#dex

benjamin poindexter, former fbi agent, veteran, and scarily-expert sniper, was in prison, said the TV. your heart stuttered in your chest when his picture filled the screen. blonde hair, hazel eyes, and a chiseled, scarred face. your hand snaked up to your neck, where the bruises had long faded from his strong fingers keeping you pinned against your bedroom floor. he had pressed a pistol gently to the side of your head, snugly in the spot just below your ear that dex refused to admit he wanted to mouth at. you could nearly feel the cool metal on your skin through his empty gaze in the mugshot.

you smirked at the sight of one particular scar on his neck, where you'd gotten him good. the TV switched to video of his arrest and your smirk got wider. you hadn't pressed charges against him after the incident, but this was satisfying enough.

you owed your life to matt murdock. you knew that. he jumped in at the last second, after having tracked dex across the city that night, and got the gun away from dex, away from you, and away from harm.

yet for some reason, when you really thought back to that moment, you couldn't shake the feeling that you weren't in any mortal danger in dex's hold.

you had put up a good fight — you really had — but he took you down in seconds. despite his hand gripping your throat hard enough to bruise, and the obvious threat of the firearm, there was something akin to curiosity in his eyes when you batted your pretty eyelashes up at him. rays of moonlight peeked through the blinds, casting harsh diagonal lines across his ruggedly handsome face. a face you'd seen a few times on the street or the subway, watching from afar, now that you thought about it. when the initial surprise wore off, you willed your wild heartbeat to slow, but it rejected this request at the starved twinkle in his stunning eyes.

"it's you," you gasped.

you...recognized him? dex short-circuited. his mind spun like a top.

your breath caught as his hold tightened on you. you remember the fear that shocked you at the question of whether he had a finger on the trigger. why even bother asking? the answer was yes, of course.

what you didn't know was that benjamin poindexter was doing his absolute best impression of a person holding it together. you, with your minty breath fanning over him, coming from between your soft, parted lips, with your favorite lip balm on them. he was there to kill you after stalking you for weeks, and now you were there, in his arms, pressed against him and the carpet. he should be pulling the trigger. but here he was, wondering what the lip balm tasted like on your sweet lips. dex let out a measured breath. and was that...desire? just there, in the flecks of green in his eyes?

"'s me," he spoke. you thought his voice would be confident, but it rasped, grating the way a gravel driveway might. desperate.

your fear seeped through you. it only emphasized your intoxicating scent: the salt from the sweat beading on your forehead; the layered notes of your perfume; the pheromones stirring beneath your soft skin. the fear mixed slowly with shame as you found your eyes flickering down to his lips.

dex inhaled sharply, tracking your movements. he should just do it. it's simple. pull the fucking trigger and be done with the mission, dex.

you made the situation oh-so-much worse when you drew one of your full lips between your teeth. he took a ragged breath and tried not to calculate the exact distance between your bodies: mere millimeters, if that. everything about you was warm and intoxicating. when was the last time dex was warm? he got lightheaded at the thought.

"what's your name?" you ask, voice shaking, not at all expecting an answer.

a beat passed as he considered you the way a predator would. a dangerous gleam reflected in his his haunting gaze.

"dex."

"you've been watching me," you realized.

"i have," dex answered steadily, carefully, like he was walking on eggshells, terrified of saying the wrong thing. as if this entire ordeal wasn't way past "the wrong thing" at this point.

"you're here to kill me."

"i am," he answered with that same guilty calm. he wouldn't meet your eye, but studied your face.

your stomach churned. you knew your work would get you in this type of trouble someday. you pissed off wilson fisk? this is what you got.

the clock on your night stand ticked the seconds away. otherwise, the charged silence and dex's clean, musky scent in the room suffocated everything else. this stranger was here to kill you and yet, his brows were pulled together, forming a crease on his forehead, like he was reconsidering. you were floored by the overwhelming urge to kiss him on the wrinkled, slightly damp skin...god, you were sick for that, right?

dex warily watched you swallow. he was nearly vibrating with the need to let out a single one of the tormenting emotions he was feeling, especially with how things were now that julie had left. the buzzing in his brain was building. he felt like a dog about to whine, begging to be pet.

without making any sudden movements, you engaged your core and lifted your hips just so, to grind with him gently. his eyes nearly bulged out of his skull, cheeks turning pink when he couldn't stifle the erotic moan that you pulled from him. the barrel of the gun had nodded off, no longer pressed directly to your skull. you grinned wickedly.

"already, baby?" you teased, of course, referring to the quivering erection dex was sporting.

for the life of him, he didn't know what to do. dex was so mortified, he wanted to crawl inside himself and never show his face ever again. the tips of his ears were a shade of deep maroon. equally shameful was how fucking turned on he was by the whole endeavor, down to simply finding you beautiful in the early days, now to this. it took every ounce of self control in his body to wrestle back his appetites before they slipped free from his grasp.

"fuck you," he spat. anything to cool the burn of your rejection. you brushed it off with a chuckle and it only infuriated him more. the corners of your mouth curved upward in a knowing smirk.

"yeah?" you mocked, tilting your head to the side. "you wanna?"

"knock it off, you fucking brat." dex thrust his hips forward, pinning you both to the floor beneath. he stole the wind from your lungs and tore a moan from deep within your chest. humiliation flared instantly.

and then the motherfucker had the audacity to laugh. your nostrils flared in irritation. "sorry, sweetheart. you make fun of me for getting desperate but i get you down here and its..." he took a grounding breath. "well, it's the pot calling the kettle black, here, angel, isn't it?"

"shut the fuck up," you sighed, digging your fingernails deeper into the jumpsuit fabric covering his bicep as punishment. dex sighed too, trying his damnedest to mirror your movements as to not spook you away. he invited the pain from your nails — found it familiar — as something to tie himself to.

he bound himself to your degrading words. he bound himself to the gasp you let out when he rolled into you again; to the feeling of your warm body against him; to the view of you beneath him. dex felt himself becoming obsessed in real-time. it was intoxicating.

you were dizzy for a similar reason, but you'd never admit it, quite literally with a gun pointed at your head. shame cooked low and slow in your core. you had only intended to tease him, to knock him off his game. never did you think you'd like it. heaven forbid. nor did you think he'd be so responsive and...big against you.

you got the distinct impression that if you were to ask, dex would gladly manhandle you in this position onto the bed. to even consider it was horrible...right? to want it was...

"are you gonna kill me tonight, dex?" your voice was barely above a whisper.

dex groaned like he was in pain, leaning down to nuzzle your cheek. "'m still thinking about it, honey, mkay? it's complicated. just...just let me think a second, hold on."

you nodded fervently. he was weighing his options. at this time, you had to weigh yours, too. was it clinical? to want to fuck your stalker? had to be. he's threatening your life, you fucking idiot.

dex's breath came in hot pants against you, his strong nose pressing into the soft skin of your face. yes, this was reckless. dumb, perhaps. if you didn't have so much damning evidence that he wanted you, maybe you could have just acted like a normal person and cried and begged for your life.

by the time matt — a dear friend — had swooped in and saved the day, you were certain that dex wouldn't kill you. he'd thrown something haphazardly after you once matt got him a safe distance away, but you couldn't tell anyone that, least of all matt. by god, how could you begin to explain?

"no, matt, he wasn't going to kill me. what was he doing here? he was here to kill me. but don't worry! he changed his mind!" is that what your line was?

as for exactly how dex changed his mind, you'd blame it all on the lack of oxygen getting to your brain from being choked.

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years went by and benjamin poindexter wondered if you were the same. he wondered if your smile lines had deepened; if you had changed your hairstyle; if you still smelled like an autumn evening. his leg bounced up and down in anticipation. the bus was nearly there.

calm and collected, dex got off the bus and went into the nearest thrift store he could find. after ditching the prison guard outfit in the nearest garbage bin, dex popped the tags off his new hoodie and sweatpants. thank you, goodwill.

in no time, he was off with a spring in his step, headed uptown to the cafe you spent most of your saturdays in. sometimes when he had a particularly awful saturday, he daydreamt of sitting beside you here.

despite being the most wanted person in new york city, dex passed through midtown without issue, with his head down, weaving in and out of people, like any other annoyed, overstimulated new yorker. because of course it was raining. he'd memorized the map to this cafe so many times that his feet took him there without much thought, even after all this time. the thought brought a rusty smile to his lips.

the cafe sign came into view and dex's steps slowed. he clenched his fists repeatedly, trying to keep his breathing steady. he could do this. he could talk to you.

he spotted you instantly: in the back corner as always, nose deep in a book, leg swung over the side of an armchair like a cat. you cradled a mug against your chest, cuddling against its warmth. you looked so cozy. dex let some very specific memories wash over him as he stood there, pretending to read the menu.

"fuck it," he said to himself. dex took a breath and steeled his reinforced spine, eyeing the armchair next to yours. he sat himself in it and grinned wildly at you.

"oh, um, hi," you greeted without looking, a smile on your eternally-pretty face, nose still in your book.

this stranger said your name in a voice that haunted your dreams and you froze. your blood ran cold. your eyes peeked over the edge of your book while your heartbeat was a stereo in your ear, and you met a set of fierce hazel eyes that you'd remembered all too well.

"hear me out," dex begged your name. it was quite the pleasant sound, you had to admit. he must have seen the horror on your face. "jus' wanted to let you know that i'm gonna be coming by tonight at eleven. want to apologize…for what i've done. gonna knock three times on the window, mkay?"

your stomach dropped, and your mug almost did as well.

"w-what?"

"'m home now." ben's cheek scars flexed as he smirked devilishly. "thought i'd come pay you a visit."

"you've already paid me enough visits," you spat with disdain.

"ouch, sweetheart, that hurts," dex softly mocked as he fake-cradled his arm. he leaned in low, lips right next to your ear. "i know you remember what happened last time."

you sat up abruptly, closing your book with a thump. dex caught your drink before it spilled, setting it down on the table beside you gently. you didn't have time to be grateful, instead doing your best not to look panicked to everyone else.

"really not tryna hurt you," he murmured. "i swear."

and with that, dex stood up and strolled to the door, exiting left and disappearing into the manhattan crowd outside.

by the time eleven o'clock had rolled around, your stomach was in anxious knots. you picked at the skin by your fingernails as you tried anything and everything to distract you: your favorite TV show, that book from earlier, etc. none of it could keep your mind from racing.

could you trust his word? probably not.

but something about the earnestness in his eyes was haunting. and he had chosen to spare your life before.

you were not entirely surprised when the tri-knock came at exactly 11:00:00 PM. it was your bedroom window, as you knew it would be. the same one he used to break into your home the night he tried to kill you all those years ago. the knock sent a thrill down your spine. you were frozen in place by it and its implications.

only after you took a shaky breath, and dex knocked thrice again, you scurried over to the window to unlock it. dex stepped into your bedroom and exhaled, smiling. he caught your watchful eye and clamped down his slight display of emotion. but he had to admit that it was nice to be back here again, surrounded by you.

shutting the window and blinds, you sat on your bed criss-cross applesauce, and so dex did the same beside you. your posture was razor-straight, rigid. he liked that about you. among many other things, now that he let his gaze drift over you.

he met your glare. "i'm so sorry…for trying to kill you. fisk made me."

your jaw dropped. "that's it?"

dex straightened, adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. your hand landed on his knee. "w-what are you doing?"

you chuckled, inching closer to him with your hand resting softly on his thigh now. "i think i deserve a better apology than that, benjamin."

"you want me to beg?" dex asked lowly, pressing his nose to your neck, inhaling your perfume. part of you ached at the thought. "i'll beg for you, baby. i'll do anything for you."

your fingers gripped his thigh with authority, or maybe it was desperation. "tell me how sorry you are."

"fuck," dex panted. "'m so sorry, sweetheart, i never really wanted to hurt you. you're so good. too good for me."

"you purposely missed at the end — when you threw those pens — didn't you?"

a smirk slid across his pink lips. "i plead the fifth."

you laughed. you actually belly-laughed, and knowing he'd been the source, seeing the twinkle in your eye, ben poindexter could die a happy man.

"just wish i could make it up to you," he whispered, eyes pleading, like a sad retriever.

"dex—" you inhaled sharply when his lips gently attached to the delicate spot of your neck and began suckling. on instinct, your hand on his thigh began to move higher and desire began to pool in your core. dex swatted your hand away and moved to lay between your legs.

your mind was spinning with the wrongness of it all. never mind if he hadn't wanted to hurt you, what about all of the other things he'd done? what about—

dex's quest began with taking off your fuzzy socks and sensually kissing up the insides of your calves. you could think of nothing else with his lips on your skin, leaving trails of fire in his wake. he relished in the taste of the scented lotions and oils that were part of your nighttime routine — they hadn't changed. he reached your pajama shorts and hesitated, looking up at you.

permission? you could have laughed at the absurdity, but you found yourself nodding with anticipation instead.

dex made quick work of your bottoms, exposing your lower half to the cool air of your room and his greedy gaze. with no time to waste, dex's lips teased your inner thighs and vulva for an unbearably long time before he pressed a sloppy kiss to your leaking pussy. the whine that ripped out of your chest was pornographic in nature, and dex giggled like a kid at christmas.

"yeah, you like that, pretty girl?" he teased, tongue swiping your juices off his lips like it was sacred.

"dex, please," you begged. for friction, for some kind of release, for anything at this point. shame tinted your cheeks a shade darker.

he groaned into your pussy, tongue working on your lips, until he finally paid some mind to your aching clit. you weren't shocked that he found it so easily: he was bullseye after all. but the pleasure from his lips wrapping around it was euphoric. your back arched away from the bed, so dex's arm slid beneath you. a smile touched your lips when you realized this was his attempt at closeness.

"so fucking wet…just for me," dex muttered to himself, possession taking root.

his tongue prodded your clit with perfect precision. oh yes, he noted each and every one of your honeyed sighs and rolling shudders. dex learned your body language so well he had you coming undone on his tongue in seconds. your legs shook as you rode your way through it, moaning and mewling.

dex thought he'd never seen anything so beautiful in his life.

your fingernails scratched his scalp just right when you ran your fingers through his hair like that. he purred like a cat beneath your touch.

dex left open-mouthed kisses along your sensitive cunt, lazily lapping up your cum. "pussy tastes so good, baby. i knew it would."

you whined at the praise. "yeah? you think about me?"

a wicked grin appeared on his frustratingly handsome features. a thick finger pressed at your entrance. he gazed up at you, light-headed, waiting for your permission again. but you wanted an answer first.

dex whimpered, avoidant. "think about you every fucking day, alright?"

a beat of silence passed between you two.

"you're the only good thing i have."

your heart broke at his admission. there weren't any sort of words to convey what you were feeling. you reached down for him, your kind hand cupping his trembling jaw. you beckoned dex to settle between your legs at eye-level, and you laid a soothing kiss on his horizontal cheek scar.

next, you kissed his swollen lips. they were just as soft as you thought they'd be. he tasted of mint and you. your tongue dipped into his damned mouth and dex moaned as you explored him, grinding his clothed erection into your pussy. you kissed him hungrily, pulling at his hoodie, anything to get him closer.

dex nearly ripped his sweatshirt off, and you decided to take your top off too. he choked on air at the sight of you, eyebrows raised. you tugged his pants down so you were both naked and he could have died on the spot.

"please," he croaked.

"i know, baby," you cooed, cradling his cheek. you brushed your lips over his and he sighed in contentment, gripping your waist for stability. dex sat down, hand held out to you in invitation to join in his lap, and you accepted.

he kissed you like a man starved, with feverish, hungry lips and too much teeth. you didn't mind. he reached down between your bodies once again in question, fingers just barely dancing over your dripping cunt, before you were nodding and dex was slipping them in. the stretch of his calloused digits was delicious. dex's head fell like a dead weight against your neck and laid kisses there.

"f-fuck, dex, just like that, please," you insisted, voice high and sharp.

he had two fingers pumping in you while his ruthless thumb worked your clit, already nearing you to orgasm once more. his fingers curled toward him, reaching that spongy part of your insides. your breath hitched as you clenched tighter on him.

"mm, right there, honey?" he teased, gaining confidence now that your moans had become considerably louder. dex increased the pressure on your clit, drawing flawless circles.

"yes, please!" you were putty in his hands and you both knew it.

he chuckled erotically beneath your earlobe, occasionally biting it. "want me to make you cum again, pretty girl?"

you nodded, embarrassed, chewing your lower lip.

dex tsk-ed in disapproval. "words, baby."

"please make me cum again, dex," you sobbed.

the words made dex pause, bathing in the feeling of being needed, his eyelids fluttering shut in pleasure. he grinned like a maniac against your smooth skin.

"don't worry, doll, i will." he peppered tender kisses to your throat as he resumed fingering you. the relief almost made your knees go out and you subconsciously leaned further into his large frame.

"feels so good," you whispered. "don't stop. please don't stop, oh god."

dex grunted, nodding slightly. he kept his pace, pushing his long fingers in and out as you made a mess all over his hand. it was a mess benjamin poindexter sincerely didn't mind.

"'m gonna…" the muscles in your core pulled taut as orgasm washed over you once again. you collapsed against dex, who caught and cradled you as your legs continued to ruthlessly shake.

"that's it, good girl," he grumbled, planting a kiss on top of your head as you lay on his chest.

it took you a few moments to recover from the aftershocks before you lifted your head enough to catch his eye. your saccharine smile made dex melt on the spot. you traced his jaw absentmindedly, admiring his handsome, scarred face.

"thank you," you said bashfully, smothering your shame by capturing dex's lips in a lingering kiss.

"you are very fucking welcome," dex replied with a laugh, kissing you passionately. his fingers slipped out of you and you took an interrupting sharp breath, wincing slightly. "i know, baby, 'm sorry."

"'s okay," you reassured, readjusting your position on his lap. his erection brushed your soaked core and you both sighed.

dex smirked like the devil, bringing his juicy fingers up to your pouty, puffy lips. you opened wide for him, sucking his digits with hollowed cheeks. you tasted your syrupy coating on him and moaned, looking dex square in the eye as you did so. his mouth fell open as you licked his fingers clean, big eyes staring up at him, straight out of one of his fantasies.

when you were finished, you released him with an exaggerated pop! of your sinful lips. but your mercy ended there as you started to kiss along the side of his neck. dex was lightheaded.

you reached between you and gathered some slick from your pussy onto your fingers, then wrapped them around dex's girthy, veiny cock. he threw his head back and let out a choked moan of your name. he throbbed in your hand, length growing as you stroked him with each flick of your pretty wrist.

but as much fun as it would have been to tease him all night, that wasn't what you wanted right now.

you released your grip, positioning him against your cunt instead. dex couldn't breathe.

"not gonna last long, honey," dex confessed honestly, eyes flickering over you in hunger and insecurity. you nodded in understanding. he was in prison for nearly a decade.

you leaned forward and kissed dex slow and sweet, as you gradually sank onto his length, inch-by-inch. his leaky cock stretched you open to perfection as you swallowed each others' moans.

"hng, fuck, s-sweetheart, so fucking wet 'n tight for me."

you nodded with fervor, whines slipping from your beautiful lips, desperate to please him. "just for you."

dex shuddered, cock throbbing inside you. he wanted to scream that you couldn't just say things like that to someone like him, but he lost the willpower when he bottomed out inside you. your gorgeous eyes rolled back as his tip kissed your cervix. you steadied a warm hand on dex's left cheek and he nuzzled into your touch, as you began to build a fixed rhythm of your hips. his hazel eyes bore into yours with intensity and he rocked his hips against yours in tandem. he truly never wanted to leave this moment.

the only sounds that filled the room were the obscene schlucks of your pussy as you rode dex and the feral moans that the two of you coaxed from each other. your unoccupied hand ended up intertwined with dex's much larger one, fingers interlaced.

he took one of your nipples into his mouth, biting and suckling. the pain-pleasure mix sent a fresh wave of heat down to your core and you moaned uncontrollably with your bottom lip sucked between your teeth. the noise encouraged dex, who was a mess of his own, to continue mouthing at your tits and fucking up into you. his breathing was ragged now, as he snaked his precise fingers down to your clit once more.

"yes!" you whined. "fuck me, baby, please. just like that."

dex grunted. "yeah, you like that, beautiful? like having me deep inside you like that?"

"mhm!"

"mm, 's what i thought. look so pretty taking me nice 'n fucking slutty."

you gasped, preening at his explicit praise. he smiled up at you like you were the sun in the sky, sweat beading on his temple.

the familiar knot of tension in your abdomen was building. you could feel yourself getting wetter, the glide of his cock having so little resistance it should have been blasphemy. dex's cheeks were flushed, his intertwined fingers sweaty, his legs trembling.

you maintained your steady pace, licking a stripe of sweat from the base of his throat to just below his ear. dex whimpered and it's the sexiest sound you'd ever heard.

"f-fuck, baby, 'm close," he warned, trying to compose himself. "pussy just feels t-too fucking good. so fucking good."

"it's okay, dex," you said, laying another sweet kiss to his lips. "it's okay."

and something about your tone of voice, coating the "it's okay"s like honey, told him he was safe in your arms, and sent dex straight over the edge in hysterics. he crashed his lips into yours like a desperate teenager. you found it oddly charming, smiling against him. he moaned pathetically into your mouth, murmuring nonsense praise, while his cum spilled deep into you. his cock pulsed as your overstimulated pussy milked him dry.

your climax hit you violently at the sight of dex's red-rimmed, teary eyes. you wondered just how long his body had been deprived of that. you clung to him, trembling, as you rode out your high, leaving a juicy white ring around his cock that dripped onto his balls below. you were still holding hands — the grip suffocating.

you turned dex's gaze to yours and languidly licked up his tears. it almost made dex cry more — your kindness — but he methodically slowed his breathing with every bit of will power he had. and then you were kissing him and his cock was twitching inside you and he was dizzy all over again, but he was exactly where he wanted to be. his mind was dead silent.

you would figure out the mechanics of this tomorrow. for now, you were falling asleep with dex buried balls-deep inside you.

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a/n: hello again from the ether!! my goodness this was fun to write. sry it took so long to my lovely requester, since i wanted to give it my all, i took my time! i would suck this man dry à la capri sun. like mouth is actively watering. ugh. every day i wake up and thank god for wilson bethel.

i've decided to make this an ethel cain series because i think that fits dex horrifically well sometimes lolll

as always, pls lmk your thoughts! and as always, asks and requests r opennnnn!

xoxo, b

he in turn holds you close, large hands settled on your waist — grip directing your winds and grinds over his aching cock. the inners of his thighs hook at the outers of your own, legs bent and pressure firm as if to keep you close, close as humanly possible with his lounged position against the headboard.

your grip intensifies around the lower of his face, and it's then your thumb and fingers dip further into the hollows of his — pressure making his lips part against yours. his breath is ragged against you, pants hot and desperate in a way that matches your own. 

you itch in slightly and brush your lips over his. though you don't connect them, instead they ghost his, mouth agape as he swallows the gasps he earns from you with each pump he fucks up into you with. each upward wind making you splutter on choked-out whines.

with your mouths merely connecting, you swipe your tongue over his bottom lip and then nip at it, latching on lightly. you hold it between either set of your teeth, tugging on it with the most gentle of pressure. he chuckles, noise low and lewd while his pawing tightens around your waist, his grasp growing with extremity. desperate hold guiding you down on onto the cock he dicks up inside you.

you release your toothed hold from his bottom lip and press a kiss to where you had momentarily bitten into, giving him something slightly sweet and heartfelt. though your kisses drift from his bottom lip and teeter outwards, reaching his cheek. pointing your tongue, you trace over his scar — trailing the joined fusion of skin. haste non-existent.

but that's short lived and you soon feel absence grow around your upper hips. 

instead, he places them around your neck, one on the side, one nearing the back as he directs you to meet his eyes once more. he's mindful as he tugs you, thick fingers encompassing the base of your throat like it was no effort at all. he lowers you down, making you meet his lips so he can speak against them. 

"you're my dream girl," he utters, voice low and gruff. it sounded honest. or as honest as you believe dex to be capable of.

"yeah?" you hum, smiling against his lips.

the hand around the back of your neck itches upwards, fingers swirling at the root of your hair at the base of your neck. and it's then that he gives it a considerate tug. his hold like an effort to keep you close, to keep you right there.

"yeah," dex affirms, eyes cast up at you — gaze heavy and wanting. He nips at his own lip, it's like a redirectional effort for the slipping self-control, you believe.

his hands snake from their placement and pause at the either side of your face, grasp encompassing your head within two of his very thick hands. he retains your position and itches up to meet your lips; the connection rough and sort of desperate as deep breaths muffle between from either one of you.

your winds grind to a gradual halt when you feel dex's hips still beneath you, the motion of his upward fucking ceasing completely. you pull back to look over him, like it was to question the reasoning for such a sudden stop. though by the time you're able to figure out what his expression meant, he's pushing you backwards, grip firm on you as he repositions with you — cock still plugged inside you. 

he lays you down, pushing you back just under 180 degrees so the position you're each in is the same, only reversed. he's on top, like how you were only a mere moment ago.

his hands have since retracted from the sides of your face and one instead finds itself anchoring your pinned wrists into the mattress, his hold keeping your interlocked pinkies above your head. though the other has situated itself at the top of your throat, just under your jaw. he angles your face, making you look him in the eye as he rebuilds the pattern of thrusts from before. each one grows, and a system of deep and equally strategic pumps fall into place. 

dex keeps his eyes cast down on you below, gaze focusing on your growing fucked-out expression — the one that he's a direct cause of. and it's then that he nods down at you, encouragement building across his features as he gives your lower cheek a few light taps. ones that were again, some means of encouragement.

his thumb slips aside and reaches for your mouth, and it's there that he hooks onto your bottom lip, tugging on it slightly so as to keep your gasping mouth agape. he leans in nice and close, lips brushing past yours as he spits between them, laying saliva on your tongue for you to swallow. 

"attagirl," he coos against your parted lips, eyes as smitten as he can manage. "attagirl."