actually said that without any shame. Hearing your own words spoken out loud makes your stomach drop. He reaches his free hand forward to grab your knee right after he finishes the line. You watch him push your legs apart while his eyes scan the next paragraph. Dex drops his eyes back to the screen while his hand grips your thigh.
“You’re so fucking wet,” he says while quoting the dialogue from the character. He uses a deeper voice so it sounds like he’s genuinely saying it to you. His hand sneaks up your leg before he rests his palm right between your thighs. You try to squeeze your legs shut, but his arm blocks you from moving. You part your lips when his knuckles brush against your sleep shorts. “His eyes can’t look away from between her legs,” Dex reads next while he looks right at your crotch. He looks where his hand cups right over your cunt. “Open wider for me,” Dex demands while pushing your knee further to the side. He doesn’t look at the laptop to say that part because he wants you to obey him right now.
You hate how easily your body listens, so you let your legs fall further apart. Dex smirks while watching you expose yourself to him. He drags his thumb right over the seam of your shorts to tease you. He looks satisfied before he glances back at the screen. “She begs him to touch her while her hips buck up against him,” he reads aloud as he moves closer to you. You try to close your legs, but he forces your knee back down. “Mm- stop it,” you complain while trying to grab his wrist. He easily dodges your hand before he pushes his palm firmly against your crotch. You try to squirm away on the mattress, but his grip on your thigh holds you where he wants you. He knows you want this even if you try to fight him off.
“I haven’t even read the best part yet,” he replies while his eyes look over the next few lines. He uses the heel of his hand to grind right against your cunt through the thin fabric of your sleep shorts. “Nngh-” you gasp out as he finds the right spot. He applies more pressure while rotating his hand around your cunt. You realize he plans to use your own story to turn you on while he touches you just like this. “You’ll take it so well for me,” Dex reads aloud while his palm rubs against your sleep shorts. He looks back at the screen before he continues reading the next paragraph. “He guides his thick cock right against her cunt and drags the head through all her wetness,” he quotes as he pushes his hand harder against your crotch.
You hate how good it feels against your body. “He teases her by sliding it up and down her folds without putting it inside, yet,” he finishes the sentence while staring right at your face. Your legs part then close involuntarily because he grinds the heel of his hand over your clit. “You’re dripping for me,” he adds while his hand rests right between your thighs. You know what you wrote on that laptop. You know you never typed that specific line he just said. “You just made that part up,” you accuse him while trying to control your breathing. You glare at him because he just twisted your own words. “Maybe I did,” he answers back with a smug look on his face. He clearly enjoys seeing you get so defensive about it.
“It fits the situation,” he argues back before he pushes his palm firmer against your crotch. The unexpected pressure makes you grab a handful of his shirt. “I can already feel the dampness soaking right through your clothes,” he tells you with a smirk. You honestly have no idea if he’s bluffing or telling the truth. He continues reading the filthy scene to tease you. “He pulls her hips backward so he gets a clear view of her wet cunt before he lines his cock up,” he reads aloud while watching your reaction. You try to look away, but his eyes follow your every movement. “He pushes the tip right against her cunt and slowly slides his entire length inside,” he recites while grinding the heel of his hand against your shorts.
You feel worked up by his touch, and making him read the story out loud was supposed to give you the upper hand. You wanted to make him embarrassed, but the plan backfired since he’s the one touching you. He clearly enjoys having control over you right now. He scrolls down the document to skip to the part he loved the most in what you wrote. “He forces her onto all fours so he can finally take her from behind,” Dex recites while his thumb finds your clit through the fabric. You gasp out loud when he circles the sensitive spot. “His hands grab her hips tightly to hold her in place on the mattress,” he continues reading as he grinds his palm right over your center. “He pulls his cock almost all the way out before slamming it back deep into her cunt,” he quotes aloud before pushing down harder against your shorts.
He watches your hips buck slightly upward to meet his palm. “He fucks her from behind without giving her a single second to recover,” he reads next while he moves his palm faster against your shorts. You try to squeeze your thighs shut, but his arm blocks your legs from closing. “He shoves his cock inside her cunt repeatedly until she screams for him to fuck her harder,” he finishes the paragraph while his thumb circles your clit. You hate that he knows how to get you so worked up. “Nn- your reading voice fucking sucks,” you insult him to hide how good he makes you feel. You try to sound annoyed, but your body betrays your words. He just chuckles at your pathetic attempt to insult him while he continues to torture you with his hand.
“Then why are you grinding right against my hand?” he asks as you involuntarily push your hips up into his palm. You realize he’s right since your body reacts to every single movement he makes. “Hah- shut up,” you gasp out when his thumb pushes down harder. He loves watching you lose your mind over his fingers. “Mm-” you complain instead of giving him a real answer. Your hands grip the bedsheets instead of actually shoving him off. “Do you want me to stop reading now?” he questions while his hand continues working between your legs. He knows you won’t tell him to stop because you want him to touch you. “Did you finally prove your point?” he asks to remind you that your little plan failed.
You reach forward to push the laptop screen down so he finally stops reading your writing. “Shut up, and do something,” you demand while glaring up at him from the mattress. Dex looks at the closed laptop before he grabs it off the sheets. He leaves his spot on the bed to place the device safely on the floor. “You want me to take your clothes off?” he asks as he turns back around to face you. He sounds almost surprised by your unexpected change in attitude. “Why don’t you do it yourself?” you challenge him before you scoot right to the edge of the mattress. You lift both of your arms in the air and wait for him to make a move. He lets out a short chuckle while looking down at your raised arms.
“Are you really going to make me work for it?” he questions before he takes a step closer to your legs. You know he wants you, so you make him prove it. He clearly enjoys the new challenge. “Is it too hard for you to just do it?” you ask sarcastically while holding your arms up high. Dex scoffs at your attitude before his hands grip the bottom hem of your top. He pulls the fabric over your head and then tosses it somewhere across the dark room. It feels absurd to ask the guy who stalks you to undress you, yet you don’t even try to cover up. You aren’t wearing a bra since you just woke up from catching him staring at you earlier, so your breasts are exposed to him. He looks at your chest before he instinctively reaches a hand out to touch you.
You lean away from him so his fingers grasp nothing but air. You drop your hands down to his belt, but you stop trying to undo the buckle when he tries to touch you again. “Fuck- sorry,” Dex mutters while he pulls his hand back fast. He clearly didn’t expect you to avoid his touch so fast. “I just wanted a feel,” he tries to explain himself while looking down at your exposed body. He sounds a little desperate as he looks you over. You can see how much your body distracts him right now. “They look really good,” he adds while his attention refuses to leave your chest. You roll your eyes at his pathetic excuse before you grab the front of his pants. You pull him closer by the waistband so he stands right between your parted knees.
“I know I look good,” you reply with a scoff as your fingers struggle with his belt. You enjoy watching him lose his composure. He usually takes whatever he wants, but right now he just stands there with his hands at his sides. “That’s why you stalked my apartment,” you point out before you go back to working on his zipper. Dex watches you fumble with his pants before he grabs the bottom of his own shirt to pull it over his head. “Yeah, maybe you’re just a stupid good-looking girl who is about to get into bed with her stalker,” he argues back as he throws his shirt onto the floor. He watches you take way too much time trying to unbutton his pants. He eventually slaps your hands away so he can do it himself.
“Let me do it,” he mutters before he quickly undoes the belt and shoves his jeans down his legs. He steps heavily out of the denim without bothering to take off his boots and kicks the fabric aside while he leaves his boxers in place. You just sit there on the edge of the bed and stare up at his body. He actually looks incredibly good standing there in front of you. You wonder why a guy like him would ever choose to be a stalker. He could easily find a normal girl to fuck him instead of breaking into apartments at night. It’s a very stupid idea to sit here half-undressed, but your gut tells you he isn’t going to hurt you. You never planned to let things go this far tonight, but your thoughts scatter when his hands grab the waistband of your sleep shorts along with your panties.
“You’re staring at me,” Dex points out as his thumbs slip under the elastic band. You look up at his face to find him watching you. The corners of his mouth turn upward into a smirk. “No- I’m not,” you lie while shaking your head to make up a random excuse. Your face heats up because he caught you checking him out. “I was just thinking about something else,” you add while trying to look away from his stomach. Dex makes a sound of agreement before he nods like he believes your lie. “I want to take these off,” he tells you while his thumbs hook under the elastic. You give him a small nod, and he starts sliding the fabric down. You lift your hips off the bed to help him push the clothes past your waist. Dex takes a step backward between your knees as he drags the shorts and panties down to your ankles.
He grabs the garments before tossing them somewhere across the bedroom. He holds your knees and pushes your thighs apart to get a better look at you. He takes a breath while his eyes stare directly between your legs. He licks his lips like he is hungry for what he sees. “I honestly don’t know what to do first,” Dex admits while his hands rest firmly on your knees. He traces his thumbs over your kneecaps. “I don’t know if I want to use my mouth or just-” He cuts himself off while looking back up at your face. His eyes trail downward when you try to close your legs, but he firmly prevents you from moving. “You’d better figure it out fast before I change my mind,” you scoff at him while shifting slightly on the mattress.
You feel vulnerable, but you refuse to let him know it bothers you. “I might just kick you out then file a restraining order,” you warn him with a small chuckle. Dex shakes his head right away while his hands slide up your thighs. “There’s no need to do that,” he replies as he steps closer to your open legs. You cross your arms over your chest when another thought crosses your mind. “Do you even have a condom?” you ask him since you expect some basic protection. Dex stops moving entirely as a confused look takes over his face. “What?” he questions before leaning forward until his mouth hovers right next to your ear. He wants to make sure you hear him clearly. You feel his chest brush against your crossed arms.
“I’m not using a condom with you,” he whispers right next to your ear. He sounds offended that you even asked. “I want to feel every part of you,” he adds while you feel his warm breath brush over your neck. You lean your head back to give him an annoyed look. “What if you aren’t clean?” you ask him while dropping your arms to rest your hands on the mattress. You take something to prevent pregnancy, but you worry about everything else. “I don’t want to catch anything,” you tell him directly as you glare up at his face. Dex looks offended by your assumption. He lets go of your thighs and places his hands firmly on your hips instead. “Do you seriously think I have time to sleep around with anyone else?” he asks with an insulted tone.
He glares back at you to show how much the question bothers him. He wants you to realize how devoted he is. “I don’t even look in another woman’s direction,” he defends himself while his fingers dig into your waist. He hates the idea of you picturing him with another girl. “You’re the only person I want,” he reminds you as he uses his hands to drag your hips against his thighs. You roll your eyes at his words before you look him up and down. You notice he is wearing his shoes even though he is standing there in nothing but his underwear. You let out a small chuckle while looking back up at his face. “You want to do all these things to me, but you have your shoes on?” you ask him with a teasing tone. You point out how funny he looks standing in your bedroom with his shoes on.
“Are you really going to fuck me in just your boxers and your shoes?” you add to mock him a little more. Dex looks down at his feet before he lets out a short scoff. “I didn’t even realize,” he admits as he steps back from your knees. He bends down to remove his boots before he kicks them across the floor. He stands back up to face you again. You reach forward to grab the elastic waistband of his boxers. You use the fabric to pull him right back between your parted knees. You drag the material down just enough so you can see the base of his cock. You want to see if he understands the clear hint you are giving him. Dex watches your hands for a second before his own fingers take over the job. He shoves your hands away so he can strip the underwear off.
He kicks the fabric aside until he stands naked in front of you. You stare at his hard cock while he steps even closer to the mattress. He doesn’t give you any time to speak before his hands grab your shoulders. Dex pushes you backward so you lie down on the mattress. You were sitting right on the edge, so your legs ended up dangling off the bed. He steps into the open space between your thighs. Your legs naturally fall to rest against his sides while he stands over you. He takes up all the space right between your parted knees as he looks down at your exposed body. “You look so fucking good like this,” he tells you while checking your reaction. He watches your chest rise and fall before his eyes drop lower to get a perfect view of your cunt.
Dex brings one hand up to gently touch your thigh. His fingers trail slowly up your leg before moving across your stomach. He continues the path upward to drag his hand over your breast. You wonder if he can feel your racing heartbeat under his palm. His hand feels incredibly hot against your body. You take a deep breath when his fingers travel up your shoulder to caress your neck. You watch his eyes track every single movement of his hand over your chest. It makes your stomach drop because he looks captivated by you. You want to ask him to hurry up, but your throat feels dry. He finally cups your cheek while his thumb rubs right over your cheekbone. His other hand reaches down to wrap firmly around his cock.
He guides the head right against your wet folds to coat himself in your slick. He rubs his length back and forth across your wet cunt. “Fuck- feels nice,” Dex mutters out as he feels the dampness between your legs. He pushes the broad tip right against your cunt to tease you a little more. You lift your hips upward because you desperately want him inside. “Nngh- j-just- put it in,” you whine back while your hands grab the bedsheets tightly. Dex pushes the head of his cock inside you while his hand caresses your cheek. His thumb brushes your face as he slowly slides deeper. He thrusts into your cunt very carefully, like he fears he might hurt you. You lie directly against the mattress without any pillows beneath your head.
He finally pushes all the way in before he closes his eyes. “Shit,” he grunts as he buries himself deep inside your body. Your toes curl when his thick cock fills you out. You bend your knees to wrap your legs securely around his waist. He drops his free hand down to hold your hip firmly. Dex slowly slides out and then pushes right back into your cunt. He watches your chest bounce every time he moves inside you. “You look so good taking me,” he tells you while staring down at your body. “Ah- hah- just go deeper,” you whine, but he refuses to thrust faster. He wants to watch your body react so he doesn’t speed up at all. He takes his time sliding in and out of your wet folds. You reach up with one hand to hold the wrist he has near your face.
Your other hand drops down to rest directly over your stomach. You grind your hips upward right when he pushes deep inside you. “Nngh- such a loser,” you insult him while pushing back against his cock. You clench your cunt tightly around him. “Mmph- yeah?” Dex questions as his jaw clenches. You can tell your degrading words affect him more than he wants to admit. You squeeze your cunt around him again just to mess with his head. His nails dig right into your hip. Dex moves his hand away from your cheek so he can reach the back of your head. He tangles his fingers into your hair to hold your head down on the mattress. “But you love having this loser inside you,” he reminds you while his hand tightens on your hair.
The look in his eyes proves he dropped the gentle act. “Hngh- god-” you gasp out when he thrusts much harder into your cunt. He stops worrying about hurting you and just starts fucking you how he wants to. You scratch your nails across his wrist to stop him from going so deep. “Nn- don’t do it so hard,” you complain while your heels plant firmly against his back. Dex hums in agreement to trick you, but he immediately does the exact opposite. He pulls his cock out until only the tip rests inside your cunt before he thrusts his entire length back inside you. He knows he acts like an asshole right now, yet he refuses to stop. His fingers tangle more firmly through your hair because he just needs something to hold onto while he fucks you.
“Mm- s-stop being so rough,” you gasp out as your eyes roll back. Dex ignores your demand since he likes feeling your cunt clench around him. He moves his hand away from your hip so he can reach up to grope your breast. He thinks about how long he waited to finally touch you. Having you right here feels better than he ever imagined. He pinches your nipple right between his fingers to make you squirm under him. Dex feels satisfied as he finally touches the person he stalked for months. He knows he crossed every boundary to get here, but he honestly doesn’t regret a single thing. He used only to watch you walk around this bedroom through the hidden cameras he planted behind your furniture.
Now he gets to see everything right in front of his own eyes while he pushes his cock in and out of your cunt. Having you respond to him is what he wanted. “Fucking creep- ahhn- you’re so messed up,” you degrade him while your other hand rests directly over your stomach. Dex knows you only say those insults because you feel stupid for sleeping with your stalker. “You think I care what you call me when you wrap your legs around me like this?” Dex asks while he feels your toes curl against his lower back. He knows you are conflicted about this situation, but your body tells him what you actually want. You part your mouth to gasp when he hits that specific spot deep inside you. He knows what kind of pace gets you going.
The degrading names you use only make him want to go harder. Your nails naturally dig harder into his arm the deeper he goes. “Hah- shut up- mmph!” you whine back while scratching your fingers over your stomach. He chuckles at your pathetic attempt to insult him because your moans give you away. The way you react to him actually mesmerizes him enough to make him slow his pace down. Slowing his pace gives him time to take in every detail of your face, as he wants to memorize how you look when he takes you. Seeing you take him so well satisfies him even while he thinks it is funny how you try to act tough. You notice his head tilting downward to watch his cock slide in and out of your entrance.
He wonders if you enjoy looking at the sight of your bodies moving together just as much as he does. You see his eyes move from your stomach right back up to your chest. He thinks you look perfect like this and wants to burn this exact image into his memory. Staring openly at the breast he gropes makes him consider using his mouth on you instead before he watches your other breast bounce with every single movement he makes. Knowing he has your full attention pleases him because he genuinely enjoys making you feel so flustered. You notice him looking right at your face next, yet you fail to figure out what goes on inside his head. “Nngh- what are you looking at?” you ask because his constant staring bothers you.
You hate how he always studies you without explaining himself. You want him to speak up instead of being so quiet. Dex ignores your question and stops moving his cock inside you. He keeps staring right into your eyes while he slides his hands from the back of your head to your shoulders. He pulls you up from the mattress until you sit upright on the edge of the bed. Your legs are already wrapped around his waist while you naturally reach out to grab his shoulders for balance. “Hold onto me,” Dex commands before he slides his hands down your sides. He places his hands on your waist to hold you in place. He starts pushing his cock in and out of your cunt again. You hold his shoulders tightly so you don’t fall backward while he fucks you.
“Nngh- why can’t we just do it in one position?” you complain about him moving you around too much. Dex ignores your whining before he leans forward to bury his face into your neck. He lets his mouth touch your collarbone while his hands hold your waist firmly. He pushes his cock deep into your cunt as he brings his lips right next to your ear. “I just want to create every position you wrote,” Dex whispers directly into your ear while he shoves his cock inside you. Your cunt squeezes tight around his cock right after he says those words. Hearing his plan brings a rush of pleasure to your body. You think about what position comes next to fucking you while sitting like this. You wonder if he plans to flip you over the bed to fuck you on your stomach.
Dex bites down on your shoulder before he grunts against your neck to hide a whimper. He pulls his cock almost all the way out before shoving it back in. He likes the way your body responds to his twisted ideas. “Do you like that?” Dex asks as he feels your cunt clench around him. He wants to know if you enjoy the idea of having him in all those different positions. “Hah- s-shut- fuck-” you gasp out while your back arches. You hate how his crazy obsession actually turns you on. He chuckles softly at your denial because your actions contradict your words. He lets you dig your nails into his shoulder while his hands squeeze your waist tighter. Dex kisses your collarbone while he shoves his cock inside you.
He gets too caught up in the pleasure to filter his thoughts. He loves having you right here instead of just watching you through a monitor. “Mhm... You look so much better than the scre-” Dex stutters against your neck before he forces his mouth shut. He almost exposed the hidden cameras he planted around your home. He bites his bottom lip to stop himself from ruining the moment with a stupid mistake. You place both hands on his chest to shove him away from your neck so you can look at his face. “Ahhn- what were you going to say?” you ask while narrowing your eyes at him. You know he hides things from you. Dex slows his movements down so he can think of a lie while his hands caress your waist.
“Come on- it’s nothing,” Dex replies as he gives you a sloppy excuse to brush off your question. “I just meant you look better than I imagined,” he adds to cover his tracks. You want to question him more, but he refuses to give you the chance to speak. Dex leans forward again to bury his face against your chest this time. He takes your nipple into his mouth to suck on it hard. “Hah- wait-” you gasp out as his teeth bite down. He takes one hand off your ribs to slide it down between your bodies. He finds your clit before he starts rubbing it with his thumb. He uses it to his advantage to make you forget what he just said to you. Your hands move up from his chest to grab his hair while he works your clit.
He rubs his thumb over the sensitive spot as he continues moving in and out of your cunt. “Oh god- nngh- right there,” you whine out while your hips buck upward against his hand. Dex swirls his tongue over your nipple before he grazes his teeth over the tip. He moves his mouth away about an inch to kiss your breast before he goes right back to sucking hard on the peak. He thinks about how long he craved this exact taste while the soft whimpers you make only encourage him to bite down harder. He wants to leave a mark you will feel for days. Dex moves his face over to give the other side the same attention. You grip his hair firmly before you lean your head down to nuzzle your face right into his sweaty hair. “Mm- you really like it there,” you whisper while your hips buck up against his hand.
He feels right at home against your body, and having your hands all over him feels better than anything else. He knows he would never change a single thing if he could go back to the moment he first saw you at the supermarket. His therapist used to tell him his moral compass was never broken, but he just needed someone to guide him. He realizes now you are that person, but he never expected things to get this far. He was only supposed to watch you from a distance without making contact, and he never wanted you to find out he was stalking you. You were just too smart for him to hide from you. You played a clever game to expose him, and he fell right into it. His thumb slows down over your clit because he gets distracted by your breast.
He wonders if you notice how easily you affect everything he does, even with the way you arch into his touch. You can feel his cock twitching deep inside your cunt, and the feeling makes your breath hitch. The bed creaks loudly underneath you every time he shoves his cock in and out of you. “Ahhn- right there- fuck-” you moan out as the heat builds up between your bodies, and sweat drips down your chest. Everything he does pushes you closer to your limit, especially with how he moves fast before he goes slow. Dex grunts from the sensation while he continues to use his thumb to circle and rub your clit. It makes your toes curl while you struggle to catch your breath. “Hah- god- right there-” you whine while your cunt squeezes around his cock. Your nails dig into his scalp as the pleasure builds up because you want him to push you over the edge instead of just teasing you.
He sucks harder on your nipple, and you tilt your head back when his cock finds your g-spot. “Hah- god- I’m getting so close,” you pant out while your hips buck upward. Dex finally moves his mouth away from your breast so he can watch your reaction. You bury your face right into his chest because you refuse to let him look at you. You turn into a moaning mess against him as the pleasure brings you right to the edge. He hates it whenever you try to hide from him when he wants to see every single expression you make. “Nn- please,” you whine directly against his collarbone. He loves hearing you beg for him. He removes his hand from your clit before he uses that same hand to push your body away from his chest.
He pushes you back just enough to see your face properly. “Stop hiding from me,” Dex commands as he forces you to look at him. His hand moves up to the back of your head to tilt it backward while his other hand slides from your waist down to your hip. He enjoys the feeling of holding you in place while he fucks you when you look exactly how he always pictured you. You can’t help but part your mouth when you moan before you close your eyes, and you can feel your clit pulsing without his touch. Your cunt clenches around his cock while he watches your expression carefully before a smirk forms on his lips. He knows how to push you over the edge, and he loves knowing he causes this kind of reaction in you.
He leans down a little closer to your face to spit right into your open mouth. “Mm- hah-” you gasp out in surprise as the spit lands on your tongue. You open your eyes in surprise since you never expected him to do something like that. Your face heats up with embarrassment even though you actually enjoy what he did. His spit inside your mouth makes your cunt clench hard around his cock to the point he slows his pace down before he stops moving his hips entirely when you start cumming. His cock throbs inside you, and you tremble against him. He holds your hair and your hip firmly to brace himself. Dex closes his eyes while his mouth parts, but he quickly bites down on the inside of his cheek to stop himself from being too loud. “Ahhhnn- fuck- Dex-” you whine out as you finish around his cock.
“I know,” Dex whispers while his hand moves to caress your back. He takes his hands off your hip and head before he unwraps your legs from his waist. He steps back to slide his cock out of your body. He wonders if you have any idea how much he loves the mess he makes out of you. He watches how puffy your cunt looks right after you finish, and he stares at how your clit pulses while your cum trails down your skin. You feel glad he backed away because your chest heaves as you catch your breath. You suddenly remember he hasn’t cum yet, but he grabs your arms before you can bring it up to force you to stand up. He turns you around to face the bed before he pushes you down onto your stomach. You react quickly by crawling forward until you get on all fours so your legs finally make it onto the mattress.
“Hah- what are you doing?” you complain while he climbs onto the bed right behind you. You hate how he always catches you off guard. His unpredictable behavior frustrates you to no end. “Shh- I told you we’d do another position from what you wrote,” Dex replies as he places a pillow under your stomach. He grabs a second pillow to put it directly beneath your face. You look over your shoulder with a pissed expression, but you look forward to what he plans to do next. “I haven’t cum, yet,” Dex states while his hand finds its way to your hip. His other hand reaches down to guide his cock right against your cunt. He easily slides inside you because you are so slippery from your own cum. “You don’t want to give me blue balls, right?” he asks while looking down at your back. His tone sounds more like a warning than a genuine question. He knows how much you crave his attention.
“Nngh- wait- I’m too s-sensi-” you try to say before his actions cut your words off. He shoves all the way in without any warning while his guiding hand moves up to hold your waist. “Ahhn- I just came- Dex,” you whine out while trying to adjust to his size. Your words tick him off enough to make him drag his cock out to the tip before he slams back in whole. “Well, I didn’t,” Dex grunts while he hits you deep inside. You stop looking over your shoulder to let your face hover inches above the pillow. You don’t care if your eyes close or if your mouth hangs open while he fucks you relentlessly. “I know I could finish in your mouth,” Dex says as he continues thrusting behind you.
Your hands grip the bedsheets while your toes curl against the mattress. “Mmph- then why didn’t you?” you ask him between breaths.
Dex shoves his cock deeper into your cunt before he leans his chest over your back. He uses his body weight to push your torso down against the stomach pillow. “There is nothing comparable to this,” he answers while he fucks you harder. You know he plans to take a lot more from you until you tire out. You aren’t against the idea because you actually look forward to it. Experiencing this kind of thing usually only happens when you read other people’s writing or your own stories. You never expected you’d end up getting fucked in so many different ways tonight. It feels like a win since it all happens right here in your bed. Your body manages to take every inch of him while the deep friction makes you gasp into the sheets.
His weight presses heavily against your back. The firm pressure holds you down and securely pins you to the mattress. Your face rests against the top pillow while your stomach pushes into the second one as his cock goes in and out of you. “Mmmff- hah- oh god-” your moans get muffled into the sheets from the way his body pins you down. Dex places one hand on your hip while his other hand reaches around to grab your side. You hear the loud sound of flesh slapping together whenever he thrusts his hips forward. You can also feel his balls hitting against your ass with every single movement he makes. It feels degrading to take him like this, but the sensation of his cock sliding over your cunt only turns you on more.
You find it embarrassing to admit how much you enjoy every dirty thing he does to you. “God, you feel amazing,” Dex grunts while he buries himself as deep as he can go. He knows how to use his heavy pressure to get the hardest reactions out of you. He leans his head down so his lips brush right against your shoulder blade. Dex eventually gets careless, and he realizes that the moment he opens his mouth to brag about what he saw on his monitors. “That guy from last month couldn’t even hit your spot like I do when he f-fucked you-” Dex stutters before he forces himself to shut up. He realizes he almost exposed his hidden cameras again, so he punishes himself for his sloppy mistake by biting down hard on your back.
“Ahhn- god- right there,” you whine out as the feeling of his teeth makes your cunt squeeze around his cock. Dex loves the way your cunt takes him, so he just lets himself continue fucking you into the mattress while he leaves bite marks all over your shoulder. You don’t even care about his confession because you are too exhausted to process what he says. He gives you back a few more bites before he stops leaning his weight over you. He raises himself to kneel right behind you. He grabs your hips to pull them higher so your lower back arches while your ass sticks up in the air. He raises his hand up before he slaps your ass roughly. The loud smack of flesh echoes through the room right before his fingers dig firmly back into your hip.
“Mm! Y-yes,” you gasp out while your nails scratch at the bedsheets. Dex groans loud enough for you to hear as he matches his fast pace with your needy sounds. He knows he can last for hours since he waited so long for this exact moment. Dex moves his free hand to your ass to squeeze it. Your chest rests against the bed while the side of your face lies on the pillow. You try to push your upper body off the mattress to get on all fours again. Your arms shake instantly when you try to lift your weight up. You feel too weak to hold yourself up, so you fall right back down to where you started. Dex chuckles loudly at your pathetic attempt to move. “Aww, poor girl can’t even support her own weight,” he mocks you while rubbing his hand over your ass cheek.
You let out a frustrated huff into the pillow since you hate it when he makes fun of you. He slides his hand under your stomach to help you out. “Bring yourself up,” Dex commands as he lifts your torso away from the bed. You try again with his help until you manage to get on your knees. He moves you all the way back so your back rests directly against his chest. He wraps his arm securely around your waist to hold you upright. You reach your hands out to hold onto his forearm for balance. “Good girl,” Dex praises you awkwardly because he never usually says things like that. He pushes his cock into your cunt to test how this new position feels. “Does this feel okay for you?” Dex asks while he thrusts his hips slowly behind you.
You want to adjust a little bit so you look towards the top of the bed. “Mm- let’s move closer to the headboard,” you suggest while leaning back against him. He nods before he takes his cock out of your cunt. He uses his free hand to remove your fingers from his arm. He guides you forward, so you both scoot across the mattress on your knees. It only takes a few short movements until your hands find their way to the headboard. You lean forward to rest your chest against the pillows stacked against the wood. Dex whistles at the sight of you bent over the headboard. He loves how you arch your back for him to fuck.
He raises his hand to slap your ass hard enough to leave a loud smack in the room. “Ah!- Dex,” you yelp out while your fingers curl around it. He grabs your hips firmly before he slides his cock right back inside your cunt. He starts thrusting deep into you again while you adjust to his size. “Too many interruptions tonight,” Dex whispers right near your ear as if he wants to taunt you. He knows he causes all the delays, but he loves acting like an asshole to annoy you. You clench your cunt tight around his cock on purpose to stop him from thrusting. You hate his arrogant attitude right now. “Ahhn- so are you telling me I’m an interruption?” you ask while looking over your shoulder to glare at him. The way your cunt squeezes makes it hard for him to move his hips.
“Fuck- wait- ngh,” Dex groans behind you as the tight squeeze makes his cock throb deep inside you. He easily folds because he knows he needs to play nice with you. You are literally offering him what he wants tonight. Anyone else would have pulled the trigger of that gun you held against his forehead earlier. He knows he is lucky you decided to fuck him instead of shooting him. He struggles to catch his breath while his cock pulses inside you. He hates losing control, but he hates the idea of you stopping even more. He doesn’t know how to process his emotions properly, so he struggles to find the right words to say. “I’m sorry- just stop doing that,” Dex whispers awkwardly while his fingers squeeze your hips.
He never apologizes to anyone, but he acts desperate to continue fucking you. “Nngh- please let me move,” he begs you while resting his forehead against your back. He tries to convince you to stop squeezing so he can reach his orgasm. He knows he sounds pathetic, but he only wishes that you would let him have it his way. You listen to his clumsy apology for a moment before you stop clenching his cock purposely. You grind your ass back against him to let him know he earned your mercy. You push your body directly into his crotch to make him take the hint. “Mm- you better behave then,” you warn him as you let him slide all the way in. Dex takes a deep breath before he starts moving his hips slowly behind you.
His hands squeeze your hips to balance you against the headboard. “Fuck- you feel so good,” Dex grunts out while he pushes deep into your cunt. The slow pace feels amazing as he hits every sensitive spot inside you. You let your eyes close while your fingers wrap securely around the wood. He eventually speeds up his thrusts once he realizes you aren’t going to stop him again. He slides his cock almost out before he shoves it back inside your cunt. “Ahhhnn- right there,” you moan loudly into the pillows while your back arches for him. Dex watches the way your spine curves while he fucks you from behind. He loves the way your body responds to everything he does. “God- you take it so well,” he groans out while his thumbs rub over your hip.
He makes sure to hit your g-spot with every single thrust so you forget about his cocky words. You bite your bottom lip to stop yourself from being too loud in the room. He just continues fucking you until your legs start trembling against the mattress. Dex closes his eyes while his hips move in a careless manner behind you. He pushes his cock deep into your cunt before he grinds his hips against your ass. He pulls out to the tip to take a few seconds to breathe. He shoves back inside you when you expect it the least. “Fuck- you take me so perfectly,” Dex whispers out while he forces himself inside you. He doesn’t know the exact right words to say, but he wants to give you a genuine compliment. “You are so good to me,” he grunts as he slides against your g-spot with every thrust.
He stops moving for a few seconds every time he buries his cock deep inside your body. You grind your ass back against him to help him out because you want him to continue. “Hah- don’t stop- nn,” you whine out to urge him forward. Dex feels the way you push back against him while his cock pulses inside your cunt. He connects your needy movements to how close you are to another orgasm. He loves seeing you get so desperate for his cock when you’re right on the edge. You look over your shoulder to see what he does behind you. You find his head tilted back as he shuts his eyes tightly. You actually think he looks gorgeous like this even though you hate admitting it. You let go of the headboard with your right hand so you can reach backward.
You try to find his arm while he starts thrusting his hips again. Your fingers brush against his forearm to get his attention. “Mm- Dex,” you gasp out while your hand slides down his wrist. Dex opens his eyes the moment he feels your fingers touch his arm. He leans closer to your back so he can place his hand right beside yours. He easily intertwines his fingers with yours before he brings your hand forward to secure it against the headboard. “Shit- wait,” Dex curses loudly because that simple touch pushes him right over the edge. He thrusts his hips much faster while he fucks you without any mercy. “Fuck- I’m going to-” he whispers directly against your ear as his pace gets rougher. You feel his cock burying deep inside you every time he thrusts his hips forward.
You realize you can’t hold back your own orgasm when he moves this fast. “Ah!- y-yes- fuck,” you stutter out while you brace yourself against the wood. Dex shoves into you a few more times before he finishes deep inside your cunt. “God-” he grunts out as he unloads his cum right into you. Your body reacts to his climax like a switch flips in your brain to make your walls squeeze tight around his cock. You feel sensitive from the overstimulation, while the warm feeling of being filled makes you melt into the mattress. It feels stupid to let him finish inside you, but you refuse to stop him since it feels too good. He moves his chest away from your back to stand up straight on his knees before he lets go of your hand to hold your hip.
Both of his hands grab your hips to hold you in place while he slowly thrusts back inside you. He watches the way both of your cum coats his cock with every slow movement to see the mess he made. He never misses anyway, so seeing his load deep inside your cunt makes him feel proud. He loves watching how messy he left you tonight. Dex looks down at your body to check on you while his hips push forward. You are slumped against the stacked pillows with your arms hugging them tightly. Your ass arches up in the air for him, but your face buries into the fabric. “How do you feel?” Dex asks you while he rubs his thumbs over your hip bones. You feel too exhausted to form a proper sentence, so you shake your head at his question.
He raises his eyebrow at your silent response before he decides to ask you again. “Are you going to answer me?” he asks as he slowly drags his cock out of your body. You let out a long breath when you feel him leave your cunt empty. “Tired,” you mumble into the pillows. He chuckles at your honest answer because he knows he wore you out tonight. Dex looks over at the clock on your nightstand before he moves away from your back. He crawls up the mattress to sit right beside your head so he can lean back against the headboard. “Lie down flat,” Dex tells you while he helps guide your body onto your stomach. You follow his instructions so you can rest your body while hugging the pillow under your face.
He puts his hand right on your lower back to caress you slowly. He feels the sweat under his palm from how hard you worked tonight. You have your arms wrapped tight around the soft fabric because you feel exhausted. “Mm- it feels so late,” you whine into the pillow even though you never checked the time. Dex agrees with you before he moves his hand up from your back to reach your head. He gently caresses your head to comfort you. “It’s 4:23 in the morning,” he casually tells you while he continues petting you. You have no idea how long you actually had sex with him tonight. It feels like a lifetime has passed since he first pinned you to the mattress. You don’t even know what time you originally woke up to find him watching you sleep.
He probably stood in the dark corner for hours before he made his presence known. The terrifying thought should bother you, but his gentle touches make you feel stupidly safe instead. You realize you have no clue how long he has actually been inside your house. You adjust your head so you can turn your face towards his direction. Your cheek rests against the pillow now so you aren’t hiding your face from him anymore. You look up at him while he sits there looking comfortable in your bed. “You look like you plan to stick around,” you point out sarcastically as you narrow your eyes at him. He acts like he owns the place right after he finishes fucking you. He looks way too relaxed for a guy who broke in just a few hours ago.
You hate how easy he makes this look. Dex scoffs at your comment before he takes his hand away from your head. He reaches down to slap your ass hard to punish your attitude. “Ah!- hey,” you gasp out while he squeezes your ass cheek right after he slaps you. You glare at him because he acts so smug about having you right where he wants you. He clearly enjoys seeing how irritated you get when he treats you like his property. “Yeah, well, maybe I will just move in here,” Dex jokes back, but he actually means every single word. You probably assume he will leave when the sun comes up, but here he is, thinking about how easy it would be to watch you up close if he lived with you. He knows it will be so simple to insert himself into your life now that you have just had sex with him. He smirks down at your tired body and has no idea that he thinks about never letting you go.
Ex-boyfriend!Dex... Who does not know the actual truth. You had kept Dex safe by faking your death and pretending to not recognize him. Dex's life was in danger, so you went to Matt for help. However, inside, Matt doesn't like or trust Dex; he's purposely keeping you away from him.
Ex-boyfriend!Dex... Who sees you with Matt, living at his place. He feels all types of emotions; he's jealous that Matt gets to experience the things he did. He keeps assuming worse things instead of actually getting to know the truth. In reality, Matt is a friend, and he owes you a favor.
Ex-boyfriend!Dex... Who does not give up on you. He is trying to unfold everything; he does not know why you are not recognizing him. It breaks his heart; he often goes to the bar and drinks in sorrow. Every night he lies on the roof with a gift you had given him, crying and remembering you. Dex has never cried for anyone before.
Ex-boyfriend!Dex... Who does not trust Matt. He knows something is up. Even you are getting mad at Matt for thinking Dex is a danger. Matt doesn't understand what you see in him. He gets jealous seeing you love Dex when all he ever wanted was for you to love him.
Ex-boyfriend!Dex... Who has a bad feeling about Matt. He feels that Matt has something to do with everything that happened. He is sure that Matt has bad intentions with you. He remembered, before he would always come in between you and Dex.
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Summary: Matt comes home after being concussed on the job with the assumption that you're a heavenly angel who has come to save him.
Warnings/Tags: I am not religious so please let me know if any of this is atrociously inaccurate, mentions of blood, head injuries
A mumbled prayer roused you from your sleep.
"—my guardian dear, to whom God's love commits me here—"
You shifted, lulling your craned neck forward until your chin rested on your exposed collarbone. The entirety of your lower body felt stiff, and your face contorted in a wince as a resounding crack stemmed up the entirety of your back when you shifted. Goosebumps erupted across your skin as a breeze brushed past your bare body, and you fisted the blanket messily draped over your half-naked figure.
"—ever this day at my side—" the voice plead. Your eyes twitched, and your vision was whittled with the haze of exhaustion as your eyelids audibly hinged with every weary blink.
The red trail staining the white carpet caught your attention first, spattering the floor from the wide-open window all the way to the dark puddling surrounding the dark figure knelt between where your spread legs hung over the edge of the living room couch.
You managed to slowly sit up from your place within the couch cushions, tired eyes tracing the harsh, tattered edges of what was left of the familiar mask barely enveloping his head.
"Matt," you whispered, watching his entire face twitch as he sniffled, and the hands intertwined over his mouth quickly moved to wipe the fresh string of blood which fell from his nose. "Jesus Christ."
"—to light and to guard," he forced himself to go on, clasping his fingers back together over his stained, split lips.
"Matt," you repeated, feeling unsolicited tears well in your eyes as you frantically looked over the rest of him. "Matt, what the hell happened?"
"—to rule and guide," he rasped, chest heaving at the finale. Words failed as your stunned silence followed the prayer of admiration only for the painful squeak of what was left of his leather suit to break it as he slowly and painfully tipped his head back, revealing the true mess of his bloody face. He parted his bright red lips, the mess splattering his teeth resembling crimson paint under the harsh, advertising lighting. He let out a shaky exhale. "Amen."
His blood-pasted lashes fluttered, and his blow wide pupils lazily rolled to look down the length of his face in your vague direction.
You opened your mouth to say something—anything, but you found yourself at a loss of words as you followed the gloveless hand he raised. The crimson tips of his fingers ghosted the apple of your cheek, and his unseeing eyes fluttered.
"You don't need to tell me," he murmured, cracked lips unmoving. "I know what you are."
"Matt," was all you could manage to say.
"I thank God for sending one of his messengers," he mumbled, still scared to touch you as his torn hand traced the outline of your shoulders, "to lead me away from where I have strayed."
"Mathew," you said, finding your voice. His contorted expression beneath what was left of his mask twitched your warm exhale as you leaned forward. Afraid of touching an injury, you tentatively skimmed your fingers along the sticky skin of his jaw, and his neck craned to follow the sensation of your ghostly touch. You met his foggy eyes. "You need to tell me where you're hurt, Matt."
"I thank Him," he mumbled wetly, his blink slow as his fingers brushed the thin strap of your sleepwear, "for sending someone to save me."
You quickly cupped the nape of his neck as his head threatened to fall back, and you felt the lump in your throat swell as you flexed your fingers through the sticky liquid coating the edges of his matted hairline. Withdrawing the offending hand, the thick coating of crimson had your vision wavering.
"Jesus," you whispered, insisting his head up enough to meet his wavering eye level. "Were you hit in the head, Matt?"
"You're here to..." he tried, but trailed off as his eyes rolled back to follow his mask as you slowly removed his tattered helmet, "...to save me right?"
Your entire face contorted, and you rolled your lips to stop yourself from making a sound as the extent of his injuries laid bare before you; the hollows of his unknowing eyes were dark and swollen, the bridge of his nose sharply twisted and broken. A deep cut you hadn't seen before extended from his hairline down to the crease of his brow, and what appeared to be the sighting of a bullet grazing at the edge of his jaw had blood still cascading down the side of his neck.
You inhaled slowly, doing your best to smother any audible shakiness.
"What am I saving you from, Matthew?"
He blinked, plush lips parting further.
"Save me," he wept, "from the devil inside 'me."
His swallow looked painful, and his chest shook out of desperation for air as he hung his head in your hands. Twin tears spilled down the raised texture of his cheeks, their trails red as they cleaned his marred skin.
You worded an apology before reaching forward and gathering him into your arms. A shocked sob rattled the entirety of his body as he quickly wrapped his arms around your body, burrowing his red face into your chest and desperately pawing your back for leverage as you cradled his hurting head.
"I will save you, Matthew," you murmured into his hairline. You cautiously carded your fingers through his tousled hair and hummed when you eventually found the origin of his delirious speech; a rather large, raised gash cut across his scalp, the angry, red crescent gouged into the side of his head.
He nuzzled his nose into your shirt, and you felt the warmth of his blood seep into the fabric as his arms tightened around you. Gently, you swept the hair from his forehead and managed to find a healthy patch of skin to plant a reassuring kiss against. "I will keep you safe, I promise."
"Thank you," he cried into you. "Thank you, God. Thank you."