#daredeviloneshot

The threat has anger coiling behind your ribs, your lip curling, teeth bared. You’d have snapped back at him if your windpipe wasn’t being crushed. Dex’s lips brush against the soft curve of your ear as he tries to catch his breath, and you try to wrench your head away from him, disgusted with yourself for having let this animal get close enough to you to have you in such a compromising position.

But Dex can feel your muscles tensing, your rigid stance beginning to shift as you struggled to control your breath. His grip was too tight, and he could feel you fighting to take in a deeper gulp of air. But if he let you go, you could scream, reveal his position, maybe even-

You jerked forward in his grip and Dex’s hand tightened in your hair, another warning.

“I’ll let you breathe if you promise not to scream,” His tone is mean, biting, as he forces your head back. Maybe it’s mocking, animalistic even, but he lets his canine graze the soft flesh of your ear, relishing in the way your body tenses. “You make a fuckin’ peep and I’ll snap your pretty little neck. Got it?”

There’s silence for a beat. Two beats, nearly three-

“Nod your god damn head if you understand me,” He snaps, though his voice is still a whisper. You nod, the smallest of movements in his vicelike grip. Dex shifts then, his grip loosening in your hair as his arm releases ever so slightly. Your throat is no longer pinned in the crook of his elbow and you take in a gulp of air, a ragged breath escaping you as your breathing levels out.

“There there,” His tone is condescending as he shifts his stance, turning so that he can grin at the top of your head. “That’s it.”

You’re still shaking in his grip, though the anger is now laced with fear. “What do you want, Dex?” Your tone is biting despite the circumstances that’s got you vibrating in your neighbor’s grip.

Dex is silent for a moment, seemingly mulling over what he’d like to say to you. “You weren’t supposed to find out about this,” He finally laments and you nearly scoff.

“That you were stalking me? No shit.” Dex’s grip around your throat tightens again and you hiss, eyes snapping shut. You should have stayed silent.

“Don’t be so-” He huffs before he’s stretching his neck, shoulders flexing like he’s trying to get comfortable. “Condescending, Y/N.” He sucks on his teeth, feet shifting as he taps a rhythm against your wrists. “This wasn’t supposed to happen this way.”

“You’re an asshole,” You wheeze, back arching as you try to crane your neck, desperate to be free from this lunatic’s grip. He only laughs behind you. It sounds dry, unamused, bored even.

“Maybe,” His lips are against your ear again. You hate the way goose bumps ripple across your skin. A breathy chuckle escapes him and his warm breath ghosts across the skin of your collar bones. It seems as if he’ll say more, but instead Dex stays silent, fingers flexing against your wrists like he’s deciding whether or not he’ll release you.

Ultimately, he decides to, thick bicep slowly straightening as he releases you from his vicelike chokehold. Your head tips forward, and you swallow, a dull ache now present in the muscles of your throat. You suck in a lungful of air, acutely aware of how tense Dex is behind you. He hasn’t released your wrists yet, instead allowing his free hand to drift across your shoulders as he mulls over what he should do next.

“Why me?” The words escape you before you’ve properly thought about how they could impact the obviously unwell man behind you.

Dex is silent. You try to crave your neck to see him, but his hand is suddenly gripping your jaw, forcing your gaze forward. You hiss, his grip bruising as he keeps you in place.

“Keep your gaze forward.”

You breathe hard through your gritted teeth, jaw flexing as you try to control the anger simmering beneath the surface. “You don’t have to manhandle me so much.”

Dex sucks his teeth again, index finger tapping a soft rhythm against the corner of your lip. “You’re feisty. Can’t chance it again.”

You almost smile, the memory of your fist connecting with his lip replaying in your mind. He clearly hadn’t anticipated you attacking first when he’d pushed the doors of your balcony open and walked in like he’d owned the place. How many times had he done that? He’d seemed too comfortable, too smooth. Was it only when you weren’t home? What about when you were sleeping?

Realizing Dex was stalking you had been…jarring, to say the least. You’d known for months that something was off in your every day life, and you’d only recently started to put your finger on it. A stalker. You’d started watching everyone in your life more closely, waiting for a slip up, anything. You hadn’t expected it to be Dex, or maybe you’d hoped it wouldn’t be. The calm, calculated, handsome man who lived in the apartment above you. FBI. It made sense, right? He had the skills, the experience, the motive. But Dex had been nice, you’d even considered him somewhat of a friend.

But rounding the corner and recognizing the way the man’s shoulder’s shifted when you’d caught someone in the reflection of the window of a storefront? It impressed Dex. You were smart, observant, and your intuition was almost alarming it was so accurate.

You’d surprised him. Even more so when you’d stared straight through him, eyes fixed on where his should have been in the reflection and said one simple word; his name.

His full name.

“Poindexter.”

It was firm, resolute, almost…eerie. He’d frozen, heart in his throat, how had you caught him?

But before he could move forward, explain himself, explain that he was just worried about you, just wanted to make sure his neighbor was safe, that she was cared for, you were gone.

You’d taken off in a sprint, purse tucked carefully under your arm, breath laboured.

Fuck.

Where were you supposed to go?

Home, you realized. Because where else? He knew everything about you, because not only was he stalking you, you had let him in. Trusted him. Considered him a friend.

But home? It had everything you needed. You could grab your things and then run. Going to the police would do nothing. He was FBI. You were positive he had tricks up his sleeve, he was Dex-he was smart.

How had you been so dumb? How had you not known it was Dex?

Somewhere deep within you whispered that you were being foolish. You had suspected Dex for weeks, maybe even known it was him, but had foolishly hoped that just this once, maybe you were wrong. Maybe he was just looking out for you. He was charming, friendly, skilled. You enjoyed his company. Why would you assume something so big that it could ruin the very nice thing you had going with your neighbor?

Well, that tended to fall apart when he 1) stalked you, and 2) you tried to knock him over with a chair.

Dex had landed in your apartment like a lynx-smooth, silent, quick.

And you’d slammed your kitchen chair into his chest like you were an MMA fighter.

The fight only escalated from there.

You were proud of the way you’d handled yourself, more rage than fear burning through you as you fought the greying blonde. You’d landed a few hits, teeth bared as you fought to simply knock him down and have him stay down long enough to run again.

But Dex was strong, and skilled. He’d tried at first to simply subdue you-he didn’t want to hurt you, he cared about you. You were smart, kind, you’d let him in and listen when he was struggling. But you were also landing hits and your strength surprised him.

Eventually, he’d had to knock you down, use his full strength to keep you down. He hadn’t meant to be so rough, but you’d nearly knocked his jaw out of place. It was only fair that he knocked you back with just enough effort to get you into a position he could control.

But not before you’d bitten him.

“Fuck!” He’d nearly shouted when your teeth had sank into the muscle of his shoulder. He’d had to wrench you away from him like some wild animal, and he’d nearly snapped your neck with the force it had taken. His hand had been curled in your hair, grip tight enough to hurt as he’d pulled you off of him, his own blood coating your teeth.

He didn’t miss the way his chest had tightened at the sight.

You were tougher than he’d given you credit for.

But the tussle had hurt the both of you, and now here you were; back pressed against his chest, both of you bruised and bloodied, rage and betrayal coiled like snakes in the pits of your stomach. Dex, angry that he’d made such a fuck up with you, lip split and sore from where your fist had connected with it and you; betrayed and bloodthirsty because how dare a man pull such a cruel stunt? Was it what you deserved for having had faith that maybe just this one time, one would prove themselves to be good?

“Why?” Your voice was sharp, words almost slurred from the way he was gripping your jaw. “Why were you stalking me?”

You couldn’t see it, but Dex’s face curled into a grimace. He was embarrassed and angry with himself for having gotten caught. He had just wanted to make sure you were safe, that you were okay. You were too nice, listened too often to assholes who could hurt you, men who may try to take your time, time away from him.

His breathing was laboured, sharp, head buzzing with adrenaline-no, fear-as he tried to collect himself.

“Answer me,” You growled and suddenly Dex was pushing his pointer and middle finger past your swollen lower lip, the rough pads of his fingers heavy against your tongue. You started, nearly recoiling at the way he was silencing you, thicker fingers pressing past your teeth.

“Shh, just let me-let me-” Dex shudders behind you, stance shifting as he tries to collect himself. “Let me think.”

You blink, eyes wide. You could bite him, right now, leave him bloodied and injured with the way he’s got you situated. Two fingers pressed against your tongue, nose buried in your hair as he tries to collect himself.

You don’t, instead you find yourself trying not to flush with embarrassment at the way your spit is beginning to soak the digits. Your teeth press lightly into the skin, breath warm around him.

Dex lifts his head after a few moments, swallowing loudly behind you. The gesture doesn’t seem to be intentional in its sexual nature, and Dex seems to be genuinely lost in himself behind you, his anxiety obvious as it continues to climb.

“I-I didn’t mean to scare you,” Dex finally begins to speak, and his voice sounds different, somewhat smaller. His fingers flex absentmindedly against your tongue as he struggles to find the words, desperate to explain himself.

He couldn’t handle you leaving, hating him.

“It started out simple, I was just looking out for you. I was worried-” Dex lets out a shaky breath and you feel the way it shifts across the back of your neck. He licks his lips before he continues, “You’re too nice to people. Your exes, coworkers, hell even strangers, they try to take advantage of you.”

You frown, tongue shifting against his fingers as if to protest because no, you establish boundaries and are quite good at communicating-

But Dex’s fingers flatten against your tongue, silencing you. You try to swallow the spit that’s accumulating in your mouth but it’s difficult given the way he’s pressing into your mouth. You feel the digits press against the roof of your mouth as your tongue shifts, drool slipping past the edge of your mouth and down the corner of your lip, soaking his fingers.

The filthy nature of the situation is embarrassing.

Still, you squirm, ashamed at the part of you that’s thrilled by the way he’s got your wrists pinned, how he’s silencing you, and how desperate he sounds behind you as he struggles to explain himself.

“I care about you Y/N,” He says earnestly in your ear, sighing behind you. “I’m just trying to keep you safe. Can’t you see that?”

He was delusional, far more damaged than you’d originally thought, and fear prickled along the length of your spine. He genuinely believed he was in the right, that he was doing you a service, that he was a hero of sorts.

“Please,” His voice is desperate, near whiny. “Can’t you see that?”

You try to pull your head away from him, his fingers pressing too deeply into your throat, a breathy sound escaping you. You can’t speak, can’t answer him when he’s got you situated like this. If he pressed any further into your mouth you feared you may gag on him.

“I’m gonna move my hands, okay?” Dex’s voice is a bit more firm now as he speaks, his lips beside your ear. “Don’t scream.”

There’s a beat of silence before Dex begins to slowly slide his fingers across your tongue, pulling them from your mouth before he’s holding your jaw again. His hand is wet against your skin as he cradles your face in hand, his firm grip a reminder of the control he has over the situation.

Your tongue slides across your lip, the salt of his skin mixing with the iron of your blood.

“You didn’t need to stalk me,” Your voice is hoarse. “I was-” You sigh, frustrated as you struggle to find the words. “I thought we were friends.”

A little more, actually. You’d hoped he was interested and had fantasized about him more than you’d ever care to admit out loud.

“We are friends,” Dex insists, shifting closer to you. You startle, eyes widening as your hands brush against the crotch of his jeans. It isn’t intentional, you know that, it’s just the nature of the position he’s still got you forced in. Your wrists are trapped in his much larger hand, pressed against your tailbone as he shifts closer. “I just had to make sure you were safe-”

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” You snap back, and it’s far more mean than you’d meant it to be. “That’s not what you were doing Dex, so cut the bullshit.”

You crane your neck to look back at him and for the first time this evening, Dex allows you to. You can only catch the corner of his face but what you can see startles you.

Pupils blown wide, greying hair moussed, drying blood at his temple, nostrils flared as he tries to catch his breath.

He looked…scared.

“Tell me why. Now. And be honest.”

Dex opens his mouth to speak again, stuttering over more bullshit before you’re rocking your head back, skull connecting with his chin. He curses, nearly losing his grip on you.

It aches but you snap at him again anyway. “Stop lying to me!”

“Fine!” He barks, and suddenly his hand is slipping from your jaw, long, slender fingers wrapping around your throat as he leans forward. “I don’t want to share you.”

You pause, eyes fixed on the wall ahead of you.

“Is that what you wanted to hear?” His voice is a snarl, nasty, mean, as he talks down to you. “I don’t want anyone else spending their time with you. Listening to you, learning you, taking you away from me. I can do all of that for you. I can be there for you, help you, keep you safe. Isn’t that enough?”

You should be scared. More than that, you should be scared that you’re not scared. But a part of you, maybe the broken part that you should have addressed years ago, is flattered. Flattered that someone as intelligent, calculated and skilled as Dex has become so possessive over you. Flattered that someone so handsome was angry at the thought of sharing you.

So when you flex your hand and your palm flattens against the zipper of Dex’s jeans, right where his dick should be, and you feel him catch his breath, you don’t say a word. It seems innocent enough, like you’re trying to release some of the tension in your muscles, but Dex’s fingers flex against the smooth skin of your neck and you feel it-

Feel the way his cock flexes against your palm, the way it seems to jump to life at your touch.

Dex seems startled by it, swallowing loudly. “What’re you-”

He’s cut off when you cup him, grip tight as a strangled moan escapes him, face tipping forward against the back of your head as he momentarily loses control. Your pulse flutters under his fingertips, hands pinned between your ass and his front as you gently squeeze his hardening cock.

“Y/N,” Your name is a breathy warning on his tongue, his eyes wide as he stares down at your hand and how you’re palming him. This wasn’t what he’d expected, especially not with how angry you’d been with him only moments before. “If this is some sort of game-” He’s cut off when a strangled grunt escapes him, your thumb rubbing circles over the head of his sensitive dick. He can feel the wet spot forming in his jeans as his hips jerk forward, desperate for more friction, for more of you.

Was this mean? Maybe. Cruel? Probably. Maybe that should have startled you, but it didn’t. Instead, you continued to palm Dex’s growing erection through his jeans, thumb swiping across the growing wet spot where the leaking slit should be. His breathing was laboured, hot against your scalp as his hand flexed around your wrists. His grip on your throat was loosening, thumb coming up to drag across your lower lip.

If you could distract him long enough, then you could break free. That was the plan; use his attraction to you as an advantage, tease him long enough to have him let his guard down so you could escape.

Right.

Yes.

That sounded like a good plan.

Right?

So why could you feel your nipples hardening beneath your bra? And was Dex’s whiny, pathetic moans spurring you on? You could feel your cunt clenching around nothing, a damp heat beginning to flood the space between your thighs, goose bumps rippling across your skin at the way his breathing was shifting as he bucked into your hand.

Normal, you told yourself. My body’s just reacting, perfectly normal.

“Y/N,” He whispered, and it sounded broken. “Please.”

Oh, fuck.

You felt your chest tighten at how desperate he sounded.

Oh…was Dex a sub?

You found yourself screwing your eyes shut, trying desperately to will your body to just shut off and listen, to be scared of the situation, to be logical but Dex’s erection was full now and it was thick in your hand as your fingers traced the shape of it. Long, full, the kind that hurt you as they pushed into you, the kind that had you begging men to slow down as your nails sunk into their hips, the kind that had you squirming because of how good the burn was as they stretched you open.

But of course Dex was big. Of course the complicated, handsome, clearly somewhat insane man who was stalking you also had a huge dick.

And of course he was hard for you.

And of course he was panting and whimpering as he let his forehead fall against your shoulder, tongue lolling out as he lapped at your skin. And of course your name sounded sinful as his teeth grazed the gentle slope of your skin before he was biting into it.

“Ah, Dex!” You hissed, his canines sharp as they pressed into you. His only response was a breathy hum before his fingers were pressing against your lips again, gently tracing the shape of them.

“Open up.”

You didn’t mean to oblige, didn’t mean to moan softly as his fingers slid across your tongue, didn’t mean to have your eyes drift shut when he ground himself further into your hand. You didn’t mean to shiver when his lips pressed against your ear as you drooled on his fingers, didn’t mean to whine when he slid his tongue across your ear, or cry out when he pressed his tongue into your ear and started making out with it.

Oh, fuck-

Squirming didn’t help, didn’t sway him as he continued to lap at your ear, thumb hooked under your chin, two fingers pressing into your tongue as he kept you still for him. He was rutting gently into your hand, tongue wet and hot as it slid over the shell of your ear.

“I can’t even begin to tell you how many times I imagined what you’d sound like once I got my hands on you,” Dex’s voice was deep, breathy, shiver inducing as he spoke gently to you. “How many times I imagined it was me touching you while I listened to all the pretty sounds you make when you make yourself feel good.”

Your eyes snapped open, startled at the realization that Dex has been spying on you while at home. You struggled to speak against his fingers but Dex just tutted in response. “Mm mm,” He hummed, gently pushing your tongue down. “Stay quiet for me.”

The action had heat flooding your core. The lack of control had you sinking into his grip.

“I want to make you feel good,” Dex begged in your ear, nose brushing against your temple. “Please, Y/N, let me make you feel good.” He gently withdrew his fingers from your mouth, spit soaked and shaking slightly as he gently pressed them against your cheek. He was silent as he waited for you to respond.

You paused, heart hammering in your chest as you mulled over your options. Dex was buzzing behind you, acutely aware of the infinitely thin ledge he was currently toeing with you.

He only breathed a sigh of relief when he felt you shift to curl your fingers around his belt buckle and tug, hands still trapped behind you.

“Take these off,” You murmured and Dex swallowed, hand still wrapped tightly around your wrists. He couldn’t let go, fearful you’d run, his need to control control control overruling his desire.

Dex shuffled back half an inch, eyes dark as he began to fumble with his belt buckle. He was watching your hands flex in his grip, finger tips tracing the obvious bulge in his jeans as he struggled to pull the belt free. It took only a few moments despite the slight shake in his hands, before he was watching with bated breath as you pinched his zipper and tugged.

“Dex, help.”

He felt like he couldn’t focus, heart in his throat as he unbuttoned his jeans, watching the way you tugged the zipper down and pushed past the fabric, fingers slipping beneath the waist band of his briefs and then-

Dex should have been embarrassed at the sound that escaped him when your fingers wrapped around the thick shaft of his dick. He should have been embarrassed with how his hips jerked forward when your grip tightened, the weight of him heavy in your palm when you pulled his dick from his pants started jerking him off. He should have been embarrassed at how turned on he was watching your fingers trace the flushed tip of his cock despite the fact that he was still holding your wrists in his other hand, how your hands were still being held behind your back, how big his dick looked in your smaller hands, and how he couldn’t peel his eyes away when he started gently bucking into your grip.

“Dex.”

He realized you’d been gently calling his name and he whimpered, cock flexing.

“Hm?” He hummed, half lidded gaze lifting to the back of your head.

“Spit on it. Spit on my hand.”

His cock jumped in your hand at the lewd command and he damn near busted in that moment.

“Y-yes m’am,” He finally managed, tongue sliding across the back of his teeth before he was gathering his spit. It was filthy, the way it sounded as he tipped his head forward and spat onto the length of his cock and watched as it slid across your fingers. Even filthier still when you began to jerk him off again, using his own spit as lube.

Dex’s eyes snapped shut, head falling forward as he cried out, hips stuttering at the brutal pace you’d set. It was somewhat awkward, your hands still forced behind your back, the tip of his cock pressed against your ass, his free hand moving back up to wrap around your throat as you jerked him off. He was a mess, breathing laboured as he whined in your ear, soft gasps escaping him every time the edge of your tight fist caught the sensitive tip.

He wasn’t going to last long, not like this. Not with his face buried in your hair and the scent of your conditioner flooding his senses. Not with the way you were tightening your grip on him. Not with the way your own breathing had shifted, or how you were encouraging him to let go.

“That’s it Dex,” Your voice was so god damn soft, so you, so- “That’s it baby, does that feel good?”

He ruts forward at the pet name, fingers flexing around your wrists.

“Uh huh,” It’s breathy, needy. Embarrassing.

“Is this how you wanna cum?” Your voice is like honey, though somewhat condescending and Dex feels like he may keel over. His cock is unbelievably sensitive in your firm grip, the obscene shlick shlick sounds drifting upwards as you continue to tug on him, precum and his own spit mixing across the thick length and flushed tip.

“D-do I have a choice?” He manages, and he tilts his head forward, pupils blown wide as he stares down at your chest. Fuck, you look good.

He can hear the way you grin as you answer; “No.”

Dex can’t help himself, can’t help the way his hand shifts from your throat and slides down your chest, how he palms your tit through the flimsy fabric of your tank top, can’t help the way he tugs the cup of your bra down so he can let his fingers drag across your nipples. He can’t help the way he feels your arch in his grip, chest pressing into his hand when he pinches your sensitive peaks, or the way his grin turns sinister when your body so clearly responds to him.

He knew you liked him, knew you wouldn’t deny him, knew you were his. Filthy, desperate, needy, just like him. All his.

No one else deserved to have this, have you. You belonged with him, to him.

“That’s it,” His voice is soft, though the tone is almost cruel as he tugs your top and bra beneath your breast, pushing it free and leaving you exposed. He lifts his hand to your mouth once more and taps your lips, encourage you to open your mouth. You oblige, a soft sound of surprise escaping you when he forces his fingers into your mouth for the umpteenth time that evening. “Suck.”

You do, eyes drifting shut as your tongue slides across his thick fingers, cheeks hollowing as you suck him further into your mouth. You can hear the way Dex moans behind you, body sagging against you as he ruts more aggressively into your fist. Needy son of a bitch.

He pulls his fingers free from your mouth with a wet pop and you whine softly, though it’s replaced with a loud gasp when he begins to toy with your exposed nipple, coating it in your own spit.

“How’s that, hm?” His voice is barely above a whisper, blonde scruff dragging against the soft shell of your ear as he speaks. “Feel good?”

Your head falls back against his shoulder, grip tightening around his cock as you momentarily surrender to the pleasure. Dex shouldn’t have known these things, known exactly what got you going, but clearly he’d been stalking and watching you for far longer than you’d realized.

A particularly sharp tug has you gasping, eyes snapping open.

“Answer me.”

You nod, thighs clenching at the harsh treatment, before answering: “Y-yes Dex, it feel’sgood.”

“Good girl,” It’s a purr in your ear, his voice smooth as velvet as he continues to palm at your chest. Your eyes drifting shut, mouth falling open as Dex continues to fuck his cock into your slick fist, his grip still bruising as he holds your wrists. It was filthy, abhorrent, the way he seemed to be using you to pleasure yourself, and yet you found yourself growing needier, pussy soaked, as time wore on.

You moaned softly as Dex’s large, warm palm began to smooth down the expanse of your rib cage and over your stomach, fingers dipping into the waist band of your pants.

“This what you want, huh?” He asks, near breathless. You try to turn to him, to catch his gaze, but he’s got his chin on your shoulder, eyes glued to your arching body. “Filthy girl, so needy for me, pretendin’ she’s mad that I know her.” His hand slips below your jeans and you gasp, suddenly nervous. “That I need her.”

“Wait-” You startle, trying to straighten. “Dex-”

His fingers are suddenly sliding between the slick folds of your pussy and you cry out, startled by the sheer amount of slick to be found, and how fuckin’ sensitive you are.

You hadn’t realized how needy he’d made you feel until his middle finger was gently sliding over your swollen clit.

“Fuck!” It was a gasp as you arched, head pressing against his shoulder.

“Don’t try and stop me,” He snarls, and the animalistic gaze that meets yours when your eyes open should have scared you. You know that, that Dex should scare you shitless, but instead you find yourself clenching around his fingers as he pushes two into your aching cunt.

“Gah, Dex!” You nearly sob, fist tight around his dick as he begins pumping his fingers into you, palm pressed flat against your swollen clit, an embarrassing amount of slick now covering his hand and fingers.

Dex curses, hips jumping forward, before he turns to press his lips against your ear, merciless as he begins to work you open.

“I know you more than you know yourself,” It’s a growl, a warning. “Let me in. Let me take care of you.”

The pace is brutal, filthy, the wet sounds of his fingers pushing into you are obscene as they fill the dark expanse of your now messy apartment. You’re on the tips of your toes, back arching, head pressed into Dex’s shoulder as his palm pushes against your clit. Your breathing is laboured, whines and praise freely escaping you as Dex works you up faster than any man ever has.

“D-Dex!” It’s a warning, your thighs shaking, as you struggle to continue to pump his cock, eyes blurring with tears as your orgasm builds at an alarming rate. You want so desperately to continue to pleasure him, his cock unbelievably hard in your fist as he forces you to ride his fingers.

“That’s it pretty girl,” His voice is shaking with the effort he’s putting into making you cum on him. “Gonna watch you cum all over me, all for me, yeah? Isn’t that what you want? Do it, fuckin’ cum for me. All over my fingers-” He tilts his head, grinning as his lips brush against your ear once more. “Before I fill you to the fuckin’ brim with my cock. See how pretty you look when I stretch you open.”

His voice sends you over the edge with a loud cry, eyes squeezed shut as begin to shake in his firm grip, thighs desperately trying to close around his thick fingers. But Dex doesn’t slow, doesn’t stop as he continues his brutal pace, fingers pushing into your fluttering cunt.

“Keep touching me baby,” He pleads, breathless when he finally, finally, releases your wrists and wraps his hand around your throat again, keeping you pinned against him as he forces you to ride out your orgasm.

It’s overwhelming, overstimulating as you clench around his thick fingers, and you feel delirious when Dex is suddenly grunting in your ear, hot ropes of cum spilling across your hand and the back of your ass as he cums into your fist. He’s still pumping his fingers into you as he cums, whining in your ear as he ruts into your hand. You try, desperately to make sense of what’s happening, to gather your thoughts and do something, anything, as you come down from the high but instead you’re sinking against him, watching with bleary eyes as he pulls his hand from your jeans and-

God, you came so hard you fuckin’ creamed on his fingers and you can see it-

Dex’s pupils are blown wide, eyes half open as he pushes his fingers into his mouth and sucks them clean. He moans, eyes fluttering shut, tongue lapping at the digits like it’s the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted and it has you licking your lips.

Dex keeps his eyes on you as he hand slips back into your jeans, fingers lazily pumping into you for a few moments, ignoring the way you wince and cry out softly, before he’s bringing his cum soaked fingers to your lips once more. He taps them-

once.

twice.

“Open up.”

You do, moaning softly as he presses his fingers against your tongue once more, the sweet, salty taste of your cum flooding your senses.

“That’s it,” Dex coos, voice unbelievably soft as he urges you on. “Such a good girl for me.”

He gently pulls his fingers free from you then before resting them against your lips. You have only a moment of rest before Dex is suddenly kissing you, breath hot as he laps at his fingers that are still pinned between your mouths.

You groan, mouth opening as you lick at his spit and cum soaked fingers, your tongues dancing and lapping at one another’s and around his thick digits. It’s wet, needy and unbearably hot. Despite the fact that he’s released your wrists, you keep them behind your back, still holding his softening, cum soaked cock in your hands while you kiss around his fingers.

Dex pulls back after a while, breathing heavy, a thick line of saliva attaching his swollen lips to yours, his pupils blown wide as he watches you. There’s a long stretch of silence as you regard one another, your breathing levelling out as you relax in your stalker’s embrace.

“I will not share you.”

“Dex, stop, please, I can’t do this right now,” There’s an edge to your voice, frustration painfully evident as you move to turn away your boyfriend. Was he that still? You honestly weren’t sure anymore.

“Y/N, please,” he sounds desperate, eyes wide with panic, breathing laboured as he continues to try and station himself in front of you. He’d spent the better part of the hour explaining that he was, in fact, the masked killer Bullseye.

He’d been tucked into your living room chair, palms pressed flat to his knees as he explained, in detail, what his second life was like. You’d stood there, arms crossed, body rigid, as you mulled over what your boyfriend had told you.

So not only had he hid a secret identity from you, but he was also, essentially, a villain.

Great.

And the worst part? It made so much god damn sense. How had you not seen it? Were you really that fucking blind? Or had you hoped, prayed, that you’d finally been dating a good, decent man?

You knew that Dex had killed, yes-he was in the FBI, of course he’d had to. But killing out of necessity was very different than a criminal paying you because they put a hit on someone. The late nights, irregular bruising and body aches made so much more sense now. Yes, some part of you figured he was doing vigilante work but this wasn’t vigilant work.

It was straight up immoral.

Dex had tried to keep this a secret. He hadn’t wanted to, but this had been so good. He had been so good. He liked this relationship, had fallen in love with you, and was happy. Coming home to you had proven to be as adjustment he looked forward to. It had made him feel…normal. He didn’t have to pretend around you: he had his outbursts, his moments of panic, felt the need to keep things organized and in their place, and you were always so kind about it. He’d been put in his place by you, of course, but he’d been trying. He wanted this, needed this, needed you. But the look on your face now left him feeling scared, terrified even. Fear rose like bile in his throat and he felt his heart beating frantically in his chest, like a caged bird beneath the confines of his ribs.

The wretched, angry animal in him was clawing at his insides, begging to be set free.

She can’t do this to me. She can’t leave.

You’d been standing with your arms crossed the entire time he’d been talking to you, and god he’d been trying so hard not to shake or sweat but the hardened look on your face was making it difficult not to. And now you wanted space? Time to think? So you didn’t understand him like you’d said you did. If you’d actually understood him, knew him, cared about him, then this would make sense. You’d be understanding.

Why weren’t you understanding?!

Sweat had gathered on Dex’s temples and he swallowed loudly, palms facing you, terrified you were suddenly scared of him after realizing what he was capable of.

“Please, just-” The panic was evident in his usually calm, level voice. “Let’s just sit and talk. If you let me explain-”

“Benjamin,” Your voice is curt, short and nearly halts him in his tracks. “We have been talking. That’s what this was. You explained yourself and I asked for space.”

Dex felt like he was on the verge of a panic attack. The need to fold in on himself was beginning to chisel away at whatever was keeping him standing in front of you at this moment.

He could feel the tremor in his hands as he fought the urge to lunge forward and pull you into him. He couldn’t let you have space. Then you could leave him, decide it was better to be apart, and what if you didn’t want to see him again? What if you broke up with him? What was Dex supposed to do? Nonono, he needed you. He needed you.

Dex’ breathing was sharp, his heart in his throat as he moved to block your path again, his hands still out, palms facing you, showing he was safe.

I’m safe baby please.

I’m safe.

Safe.

Your face twisted and Dex could see your frustration with him quickly shifting into anger. He was overwhelming you, he knew that, but he couldn’t stop. This awful, awful ache in his gut made him feel like he was drowning and you hadn’t even left. What would he do if you did? What would he do if you said you needed space and actually took it?

He tried to keep himself from reaching for you, from touching you, from pulling you into him and making you listen and just fucking understand him.

He side stepped when you moved, planting himself back in your path.

“Dex-” A warning.

“Please, just-” He could hear how desperate he sounded, and maybe he should have cared but he couldn’t. “Don’t leave. Can we please talk? About this? Please?”

An exasperated sigh left you, and Dex watched your lip curl in a way it only did when you were reaching your limit.

“I know you said you needed space,” He rushed to explain himself, muscles tense as he prepared to physically stop you from moving away from him. “I just think we need to go over some things a little bit more.”

“Dex, did you lie to me?” It was curt, short, abrupt.

He froze, eyes boring into your own.

He swallowed.

“Yes, but-”

“That’s all I needed to hear,” You’d thrown your hands in the air, eyes rolling as you turned to move away from him again. “Please leave now. I just need some time to myself-”

Dex should have been embarrassed at his desperation. Honestly, he’d never even imagined he’d end up in a relationship let alone love someone the way he loved you.

He needed you.

You’d guided him. Hell, he’d even worn the mask exponentially less because he wanted to be around you so often. He wanted to be more like you, to love you, to protect you, to own you. You were his and only his.

So he did what any sane man would do: Benjamin Poindexter dropped to his knees and begged.

“Oh god,” it escaped you in a startled whisper.

“Please,” His voice was strained, brows drawn together as if it pained him to speak. His hands were on his thighs in front of him, flexing, as if he was forcing them to remain there. “I-I’ll do anything Y/N, just-just don’t leave.”

It was pathetic, he was pathetic. Begging on his knees in your apartment, pleading with you to just give him another chance.

His chest was heaving, sharp breaths escaping him as he gazed up at you. He looked wild and barely contained, and you could tell in that moment that even if you tried to make him leave, it was more than likely that he’d simply refuse. Or linger in the area. You hated how much you loved that about him.

“Benjamin,” It escaped you in a startled sigh, blinking rapidly as you gazed down at your boyfriend. You’d never seen him so distraught, so desperate.

It made your chest and pussy ache.

“Please,” His voice was hoarse. “I…I can’t do this without you.” Dex leaned forward on his knees, tentatively reaching towards you. “I’ll do whatever you ask me to. I’ll be good, I promise.”

Your hand came up to cover your mouth, lashes fluttering in surprise at how earnest he was being. You really had only wanted space…just-just some time to think. The realization that Dex was Bullseye was heavy. And, truthfully, you knew that this was manipulative. Dex could, absolutely, be manipulative. But he was also desperate and possessive. And honestly? Pathetic.

You loved that about him.

“Dex…” It was soft, the way you said it, and Dex moved to wrap his large, warm hands around your thigh, drawing you closer to him.

“Baby, please, I need you,” It was rushed, whiny, “I-I can fix it, just let me fix it.”

“Dex,” You started, eyes fluttering shut as you turned your face to look away from him, overwhelmed by his demonstration. “You can’t stop being yourself, and this is-”

He looked anguished. “I know I upset you, I know I lied and I promised I wouldn’t-” His hands were flexing around your leg, demanding, fingers almost bruising. “I fucked up. But I need you Y/N.”

Fuck.

You lifted your gaze to the ceiling for a moment, cursing yourself under your breath. Were you really going to cave? Fuck, it was so hard not to with him. He was so…Dex.

When you finally looked down at him again it almost made you catch your breath. His lips were parted, cheeks a soft hue of pink, brows drawn together and hair moussed. He was a wreck, begging on his knees for you, his hands wrapped around your leg. He’d moved closer so that your foot was resting between his knees now as he gazed up at you.

“Don’t make me leave,” His voice cracked as he spoke and you nearly wailed in frustration.

“Fine,” It was a soft murmur and you reached out to gently smooth his hair back from his forehead. “You can stay. Just…calm down, okay?”

Dex’ eyes fell shut, face immediately shifting into one of relief as he leaned into your touch.

“Thank you baby,” He managed, and when he gazed up at you, you nearly caught your breath. “I promise I’ll behave.”

He pulled you closer to him then, crowding around your leg as he began planting open mouthed kisses atop your thigh. You could feel his tongue and teeth dragging along the skin as you continued to rake your fingers through his hair.

“Thank you, thank you,” He kept whispering between kisses, hand hand smoothing up the back of your thigh as he drew you even closer to his body.

“Y/N, it’s nice to see you again,” His voice is flat, as if he’s uninterested in this interaction, like he has other, far more important places to be. Like this time spent here, with you, is cumbersome. A nuisance at best.

And not at all like he’s about to go toe to toe with the woman he’s had feelings for over the past six months.

If he didn’t know you, he’d have said you also looked indifferent, angry at best. Your jaw was set, top lip curled ever so slightly-disgust? Probably. You’d spat his name like the thought of it lingering on your tongue made you nauseas. It was nothing like the way you’d said it so many times before. No, you’d been sweet before. Dangerous, yes, he knew what you were capable of. But you’d been sweet, especially to him. Understanding of his circumstances, wanting more for him, wishing he’d been treated better despite his condition. You’d made him want to be more, to do more, to feel. But Dex was an animal and he accepted that now.

And it pained him to see that it looked like you were itching to put him down.

Your tongue slides over your canines, hands flexing into fists at your sides, brows low as you look him over. He can see the anger, the burning rage behind your e/c eyes, and he understands why people are fearful of you. You hunt your enemies like they’re prey, and you do a damned good job at it. Matt had kept you on a tight leash at times, worried you may take it too far one day, take a life. You’d always told him he worried too much.

Dex wondered if today was the day you’d finally cross that line, if it was his blood you’d spill in a way that could not be salvaged.

He didn’t like the way it made his chest ache.

“You lied to me,” Your words were clipped, and your nose wrinkled ever so slightly afterwards, the way it always did when you didn’t like something. Usually you only did that when Dex spoke with you about something someone else had done to him. He’d gotten so good at being…well, good.

But how long could wild animals stay house trained?

“Did I?” He shrugged as he spoke, watching you carefully as he took a step closer. The weight of his blade in his hand felt familiar, and yet it didn’t comfort him the way it usually did. Maybe the idea that he may have to bury it within you felt too heavy.

I don’t have a choice.

“Everyone has a choice,” You’d said all those months ago. God, you’d sounded just like Matt. It had made him want to strangle you. No wonder the Catholic prick enjoyed your company so much. But Dex had stayed silent, you didn’t need to know that he knew Matt. He wanted his private life to remain exactly that; private. He’d wanted to keep you to himself. You cared for one another, patched up wounds, exchanged stories, shared meals and ensured the other got home safely.

Was it really his fault that you’d assumed he was a vigilante? No, no, it was on you for not digging better. It was on you for assuming he was good, for looking for the best parts of him. He didn’t ask you to do that. You did it on your own. You were foolish, you were dumb, not him.

Right?

You eyes narrowed at him, and he could hear your voice before you even spoke: “Omitting the truth is a lie, Dex!”

The last time you’d said that, you’d laughed as you stitched his shoulder. Matt had caused the damage, though you didn’t need to know that.

Except you didn’t laugh as you said it this time. In fact, you didn’t say anything at all. And it bothered Dex. He was supposed to know you.

Maybe not knowing you would make this easier.

Your head tilts as you regard him, and he watches the way your hair shifts as you do, mask forgotten in this moment. He supposed neither of you needed them now that the truth was out.

He can feel your eyes on him, feel the way you’re watching the way he’s breathing, the way his hands are flexing, his stance, where his eyes drift, all of it. You’re hunting him in the same manner he’s hunting you. He’s impressed, turned on, and angry. Hurt too, if he looked too deeply, but he can’t afford to do that anymore. Can’t afford to force his jaw to unclench when the scent of your perfume shifts in the wind and invades his senses. Can’t afford to let his gaze shift over your curves, or the way your suit hugs the taut muscles of your thighs. Can’t afford to acknowledge the hurt that’s so painfully evident in your drawn brows or the way your eyes are boring into his because he betrayed you.

Dex betrayed you.

The one person who’d had faith in him.

Whatever.

Right?

“You gonna kill me now?” Dex grins as he says it, pressing the tip of his dagger into his pointer finger, relishing in the way it nearly pierces the glove. “It’d be an honor to be your first.”

“I may have to,” Your voice is flat as you say it, like you’re accepting the circumstances you’ve found yourself in. Dex only blinks at you, seemingly unfazed by your bold claim. “Or maybe I’ll maim you. I think being paralyzed might keep that ego of yours in check.”

His smile wavers for the briefest of moments, lip curling with rage at your threat. How bitchy of you.

He can see the way your nostrils are flaring to let more of his scent in, the way your nails are lengthening, lips curling back over canines that are just a little too large to be human.

Mutant. That’s what people called you guys now. Huh, didn’t think he’d ever get lumped in with that lot.

“Feral,” You’d teased. It felt like ages ago that he’d been sitting at your table, the warm glow of your kitchen light bathing his greying hair in a halo. How ironic. “That’s what they call me. Maybe it’s because they’re scared of me.”

“They should be,” He’d shrugged, two hands wrapped tightly around the blue mug of tea you’d poured for him. Something about the herbs in it would help him heal faster, you’d said. He never believed in that bullshit, but the honey you’d tossed into it had tasted good. It helped that you’d licked the spoon before you’d stirred his tea. “One of these days I’d like to see you in action.”

“I stay in control,” You’d lulled, leaning against your counter. “I’m no Wolverine.”

But now, with the city buzzing beneath the two of you, and the darkened space of the rooftop providing the barest of lighting, Dex wasn’t so sure he’d come out of this as unscathed as he’d hoped. He’d betrayed you, and that was the only thing you’d said made you angry enough to lose control.

“You’re a coward,” You snarled, face tipping forward. Your stance shifted-lower, coiled, ready. “I can smell you Dex-you’re scared.”

He swallowed. “Maybe. Maybe I’m excited,” He shrugged again, cocking his head at you. “Maybe I’ll finally get to see if you’re all talk. If the big bad Y/N is as terrible as she makes herself seem.” He moved as if to bow. “Or if she’s still living in DareDevil’s shadow.”

You grinned for a moment and Dex cursed himself for thinking about how beautiful you looked. “I’m going to gut you Ben Poindexter, and then I’m going to suck the marrow from your bones and eat your insides.”

Oh.

He feels his cock jump at your threat. Honestly, mainly because he knows you mean it. The threat behind your words is very real and backed by the kind of skill he’s rarely encountered.

God, how was he ever going to get into a healthy relationship if the women he was attracted to were like this?

There’s a moment of tense silence, sirens and traffic blaring below you, the wind whistling through the stone maze of Hell’s Kitchen below you, and then you’re moving.

You’re fast, unbelievably so, claws outstretched and teeth bared-

But Dex is too.

He’s got his knife between his fingers before you’ve taken half a step and it’s whistling through the air.

He almost hopes he misses.

But he doesn’t, he’s Dex.

The difference? It doesn’t slow you. It’s sinks into the meat of your bicep with a sickening shlunk and you only roar in frustration. Dex barely has time to curse or pivot before you’re tearing into the flesh of his shoulder.

Ow.

He cries out, grunting, thick hand wrapping around your other wrist before you can land another blow. Fuck, he may actually have to hurt you.

As if on cue, you snap at him, teeth missing his chin by an inch or so before he’s recoiling and taking you with him. Fuck sakes, you’re strong.

“Don’t go easy on me now, Dex,” You spit, teeth grinding as you struggle to twist out of his grip.

He only grins again, eyes ablaze. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

The fight that ensues is exhausting. Ben Poindexter has been trained in hand to hand combat for years, and despite that, both you and that god forsaken man in red seem to be level or even one step ahead of him.

He’s gasping for air, hurling whatever he can get his hands on at you, landing hit after hit, a kick to the ribs, even had your hair in his fist at one point and yet despite all of it?

You’re kicking his ass.

He’s never seen anyone so angry. You’d put even Fisk to shame with the way you were tearing into him. Blood, either his or your own, stretched across your face, and you’d torn through his suit and flesh in more places than he’d care to admit. You were hurt too, limping if he paid too much attention to you. He’d hit your knee in a way that would require medical attention but despite that, you were still standing, still clawing your way through him.

Benjamin Poindexter realized you may actually kill him on this rooftop.

He also realized you’d have to because he didn’t think he’d be able to kill you.

It was a second long pause, maybe even less than that, but it was enough. He’d cracked, hell maybe even broken, a few of your ribs and you were wheezing. Barely, but he could hear it. If he could sink a knife between your ribs you’d go down, he could win-

He didn’t mean to take note of the way your eyes were glassy. He didn’t mean to notice the way your mouth had turned down. He didn’t mean to notice that you were nearly crying despite the fact that your claws were extended while you launched at him.

He did, however, take note of the resounding crack that rang out when his skull connected with the rooftop. A dull, low ache ebbed out from the base of his skull and he groaned, eyes fluttering shut.

Fuck.

It hurt.

It ached.

“You bitch,” He managed to drawl, the heel of his boot scuffing along the gravel beneath him as he tried to pull himself back onto his elbows. His vision was swimming, heartbeat evident as the dull pulse in his head intensified. He could only grunt when he felt you straddle him, eyes rolling back in his skull when he felt a long, sharp claw drag along his pulse on his exposed throat.

Goosebumps ripple across his skin.

“I should kill you,” Your voice is low, he can hear you trying to catch your breath. You’re struggling to breathe, the beating he delivered evident in the wheeze you can’t seem to shake. “Men like you deserve to be put down.”

Dex doesn’t even bother to open his eyes, smiling at your threat. He would have laughed if his ribs didn’t hurt so damn much, teeth pink from the blood pooling on his tongue. “Yeah? Do it then.”

His eyes remain closed as he shifts, hands shifting to rest on your thighs, the one’s pressing on either side of his damaged torso. He swallows thickly, ignoring the sickly sweet taste of his own blood, as he taps a gentle rhythm on your suit.

When he does manage to look up at you, he almost feels guilty at the way you’re staring down at him. Your hand is raised, claws flexed like you might actually sink them into his throat, like you may actually kill him.

It may not have been the worst way to go out. Pretty girl on his torso, angry, possibly tearing his throat out. Could be worse.

Right?

Except you look anguished. If his head wasn’t swimming, Dex would have been able to see that your hand was shaking.

“You lied to me,” Your voice is hoarse, breathing laboured, eyes wild. There’s blood running down your jaw and throat, lip split by Dex’s fist, uniform torn and bloodied by his knives. “I trusted you. Believed in you. Wanted more for you. And you lied!”

Dex can only release a breathy laugh, choking on his own bloodied saliva as he does. He turns his face to the side and spits, tongue flicking out over the torn flesh of his lip. He could have spat on you, splattered the front of your ridiculous costume in more of his blood, but he decides he should be nice despite the circumstances, despite the fact that he wants to spit on you, watch the way it’ll trail down your chest, see if maybe a touch of it will catch on your lip-

You roar above him and Dex is reminded of how incredibly dangerous you are. It’s as captivating as it is terrifying.

He stretches his legs, boots scraping on the bloodied concrete of the roof you’ve got him pinned to. He lets his hands settle on your thighs, thumbs sweeping over the curved muscle, before he’s smoothing up the expanse of them.

“That I did, sweetheart,” He tuts, as if he’s disappointed in himself. Maybe he is. He’d enjoyed you. “So what are you going to do about it?”

You lean forward, nose nearly touching his, claws still extended, threatening. “Maybe I should finally, finally, put the Benjamin Poindexter down. Let this city rest.” Your words are clipped, a near hiss as you spit at him. He can smell his own blood on your breath, see the way it’s turned your pretty teeth pink, see his own reflection staring back at him in your near blackened eyes. It’s haunting, the way he’s staring death in the face and yet he’s thankful it’s you who may finally deliver him.

Dex tilts his head, regarding you for a moment, before he’s reaching up, oh so slowly, to gently wrap his gloved hand around your wrist. He’s soft despite the circumstances, even going so far as to let his thumb rub a gentle circle over your pulse point, before guiding your claws to his throat.

“So,” It’s a hushed whisper, eyes half lidded as he gazes up at you, blonde brows drawing together. “Do it.”

Your pupils dilate, ever so slightly, lips parting as you make sense of what the criminal below you has challenged you with. Dex can see the confusion, the hurt, the pain that flashes across your features, before a calm resolution seems to take place.

His breath catches when he feels the pointed tip of your thumb drag over his Adam’s apple, your pointer finger trailing down his neck while you grin above him.

“Me,” Your voice is low, sultry. “Y/N, the one to take down Bullseye.” Your clawed thumb stops below his bobbing Adam’s apple, pressing into his skin. His breath stutters when he feels you pierce the skin, a small rivulet of blood collecting at the very tip of your claw.

Dex can feel his heart begin to pump a little faster, feels his chest constrict, like he’s suddenly high. His head feels like it could burst, tongue dry as his hazel eyes flick across your sharpened E/C ones.

Fuck.

He can feel your heartbeat on your wrist despite the gloves, can feel the way it’s picked up, the way your temperature has spiked. Is it the blood? His blood? The sight of it? Does the thought of killing him give you the same rush? You were an animal after all. Had Matt really suppressed your instincts? Maybe it was within you to want to kill. Maybe-

Dex’s mind is silenced when you suddenly lean forward, nose just barely brushing his. You’ve never been this close before. Despite all the nights shared together, countless conversations, stories, stitches, you’d never actually moved beyond a few inches of distance. Nothing had ever been…said, addressed. There had been tension, sure, but you’d also seemed hellbent on maintaining distance. It seemed like no matter how many lingering glances Dex lent your way, you remained firm.

Nobody could get too close.

Not romantically.

You couldn’t afford to lose focus.

He couldn’t either.

Right?

Except you were his only focus when he was fucking his own hand, desperately clinging to the lingering scent of your perfume on his clothes. You were his only thought when he was whimpering your name, imagining your mouth against his ear, murmuring his name. Maybe you’d be tough on him, mean even. Maybe you’d use that incredible strength of yours and pin him-

Dex can feel his cock hardening beneath you and he knows you can feel it. You’re straddling his hips, leaning over him, and you’ve got your claws against his throat-can you blame him?

Your face twists in surprise, eyes snapping down to your clothed core, the one currently pressed against his hardening dick, before you’re looking back up at Dex. Dex, who tosses you a wicked grin before his grip on your wrist was tightening and he was yanking you forward.

You almost yelped in surprise, but it’s cut short when his other hand is suddenly wrapped around your throat and the grip is bruising. A choked sound escapes you, eyes swimming with tears as Dex drags your face to his.

“Should have taken the shot,” He whispers, and he revels in the way his lips brush past your ear and God-did you just shiver?

It doesn’t take much to maneuver you, especially when you’re already exhausted and he’s managed to take you by surprise. It’s practiced, fast, clean-a leg hooked over your own, your momentum used against you and suddenly: Dex has got you pinned, gloved hand wrapped tightly around your throat, knife pointed just below your ear.

You’re groaning, lashes fluttering, hands instinctively coming up to grasp, weakly, at Dex’s arms. Hm, your claws had retracted.

Dex huffs out a long breath, sucking his teeth as he looks you over. Your skin’s started to bruise from where he’s struck you, hair matted-maybe you hadn’t had time to secure it-and your breathing is shaky at best. You’re exhausted, bloodied, battered.

Perfect.

“Too slow,” He croons, watching the way your face twists at the realization that Dex has the upper hand once more. He can see your pulse jumping beneath your skin, hand squeezing your throat. He’s delighted, giddy even, with the turn of events. The two of you have finally fought, shown one another what you’re capable of. No matter banter, no more toeing this ridiculous line with you, pretending to be something he’s not-something good, something worthy of you, of your time. He pulls back to look at you, really take in the situation the two of you have found yourselves in when he feels sudden tightness in his throat.

He can’t kill you.

Lying beneath him like this, lashes fluttering, cheeks flushed and lips bloodied, his own blood dirtying your hands, he realizes he cannot kill you.

He also realizes he’d never had any intention of it.

But the knowledge that he’d driven you so close to killing him had him feeling…delighted.

“What’re you waiting for, Dex?” It’s nearly a drawl, you’re obviously exhausted as you half heartedly shift in his grip. “Isn’t this what you do? Kill people? Even the one’s closest to you?”

Your eyes meet his when you say the last part, as if you’re challenging him, urging him to disagree with you. It was as if you wanted Dex to prove to you that he was exactly what everyone thought he was: heartless. He cocks his head at you, the corner of his lip lifting into a grin as he drags the edge of his blade along your jaw.

“Don’t you have any questions?” He taunts, thumb dragging across the middle of your throat. “Don’t you want to know why I lied? Why I hid who I was?”

His gaze slides across your pretty face, lingers on your mouth, before his eyes are boring into yours once more. He wasn’t anticipating such an emotionless return.

“No.”

His jaw ticks.

“Your explanation means nothing.”

Dex’s lip curls, eyes widening with surprise, and fury, at your words. He almost missed the way your lip shifted into the barest of grins.

“Why would I give a fuck about why some low life criminal hung around?” You scoff. “I can see why you have no friends, now,” You’re laughing as you continue, “Had to lie to me to get me to give you an ounce of attention.” You push your face closer to Dex’s, ignoring the way his knife presses dangerously against your throat. “You’re a loser Benjamin Poindexter. You mean nothing to anyone.”

Dex’s jaw is clenched, lips pulled into a thin line, rage coiling like a snake behind his ribs at your words. He knew you were only being bitchy and cruel to him in an effort to have him lose control. But why the fuck did you want that? To what? Prove a point? Have him kill you? Matt was already after him, hated him for what he’d done, so why not add another friend to that list?

“I kept you around like a pet,” You laugh, tongue sliding out over your top lip as you mock the man above you. “Because I felt bad for you. ‘This poor, lonely, loser of a man. Maybe it’s my duty to help him, to save him-’”

“Who in the hell do you think needs saving, huh?” Dex hisses, thumb pressing into the hollow of your throat. You nearly choke, hands flying up to his biceps as you struggle to breathe past his unrelenting grip. He pushes the corner of his knife into the skin behind your ear, grinning when you try to choke out a cry. It’s only the faintest of pressure, but it’s enough to pierce the skin. “Who do you think is going to find you up here?” He laughs. It’s cold, and cruel. “Matt? Where is he? Huh? You need help and where is he?”

Dex’s rage is beginning to boil over. The biting sting of your words has left him feeling betrayed and angry. He understood being enemies, that was something he’d grown accustomed to. But pitying him? Letting him stick around because you felt guilty?!

He felt betrayal and rage begin to gnaw at his gut, the biting teeth of the beast gnawing at his rib cage, begging to be set free, to wreak havoc-

You’re grinning. It’s subtle, the tiniest lift of the corner of your lip, bloodshot eyes welling with tears as you glance his way. Understanding washes over Dex as he looks you over.

“You’re trying to provoke me.” His tone is flat, cold, dry. Your lips split into a shit eating grin, and Dex marvels at the way his cock instantly hardens in his pants.

Fuck.

“Fuck you, Poindexter,” You spit, and he grimaces when it lands directly on his mouth. A dry laugh escapes Dex before he’s slamming his fist into the ground beside your head, knife gripped tightly in hand.

“You fucking brat,” he growls, hand slipping from around your throat to grip your jaw. It’s rough, aggressive as he forces your mouth open, eyes alight with fury. You’re laughing in his fucking face and he could kill you. Dex’s eyes scour your face for a few moments, watching the way you’ve lit up with laughter, before he’s suddenly pressing the flat part of his blade against your tongue. You startle, eyes widening as you regard the roughened blonde atop you. You make a noise, as if struggling to say his name before Dex is grinning down at you. “Not so loud now, eh?”

He watches you, enraptured, as you slowly bite down on the blade, teeth flashing, pupils dilating as you meet his gaze. Your words are muffled by the sharp, cool piece of metal that pushing your tongue flat but you try anyway, looking downright feral as you do; “Bite me.”

Dex feels his chest tighten, breath caught in his throat as he stares down at you. He feels like a starved man, the muscles in his thighs tensing as he shifts his stance over top of you.

You, in all your animalistic glory, were trapped beneath him with his knife in your pretty teeth.

“I think…” He started slowly, blinking as he watched the way your breath fogged the metal. “You like this.”

Your brows dip, eyes widening a fraction at his bold claim. Your grip on his arm tightens as he leans closer to you, nose nearly touching yours.

“I think,” He continued to drawl. “You like that finally, finally, someone can beat you at your own game.”

Sure, Matt would train with you, and he was good. He fought well and hard, In fact, he’d kicked Dex’s ass a few times now. But Matt was…tame. He kept himself, and others, on a tight leash. Everything was always accounted for, in check. And the odd time Matt did lose his temper, his Catholic guilt immediately followed suit and flooded his system. He had a moral compass and strict code that he urged everyone around him to follow. Honestly, Dex found it to be fucking annoying at times. Honestly, was he really a hero if the people he let free kept killing others?

But you, you, were something else entirely. You were a live wire, a caged beast. Dex could see that. He’d felt it that first night you’d found him bloodied and stumbling up the fire escape to his apartment. You’d assumed he was another vigilante, something akin to you and your Matthew, and he’d never denied it. But he’d seen how you moved, the way you consistently fought the urge to give into your instincts. What was it that kept you so in line? You weren’t religious, you broke the law, you’d cursed men and broken bones with ease and yet…through and through he found you there: at Matt’s side, taking the high road, the ‘right way’, playing the hero.

“I think you like that you have to try a little harder,” Dex was smiling out of the side of his mouth as he spoke. “With me.”

He huffed a dry laugh before he was licking his teeth, eyes narrowing as he dropped even closer to you, one hand planted firmly beside your head for balance, the other keeping the blade in your mouth as he lowered himself so that his chest was against yours, thighs encasing your own.

Your eyes widened, gaze wild as you frantically sought his, looking for an explanation.

“I think,” Dex’s voice had dropped, dangerously low as he looked you over, blonde lashes fluttering ever so slightly. “You like this.” His hips shifted as if to accentuate his point and he heard the way your breath caught when his semi hard cock pressed against your crotch. The thick material of your jumpsuits made it difficult to feel all too much, but there was no denying Dex’s arousal or the way his hips settled so nicely between yours thighs.

“Come on, Y/N,” Dex whispered, winking. “You’re never this quiet.”

If he didn’t know you, he’d have said you were scared. Pupils were so wide your eyes were nearly black, breath escaping you in short bursts, hands flexing like you couldn’t decide on how to hurt him to ensure your escape.

And survival.

But Dex did know you, and you were rarely scared.

So when Dex let his free gently brush your hair from your face and your eyes lit with rage, he wanted to laugh. Yeah, he’d always hoped you’d end up in this type of situation but he’d never actually allowed himself to want for it. You were on opposing sides of the existential war. A hero and the villain? Fucking? Your morals were too in tact.

But his weren’t.

Dex tuts quietly under his breath as he gently takes the knife from your mouth, frowning at you when you move to speak.

“For once, just stay quiet-” The handle is tapped against your lips. “For me.”

Your face twists in disgust, but Dex is no fool. He’s spent enough time with you to know you’re intrigued.

He shifts his weight onto his right forearm, the one still planted by your head, as he begins to let the sharpened tip of his blade run down the front of your body. It’s slow, almost cruel, as he lets the metal drag down the front of your throat. It catches for a brief moment on the collar of your jumpsuit before its descent down your body continues. His eyes are almost half lidded as he watches it slowly trail over the swell of your chest, over the curve of your breasts and down to your rib cage. He pauses for a moment when he sees your breath catch, the blade hovering just above your belly button.

“Nervous?” He almost grins as he says it, and he nearly laughs when he sees the way your mouth presses into a hard line. Always so frustrated with him.

Dex’s eyes flick back down to your navel, watching the way his knife smooths over the kevlar of your suit. It’s not long before it’s ghosting over your pubic bone. Dex stops, letting his eyes drag up your body before he’s meeting your burning gaze.

There’s a beat of silence, the sound of the city kicking up around you on the abandoned rooftop, before Dex is tap tap tapping the flat of his blade against your pussy.

You wince, nearly growling in frustration? Disgust? Anger? Possibly all three? He isn’t sure. Dex is quick, the blade leaving his hand for a second or so as he tosses it, now gently gripping the blade in his gloved palm. His eyes are focused oh so carefully on you, taking in every breath, every bead of sweat on your brow, the way your teeth are glinting as you struggle to even out your breath.

He grins.

You stiffen when Dex presses the dull handle of the blade against your core. It’s soft, but…demanding, as he gently prods where your clit would be.

“Shit-” It escapes you in a hiss and you nearly curse yourself, thighs tensing and eyes snapping shut as Dex begins to gently move the handle in circles against you.

“You fucking-” You start, eyes flying open but you startle when you meet Dex’s gaze. His eyes are half lidded, pupils blown so wide the hazel frame surrounding them is nearly lost, teeth barely showing in his lopsided grin.

“Stay still,” His voice is almost gravelly when he speaks. Soft, low, slow. Your claws extend, instincts maybe, but you actually fucking listen to him for once. Your breathing has picked up, and Dex watches you while your tongue glides out over your lower lip, teeth pink with smeared blood, but you’re still. He can feel the barely there movements in your hips as your muscles tense.

He knows you.

Knows you like this.

Knows you in a way no one ever has.

Because, just like him: you’re an animal.

And how often are you subdued? How often are you bested at your own game? Controlled, pinned, beaten?

The answer is never.

Except for now.

And Dex knows, knows deep within his bones, that you’ve craved this.

Maybe that’s why you liked Matt so much.

Maybe Matt could tame you. But could he match your wild frenzy the way that Dex could?

Never.

Dex sucks in a breath, the corner of his lip tugging into a smirk as he gently runs the handle of his blade up and down the seam of your suit, right where your pretty little cunt is, and sees the way your throat bobs as you swallow. He can see the way your nose keeps scrunching ever so slightly, the way your brows dip for the briefest of moments before you’re forcing your face back to one that indicates this hasn’t affected you. No, it couldn’t, right? Not Dex, not the handsome vigilante you’d been helping, not with the way his sweat and cologne were invading your senses, or the way his hair was hanging over his brow as he remained poised over you, or the way his pupils had grown so large the black nearly swallowed the hazel rings entirely.

No, not Dex.

Dex was smiling, a shit eating grin now as he watched your lashes flutter. It was only a moment, a barely there reaction, before you were steeling yourself again but Dex caught it.

“Aw,” It was a whispered coo, his eyes narrowing. “That feel good, princess?”

Before you could respond, your eyes snapping open, teeth bared, Dex had flipped the blade in his hand again. This time, the tip of steel was pressing gently against your upper thigh. Panic flashed in your eyes as Dex’s grin turned into something predatory and your ears pricked at the sound of your suit being torn. The tip of the blade was caught in a tear that must have happened earlier during your battle with Dex. You snapped your gaze downwards, watching in horror, and fascination, as Dex continued to drag the blade down the length of your inner thigh. It was quick, a simple tug of his wrist, but that left you exponentially more exposed. You felt the city’s air rush along your skin, the 6” tear leaving your inner thigh painfully exposed.

“Dex-” You barked, moving to reach for his hand but he only tutted in response, the tip of the blade now pressing into the soft flesh of your thigh. Anger flared through you, but you gritted your teeth despite it.

“Now now Y/N,” his tone was condescending as he continued to smile down at you. “Stay still and behave for me. We wouldn’t want you to accidentally hurt yourself, would we?”

When you swallowed it was audible, and Dex nodded at the sound of it, as if he was pleased with your cooperation. “That’s it.”

Dex was slow, methodical in his movements as he gently pushed the fabric away from your skin. The knife was carefully pinned between his thumb and palm as he let his hand ghost along the edge of the tear on your suit. He let his gaze slide along the length of your pretty neck and down your torso as his gloved fingers finally slid along the flesh of your upper thigh. Goose bumps had rippled across your skin, and he smiled lazily to himself when he felt you tense beneath him.

He finally let his gaze flick back up to yours, hazel eyes locked on your e/c ones when his hand finally slid under the fabric of your suit, fingers pressing flat against your hip. The blade was pinned between your skin and his fingers and you shifted as the cool metal pressed against your warm skin. His thumb was tucked in the crook between your thigh and cunt, the rough material of his suit pulling a shiver from you as he began to trace slow, slow, slow circles.

“Now,” Dex’s voice was just above a whisper. “You tell me; if I touch you, is my glove going to come back clean?”

His words surprise even him, and you, as he says them. He can’t remember the last time he’d been this bold, but there’s something about the way you’re pinned beneath him, and the way he can’t tell if it’s lust or rage clouding your eyes.

The possibility of it being both has his dick pulsing in his pants.

Your only response is the grinding sound of your teeth as you clench your jaw.

Dex grins again.

His hand shifts lower, palm still flat against your skin, fingers splayed, the blade pinned between your warm skin and his gloved hand, as his thumb glides under your suit and-

You hiss, eyes snapping shut when the rough pad of it drags upward, pressing through your folds and presses firmly against your flit. Your hips jerk upwards, head pressing back into the concrete as you involuntarily react.

Dex can’t tear his eyes away from your trembling form. You’re so desperate to control your reaction, to not even react at all, but he can’t help but watch you. He’s barely even touched you, has barely torn your suit to get to your pretty cunt, and he’s only got his thumb pressed oh so sweetly against your clit, and already he’s watching you bare your teeth at him.

Oh he can’t wait to watch you cum for him.

“Now now,” It’s a drawl, and he stills his hand, letting you catch your breath. God, you look so angry.

He loves it.

“Let’s see if my glove’s clean,” He’s still smiling as he speaks to you. “Because you shouldn’t want this, right?” He tips his head forward ever so slightly, tongue flicking out and dragging along his teeth. “Because I’m the bad guy, right?”

He presses his thumb against your clit once more when you’re silent. “Right? Answer me.”

You speak through gritted teeth, “Right.”

He nods, once, like he’s pleased with your response before he’s slowly, agonizingly slowly, pulling his hand free from your suit. The blade comes with him and you watch, in horror and embarrassment, as he raises his hand to examine it.

Despite the dark city sky, and the way he’s holding it so damn close to your faces, you see it; the wet sheen coating his thumb. In fact, the way it’s completely soaked the fabric.

Dex watches the way your face contorts.

You’ve been caught and you both know it.

His grin turns wolfish.

“Seems you enjoy me after all,” He taunts, peeling his eyes away from his hand so he can meet your own.

You open your mouth as if to deny it, to deny him, but Dex is moving before you can.

RIIIIIP!!

You gasp as the greying blond hooks his blade in your suit and tears along the fabric, completely exposing your cunt to the night air.

“Poindexter!” You snarl, but it’s cut off when he suddenly shifts, the hand that was once placed firmly beside your head now hooking into your hair. He’s still braced on his elbow, but the grip on your hair is painful as he forces your head to the side. He pushes himself higher onto his knees, forcing your thighs apart before he’s settling beneath them again. Your hands fly up to grip his shoulders, claws extended and pressing into his flesh when suddenly-

Dex watches you gasp at the contact, eyes snapping open to meet his.

He’s pushed two gloved fingers into you, his palm snug against your cunt, the pad of his thumb pressing into your clit.

His eyes flick across your face, feeling somewhat drunk as he takes in your reaction. Your mouth falls open, brows drawing together, a soft gasp escaping you as realization dawns on you. It feels good, he knows it fucking feels good because you’ve been soaked since he started teasing you, and he can feel your cunt fluttering around his fingers as you try to adjust to him.

And he knows you fucking like it.

Dex knows you; your pride would never allow you to willingly give in to him. The rights and wrongs of heroes and villains and blah blah blah. But if he took it? If he pushed you over the edge? What then? You couldn’t feel guilty.

And he’d been watching you hope he’d push you over the edge since he’d met you. You couldn’t allow yourself to want, no no no-you were too busy. Too busy for a man, for sex, for anything with feelings. What if they got caught in the crossfire? What if they were used as bait? Heroes and their martyrdom. Didn’t you guys ever get tired of your own bullshit?

“That’s it,” It’s a whisper, a soft coo, as Dex feels your thighs flex around him, like you were trying to draw them together despite his knees keeping you spread open. He’d cut along the seam of your suit and left you completely exposed, and fuck he should have taken his god damn glove off so he could actually feel you, but your nails were digging into his shoulders despite his suit and he couldn’t afford to waste any more time. “Take it, just like that.”

He’s slow to move at first, watching the way your face contorts as he slowly draws his fingers out of you, before gently pushing them back in. His thumb stays pressed against your clit, ensuring he’s gently grinding his palm against you when he pushes his fingers back into you. You’re fucking soaking already, he can feel it through the material of his gloves, and he lets out a shakey breath because of it.

“D-Dex,” Your eyes flutter shut and the corner of Dex’s lip lifts at how broken your voice sounds. Yeah, he fuckin’ knew it. Knew you wanted him. Knew you were his.

“Yeah, that’s it,” He murmurs, letting his face drop closer to yours. His skin ripples with goosebumps as the tip of his nose ghosts along yours. He’d never been this close to you before. He could smell your sweat, your perfume, even your blood. His blood too, he realized, as he continued to finger you. “Just like that.”

Your face was contorting in pleasure, and Dex just about creamed his pants when you finally, finally, let a soft moan slip past your lips. Your hands were still on his shoulders, claws extended, and he grit his teeth as they continued to bite into his skin. He didn’t care though, didn’t care the way they’d likely scar his skin, especially since they were sinking into him because of he was making you feel good.

“Dex,” This time it was a sigh and he felt you lift your hips, meeting his gentle movements as he continued to work you open. He could feel your breath ghosting along his lips, his brow furrowed in concentration as he focused on your expression. Your eyes were screwed shut, brow scrunched, cheeks flushed-he had to make sure you felt good, that this was good, that this was perfect-

It had to be perfect.

He had to be perfect.

For you.

Dex’s grip in your hair tightened just a fraction, gently forcing your head back, exposing your throat. He watched your face contort in pleasure, mouth falling open once more, canines peeking past your lips.

Fuck.

His dick was straining against his pants, hips lifted above yours and aching for friction as he continued to touch you. He was still pumping his two middle fingers into you at a slower pace, gently curling them upwards and letting them drag along your walls as he pulled them out again, the fabric of his gloves proving to be an aid in your pleasure.

He needed to feel you. Fuck, he had to feel your fuckin’ cum on his hands, now.

Dex pulled himself from you for a moment, cursing himself when you mewled at the loss of contact, eyes flying open in confusion.

“W-wait,” You started, seemingly pulled from your reverie as Dex reached up to bite the fingers of his cum soaked gloves. He tore it from his hand with his teeth, letting it drop onto your chest before he was reaching back down between your thighs.

Still, it was like the trance had been broken.

“Wait, Dex-” Your voice was firmer this time, coherent, as your hands lifted from his shoulders. He was almost sad when your claws pulled away from the tender muscle. “This isn’t-”

You’d reached between the two of you to wrap your hands around his wrist, as if to stop him from touching you, but Dex’s bare hand was now smoothing up your thigh, his fingers gently smoothing along the seam of your pussy.

He heard the way your breath caught, felt the way your thighs tensed, and he hummed as he looked down at you. You looked fucked out and he’d barely even started.

“Isn’t what?” There was an edge to his voice as he spoke. He paused, pointer finger tapping lightly against your sensitive skin.

You were silent, eyes searching his, as if you were desperate to come up with anything. He saw your expression harden, saw the way your jaw set, recognized the defiant and fucking stubborn expression you always wore started to come back into play. Oh fuck no, not now, not when he finally had you. Not when he finally had you making real noises, unlike all those other guys.

He leaned forward until his nose was against yours, eyes half lidded as he stared down at you.

“Tell me this isn’t right,” He murmured, and you nearly shivered when his hair fell against your forehead as he spoke. “Tell me you don’t want this.”

Defiance and anger rose within you like untamed beasts, but you couldn’t help the way the terrible, awful ache in your gut and the wet, desperation in your cunt seemed to overrule everything within you.

Dex smirked. “That’s what I thought.”

He was pushing two, thick fingers back into you then, pride and hunger surging within him as he felt you gasp beneath him. The difference in texture as his bare fingers pumped in and out of you was euphoric, even more so for him. He could actually, finally, fucking feel your pussy and how wet you were as he continued to touch you, feel how tight and warm you were, and how your cum was soaking his palm.

Dex’s hand tightened in your hair as he forced your head back, exposing your neck to him as he pushed himself deeper. He kept the heel of his palm pressed snugly against your aching cunt, grinding it into you as he curled his fingers inside you. Your reaction was instant, a loud cry escaping you as your hands flew to his arms for grip. Dex hissed when your claws sank into his biceps, canines dragging along your throat as he began to work you towards your first orgasm.

“Look at you,” He sounded wrecked atop you. “Pretending you don’t want me. That you don’t need me.”

You were a mess beneath him now, thighs trembling, hips stuttering at his relentless pace continued, the onslaught of pleasure proving to be too much because no man had ever been able to touch you so well and so accurately. Soft, broken cries continued to escape you, pitiful whimpers, and fuck, his name sounded so good-

“Say it,” Dex’s face was suddenly above yours, his fingers curling, pushing, pulling. “Tell me you need me.”

Your brows drew together in confusion, cheeks flushed as you met his gaze. He looked borderline delirious, like a caged animal.

His thumb was suddenly pushing mean circles against your clit, grip tightening to a painful degree in your hair.

“Say it!” He snarled, and you felt hot, wet tears pool in your eyes at the overwhelming sensation.

“I-I need you!” It was broken, pathetic as you cried out. You were shaking, your impending orgasm creeping up within you in a way you’d never experienced before.

“Say my name when you say it,” Dex snapped and you cried out, tears spilling over your cheeks.

“Fuck, I need you, Dex! Dex, I need you, I need you, I need you-” You were delirious beneath him, crying out when you suddenly came all over his fingers. A long, low wail was pulled from you as Dex continued to work you through your orgasm, his pace brutal despite the way you were shaking beneath him.

Dex continued to pump his fingers into your fluttering cunt, only slowing when he realized you couldn’t handle it anymore. You were flushed, cheeks tear stained, and shaking beneath him. Dex couldn’t tear his eyes from your face, watching every shift and movement as you slowly came to. He still had two fingers tucked neatly into your soaking wet cunt, gently pulling his other hand free from your hair so he could run a thumb along your cheekbone.

You were slow to open your eyes, blinking softly up at him, warm despite the city air on the rooftop. Dex was staring down at you, pupils so wide it was startling, jaw working as he looked you over.

“What-what’re you-” Your voice was broken, exhausted as he slowly pulled his fingers free from you. You winced at the loss of contact, still feeling bleary and somewhat delirious as he gently dragged the soaking digits across your cheek bone. When he lifted his fingers up towards his face to inspect them in the dim light, they were pink with the mix of blood and cum. Dex regarded them for a moment before he was pressing them against his tongue. His eyes fell shut and he moaned softly, tongue swirling slowly, sinfully, around his thick fingers.

You swallowed loudly at the motion, pussy clenching softly despite having cum only moments before.

When Dex finally looked down at you again, it was predatory and dark.