maris tumblr

“Can you just stop talking for one second?!”

The words hit harder than they should have.

You froze in the kitchen doorway, still holding the glass of water you’d brought him.

Dex stood near the table, shoulders tight, breathing uneven. There were dark circles under his eyes, his FBI jacket half-unzipped, hands trembling faintly from exhaustion. He’d barely slept in two days. Barely eaten. Every muscle in his body looked wound too tight.

But the second he saw your face—

He broke.

“No—”

The anger vanished instantly, like someone ripped it out of him.

His expression collapsed into horror.

“No no no…”

The glass shook slightly in your hand as Dex stumbled toward you too fast, panic flooding his features.

“I didn’t mean that.” His voice cracked immediately. “I didn’t—I wasn’t yelling at you, I just—”

He swallowed hard, eyes already watering.

You’d seen dex kill a man without blinking.

But this?

This destroyed him.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, quieter now. Desperate. “Please don’t look at me like that.”

You hadn’t even realized you looked hurt until he said it.

Dex grabbed both sides of his head like he was trying to physically stop himself from unraveling.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated shakily. “I’m so fucking tired and everything’s loud and I—I took it out on you and I swore I’d never do that.”

His breathing became uneven.

Then the tears started.

Not dramatic nor manipulative. Just terrified.

He looked at you like he genuinely believed one wrong move would make you leave.

“Please say something,” he whispered.

The glass barely made it onto the counter before he caught your wrists carefully, almost afraid you’d pull away.

“I didn’t mean it,” he kept saying, voice breaking more each time. “I don’t want to hurt you. I would never hurt you.”

“Dex—”

“I know what I sound like when I lose control—I didn't mean it I swear” A tear slid down his face and he looked furious at himself for it. “I know what I am when I get like this.”

Your chest tightened.

Because beneath the exhaustion and panic, there it was—

Fear.

Not fear of being alone.

Fear of becoming someone dangerous to you.

Dex lowered his head suddenly, gripping your hands tighter.

“I’m trying so hard,” he said quietly, crying now without even hiding it. “I’m trying so hard to be good with you.”

That did it.

You pulled him into you immediately.

His entire body jerked in surprise before he folded against you like he was holding himself together by threads alone. One arm wrapped around your waist so tightly it almost hurt while the other covered his face.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled against your shoulder over and over again. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

You ran your fingers through his hair carefully.

“You scared me for a second,” you admitted softly.

Dex let out a broken sound that was halfway to a sob.

“I know.”

“But I’m not leaving.”

He went still.

Then he finally looked at you, eyes red and wet, like he didn’t quite believe what he heard.

“You’re not?”

You shook your head gently.

Dex stared at you for a long moment before pressing his forehead against yours, breathing shakily.

“Don’t be nice to me right now, slap me, punch me...” he whispered painfully. “I don’t deserve it. You're being too kind to me.”

Your thumb brushed under his eye.

“Good thing I decide that. Not you.”

For the first time all night, his shoulders finally loosened.

Only a little.

But more than enough.

"dex, you're hurting me.." you whisper, voice stretched out and thin from the effort of keeping yourself suspended over him

"sorry, i didn't- i didn’t mean to" dex stutters, his words cut sharp with the nervous edge, sweat dripping down his panicked and reddened face as he settles his hands on your hips once again, trying to ground himself

the thing is, he did mean it, but he sure as hell wasn’t gonna reveal something like that so soon

not when you're both nervous wrecks, inexperienced nervous wrecks

but that doesn't stop you both from recklessly seeking out the mind bending pleasure that seems to be just within reach with every time your center swallows down another inch of him

"just- just the tip.." you sigh, mostly for your own sake, because the impulse to just take him completely in one go is begining to cloud your judgement, you know if you were to do that the sting would be unbearable, but at the same time, just having dex under you, looking at you reverently in a way he’s never done before, its all making unbearable heat coil inside you "please- need to get used to it" you say to out loud, addressing him as well as yourself

"yeah, fuck! of course- just the tip" dex echoes with a nervous laugh, his mouth tilting sideways even though at this point theres a big possibility he might just sob unconsolaby if he doesn't get to feel you fuck him into his very couch

when you slowly, very slowly start to sit firmer on him he nearly chokes, his eyes scrunch shut and he curses, something that makes you smile endearingly at him

but then-

"ooh shit!!!!!!!" you hiss at the sting in response to dex’s hips lifting up instinctively in an eager and mindless attempt to chase when you tried to pull up from him again, the movement makes him nudge far deeper than you were prepared for, with far more precision that was is considered fair for someone who is supposed to be a virgin

it knocks the air out of you completely, you tumble and have to brace yourself by his shoulders to make sure you dont completely undo your work in one swift fall on top of him "dex, oh my god- you cant do that-"

dex lets his head drop back aggressively, his eyes clenched shut, lips turned inward with a frustrated mmph sound to keep him from whining like a spoiled little boy

he nods and nods fervently because yes of course, that was his bad but at the same time his mouth quirks upwards, the sounds you made stroked his ego far more than you could imagine

all I can think about is how much he loves pleasing you, dex just wants to make you feel good! you're his everything and making you feel good is always first priority to him, even when he is being selfish.

dex could spend HOURS laid between your legs, having them wrapped around his head as you pull on his hair. hearing you moan brings him a whole new level of pleasure - one that has him thrusting into the bed and nearly cumming in his pants like a damn teenager.

he lays you down on the bed and lifts your legs around his neck just like he likes, kissing down your stomach as you whine. "slow down, angel. you'll get it, be patient, okay honey?" the smirk that danced across his face made you nod and pull him back to your lips. "I know sweetheart, gonna make you feel so good."

dex pulled away from you and left a trail of open mouthed, wet kisses down your body from your neck to your mound. he was always soft at first - always eased into it for you because he knew how intense it made you feel. he placed a kiss to your clit and licked a straight line up your pussy before he pulled away and made eye contact with you.

"taste like fucking heaven, angel." he said before diving back in between your legs.

dex ate like a man starved.

his hands clutched at your thighs, a hold strong enough to leave marks, he wanted to be as physically close to you as possible and remove all space between you. your hands clutched his hair as his tongue dived into your pussy and you moaned loudly which only made him chuckle into you. he loved getting this reaction from you.

making you feel good made him feel good!

as he manoeuvred his tongue in a way that had you gasping for air, his nose nudged your clit with every lick and you basically screamed his name. when dex opened your eyes (wanting to see you welling up at how good you felt) he was met with your eyes screwed tight and head thrown back.

"angel, wanna make you cum on my tongue but need your eyes on me, yeah?" you instantly opened your eyes and met his gaze. dex smirked at the glossy look over your eyes. "attagirl, eyes on me okay? take them off and I won't let you finish."

"no, dex, please! please promise 'm so good-"

"I know sweetheart I know, so be really good for me, okay? eyes on me all the time."

when he dived back in, dex didn't close his eyes to revel in the overwhelming pleasure he was getting from eating you out. maintaining eye contact with you, watching you tear up and beg for him as your face contorted and you grinded your hips against his face. that gave him more pleasure than anything he had ever experienced before.

his tongue pulsed inside of you as you whimpered. you never once broke eye contact from him. hands pulling at his hair, moaning aloud. you drove him wild. dex moved his tongue to your clit to focus on making you cry from pleasure and curled three fingers inside of you which had you fighting to keep your eyes open. he knew straight away from the way your lip wobbled and whimpers left your throat. you were trying to keep eye contact with him so hard and dex knew that, you were going to be rewarded for it.

he felt you growing tighter as you began to helplessly grind your hips against his chin and your fingers clutched his hair. "dex, 'm gonna-"

"I know angel girl I know, cum for me, yeah?" dex nodded before diving back into your pussy.

his fingers worked harder as he sucked on your clit and you cried out from the pressure. you couldn't stop grinding down on him when the pressure in your lower belly finally built up and came tumbling down. he loved coaxing your orgasms out of you, watching when you lost control of yourself and began to cry from pleasure. the way your thighs trembled when you came was something that made him beg to the universe that he wouldn't cum in his pants from knowing he did a good job.

as you breathlessly whimpered and collapsed back on the bed, dex smirked to himself and placed a final kiss to your clit before climbing back up your body and brushing your hair back from your face so he could see all of your features. your blush tinted cheeks, your blood shot eyes.

"hey sweetheart, you with me?" his voice echoed through your ears and you nodded weakly as he pulled you into his grip. "there she is, ready to go again?"

"dex I need...need five minutes." you laughed weakly when he kissed you softly.

You’re in your room, in your apartment, laying on your belly in your bed staring at his body like you’ve never seen a half naked man before. He’s freshly showered, blue towel tied around his thick waist and fuck, you don’t know what to do with all that.

It’s strange for Dex. He’s become more confident after prison, this is true. He’s gotten attention, but nothing permanent, nothing that made him feel like it was anything more than transactional.

And he’s not lost on the fact that you ogle and it makes him feel appreciated, so he thought nothing of walking out like this when you told him he needed to get all the blood and grime off of his skin before even touching your pink sheets.

Which, he was going to do anyways and you knew that, but he lets you act bossy sometimes cause you think it’s fun. And he finds it funny.

First time spending the night together, and you’re not letting him off easy.

You’ve already told him to use your body wash so he’d smell sweet and how amusing you found the idea of Bullseye lathering himself in vanilla scented soap.

Your relationship is new enough that this is not a regular occurrence as much as he quietly yearns for it to be, but not so new that he doesn’t know where you keep your shoes when you take them off as soon as you walk into the door, or where you keep the gun he insisted on buying you since you’re a woman living alone and have that one sketchy neighbor, or what clothes are in each drawer of your nightstand.

Or what the inside of your apartment looks like, the square footage of each room and what year you bought the place. The width of the kitchen cabinets and the previous owners current address just in case he came across a hidden camera or something of the sort. You know, normal stuff.

The connection you have with Dex has been rooted so deep, that the more overtly physical stuff hasn’t even really mattered. Has he touched himself, spit in in his palm and stroked his cock thinking about how you’d say his name when he’s so deep in you he’s touching your cervix?

Well, yeah.

Or how your panties might smell even though he felt genuinely guilty at the idea of stealing a pair? Cause sure he stalks but he’s not a creep.

But he knew you didn’t have a lot of experience in that department, couldn’t fucking believe it at first, but felt undeniably relieved that almost no one had you like that.

Selfishly, sickly, possessively.

But it makes sense that you didn’t let people in easily, your spirit is like sunshine spilling into a dark room, coloring your surroundings with a kindness he didn’t know existed as legitimately as it does with you. Course no one deserved you, of course you chose people wisely. Of course no one had been worthy of getting you so fully and completely like that in so long.

And how you chose him, how you’ve chosen him everyday for the past six months? He doesn’t know how to realistically wrap his head around it. Doesn’t know what he did in another life that was so goddamn good he got to spend even a fraction of his miserable fucked up life with you.

So yeah, it makes him feel things when you go a little slack jawed while looking at every ripple of muscle like it’s something to be devoured, got your gaze switching from his big arms to his abdomen and lower lower lower.

You really wish you could help it. But he’s got a body that’s put in work, and though you’d love to not make a man feel like he’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen - you can’t help it with Dex. Not when he’s this gorgeous, so adoring, so loving and spends almost every moment he has with you reminding you how he can never live without you.

And especially not when he’s two feet away and the towel is dangerously low, and the thick bulge underneath that towel is ever present, reminding you of what you haven’t seen or touched yet.

He shakes the water out of blonde his hair and onto your body, and it does exactly as intended. You squeal, shouting “Dex!” With exasperation that isn’t really genuine. Just enough of a juvenile thing to do that it breaks you out of your shell a little.

He chuckles to himself, finds it cute that you act as if he’s sprayed you with the shower head instead of flinging a few cold droplets. You wipe your forehead, and he steps closer until he’s at the foot of the bed. You sit up on your haunches so you can look at him face to face and not face to dick. You want to keep your composure at least a little.

“Rude, don’t do it again.” You frown, crossing your arms across your chest and his eyebrows lift and a stupid shit eating grin paints his handsome face.

“Oh yeah? Y’feelin brave then?” His voice is low and playful, he reaches out and wipes your cheek off. His hand is rough and warm and you keen into the touch like a kitten. His stomach fills with a familiar heat at such a small, innocent thing. God.

“Clearly not, you walked out half naked and now my knees are all wobbly.”

You say it out loud and so obviously because you don’t know what else to do about it. Truthfully, he really fucking likes that you said it that way. He admires your need to be honest even when it scares you a little. He’s jealous of it.

You also don’t realize how tantalizing, how maddening it truly is.

Don’t even know the power you have over him already.

He shakes the bashfulness off, though he can’t hide the heat staining his cheeks and neck.

“I got you, baby,” he says. And god that makes it so worse, cause now you feel that twinge of tension traveling from your chest to between your thighs. “nothin’ you gotta be scared of with me, you know that.”

You lock your eyes with his now, because it’s genuine and so full of trust you can’t look away even if you wanted to. It’s passing through you both like a power surge. A suddenly playful moment turning real, and candid within seconds even if that’s not what he inherently intended.

That’s just how it is with you and Dex

The intensity never really ceases.

He sees you stew this over in your mind, feels contentment in his bone marrow when you scooch a little closer on your knees and place your soft hands on his bare shoulders. Your touch makes him feel like a live wire, and sort of like he can finally breathe again.

“You’re just like…” you start, chewing on the inside of your bottom lip. He’s got this little smirk that he’s holding back, cocking head head but gentle in the eyes as if you tell you go on, say what you feel. “really beautiful and it’s distracting me.”

Yeah, he’s done for. He can’t even smile properly because those words are so foreign, and so completely you.

He casually cups your face and rubs two thumbs over your soft cheeks. It really does make him feel things - things he hasn’t felt in a long time. Things that didn’t mean what they mean now to him, what you mean to him. It’s the best fucking compliment in the world when it’s coming from your lips.

And would mean absolutely nothing coming from anyone else.

“Distracting you from what, sweetheart? Just you an me right now, there’s no one else to think about.”

You want to kiss him. You want to drag your hands along his trim body, feel him twitch and pant against you. The thought is burning your head, leaving a searing image in its wake - and it’s so real, so close. Because he’s right here in front of you, staring like he knows every thought that’s passing through your head. Like maybe he knows you better than you know yourself.

“C’mere.”

He grumbles, reaching around to cup the nape of your neck. He does it gently, pulling you into his mouth so slow and so careful. He’s exercising an unreal amount of self control, training himself to be gentle with hands that have done so much damage in their time.

The peck is soft, gentle. He doesn’t hold you there even though he’d like to. He lets you decide what you want to take from him. A soft sound leaves your mouth when you depart, going back in for more series of squelchy pecks. It’s his turn to hum low in his throat, you feel it vibrate through you.

And he can feel it in your movements, that you’ve tasted him and now you want more and he hopes you can feel it coming off of him too. He doesn’t want it to be scary, or nerve wracking. His thundering heart betrays his need to come off casual.

“Dex?” You murmur, starting the get cloudy in the head. He can hear it in your voice, in that sleepy way you peer up at him like you’re not fully controlled by conscious thoughts.

You’ve got this pseudo bravery that’s only here with you right now because he is, because he obliged when you told him it would be better for him to stay the night at your place since he’s in town. Because he’s made you feel so safe, so unbelievably understood.

If you knew the patience Dex exhibited with you, out of fear of scaring you off, or freaking you the fuck out, you’d probably have even more of a reverence. And not about sex, no, that’s not important to him.

But he’s never done this before. Never truly put another other person before his own wants and needs, and it feels foreign. But he’d do anything, anything for you. To keep you, to touch you, to protect you.

“Yeah, baby?” He asks, toying with your bottom lip with his thumb. The tips of his ears are going pink, and you feel his body heat radiating off of him like a furnace. You’re only separated by a few inches, not even.

He tilts your chin up when your head drops while you ask him the question, catching your eye. He can’t bear for you to be insecure, to feel even an ounce of trepidation with him.

“Would you…well, can I, touch you?”

God.

It goes straight to his dick, he feels the towel getting tighter around his waist. And he’s sure his pupils are blown out to hell. He can’t believe you feel the need to ask, but that’s just who you are.

“Course’ you can, sweet thing. Course’ you can.” His voice is so rough and so low now, emphasizing his permission. You get this pit in your gut, suddenly astonishingly aware of the fact that you can feel him completely and will and how you’ve been scared of intimacy with a person who wants nothing more than to have your hands on his body.

Your touch move from those big shoulders, and the first thing they instinctively drag over is his broad chest - his skin is hot, light body hair tickling your palms. His nerves are so reactive to your touch and he can’t help but watch you, every expression you have going on even while he feels raw and wired.

You’re concentrated, swallowing hard. They slide lower, past his sternum and over his rigid abdomen and the planes of muscle and tendon there. How they protrude, as if to say grab me, touch me.

You’ve got an awestruck look about you, and your hands feel so soft and gentle and good against him, he clenches his jaw so hard his teeth might shatter. He’s starting to feel lightheaded.

You stay here for a moment, rubbing up and down the valleys and dips. You grip his sides, till your thumbs are tracing the divots that point towards his manhood. You’re moving back up again with both palms against his sides, over his collarbones and then you’re squeezing his biceps with such a giddy look on your pretty face.

Like you’ve just realized for the first time that Dex truly is yours.

“Y’havin fun? Look at that smile.”

You snort, suddenly shy that you were making it that obvious, leaning into him completely and shoving your face in the crook of his neck - he feels all your softness against his body, your shirt a thin barrier between your pretty chest that’s smooshed against him. He smells fresh, clean, gourmand. You feel scruff against your ear, that same body heat intensifying. And since you’re pressed against him now, he instinctually wraps his arms around your frame. Holding you there firmly.

You think you hear a sigh of relief that perhaps he himself didn’t know he was holding onto.

You don’t know if it’s your heartbeat or his, thundering so loudly in your ear. He rubs slow circles over your back, wide palm a reassuring anchor.

You don’t do it on purpose, pressing your lips to that soft tender area underneath his ear. You can’t see it, but it makes his eyes roll back and flutter shut a little - your mouth is so soft, so warm. You do hear the hum that comes from his throat, though. And since your bodies are pressed together, yeah - you feel his dick twitch against your thigh where you previously somehow forgot it was there all together.

You don’t stop there, not after you’ve tasted him and heard and felt the reaction it gave him. Now you’ve got that deep seated need, and so you open your mouth a little wider, give him a genuine kiss over his carotid artery - and yeah, he tilts his head to the side for you, rolls it back when you start kissing and kissing, all the way to his Adam’s Apple.

Those big hands grip your hips a little bit harder, and the pressure of it makes you wonder what it would feel like to for him to grab you other places. How strong he really is, what his body can really do.

“Baby.” His voice is gruff.

He’s panting like a dog now, cause you’re starting to get a little feverish with your movements, got your tongue on his sharp jaw and then he’s grasping your face in his hands cause he can’t take it. He needs to kiss you.

He doesn’t mean to be rough, for the kiss to be bruising. You let out a soft, shocked whimper and he murmurs a “sorry, baby.” In a voice you’ve never, ever heard come from Benjamin Poindexter, just a register higher than it should be.

He slows down a bit when your tongues connect, warm and wet in each others mouths, his nose rubbing against yours. He takes your bottom lip and sucks on it, and your fingertips dig into his arms like you could be swept away at any second.

Now your hands are all in his damp hair, tugging and pulling and he loves it, bad. He lets out this terribly erotic groan, and a soft “yeah.” and you give him one right back. He departs only so you can breathe.

God, his lips are so kiss bitten. Pink and pretty and wet, and his big green eyes are low and pupils obsidian, like he’s on the prowl, starving. He wipes your mouth, holds your face firmly so he can look at you.

“Talk to me, tell me what you want.” He huffs, and you hate that he needs you to say it out loud. Can’t he feel you pushing yourself against his dick? Can’t he see how heavy you’re breathing and the pure desperation for him lit aflame in your gaze?

But you know he needs it.

“I…I want you, want you really bad Dexie. Why’d you stop kissing meeee?”

Oh, you’re getting whiny. Petulant. He takes his bottom lip between his teeth for just a second, tasting you again. He keeps one hand on the back of your neck and one just above your ass when he reclines you on the mattress.

You still can’t believe his towel has managed to stay on.

He’s got this fear, when he hovers on top of you, arms on either side of your head, your knees knocking his stomach before you spread them so you can rub your heels into the dimples of his back.

He’s worried it’ll be too much, that he’ll be too much.

See, he wants you just as bad. And of course he’ll take his time, of course he’ll be as gentle as you need him to be. Not even a question. But you’re already dialed up to 10, got this expression like you’re this hurt, innocent thing, all while squirming like the pressure between your legs is unbearable.

He kisses your face. Your cheeks, your forehead, letting you writhe like you’re tortured underneath him. It’s driving you mad, he knows that, but his cock is so hard it’s starting to hurt against the rough material of the towel and he can’t let himself feel you till he knows what you really want.

“S’not what I asked.”

You push at his big chest, pull at his shoulders. He doesn’t move from it, of course, but your fingernails are leaving streaks against his flesh and you finally just lock your legs around him and press him right between your legs.

“I want you to fuck me, if that’s okay with you.”

If that’s okay with you. He almost laughs, cause god you’re funny even when you’re not trying to be.

“Dirty mouth, tsk.” He says it to tease, kisses the tip of your nose when he says it. But you’ve still got that hazy lust clouding your eyes. He kisses you again, swallowing your whine.

“Yeah? You achey right here, baby?” He emphasizes by moving his hips side to side, abdominals flexing at his core, pressing his cloth covered cock harder against your flimsy pajama bottoms - and you gasp.

He would find it absurdly cute if he weren’t so fucking hard. So instead it just makes him throb.

You keep your hands on his waist of moving muscle, rutting yourself against his center, feeling the outline of his erection hot and heavy between your legs.

“Right there.” You pant back with an open mouth and bleary eyes. Everything about the moment is doing it for you. And not just the obvious, which is a 95% naked Ben with his big puppy dog eyes and a smirk that accentuates all the years he’s ever smirked, and his unfairly strong body. Just the dynamic that’s going on is making you sticky, leaking from your sex.

It’s doing it for him too. Cause now he’s kissing you with a desperation you didn’t know he had, making mmm, mmmm, noises into your throat while he does it.

“Want me inside? That what you want, pretty girl?”

Now it’s his turn to mouth at your neck, and you’re so so soft, and perfumed and the little bit of perspiration that’s gathered because of being worked up tastes so good on his tongue. He licks the divot of your collarbone, covers any expanse of skin he can see in open mouthed kisses.

“Yessss, please.” You beg. He pecks your chin, hating to pull away from you like this cause of course you sound pitiful when he does. He hooks his thumb underneath the towel and it falls off like it wasn’t somehow glued to him for 10 minutes straight.

You should’ve known, and maybe you did know. But Dex is big, it’s enough to be incredibly intimidated because not only is he a couple inches longer than average, but he’s thick. Heavy. Looks like it holds weight to it that your body can already picture feeling.

It’s pretty too. The tip is the same shade of his lips, a little smaller in width than the robust shaft and you’re honestly not surprised he manscapes, he’s always been particular- it’s neat, lightly colored, and framed where you want him most.

“I’m not the only one with starin’ problems.” He says, not predicting that you’d cover your face with your hands and try to suffocate yourself in the sheets. He grips your right ankle, shakes it before he crawls on top of you.

“Hey hey hey, just joking baby, don’t do that.”

You think you might burst at how sincerely sorry he sounds, grabbing your wrists with calloused fingers and prying them away from your eyes. When he turns you over and sees that you’ve got a big, goofy, ridiculous smile on your face - his heart settles back into his chest instead of the pit of his stomach.

You’re giggling.

“Scared me half to death, fuck, Thought I really hurt your feelings.”

You rub your palms against his scruffy face, touch his open mouth with your thumb.

“You did, asshole,”

He’s smiling goofy too, now. Kissing your wrist.

“just staring cause it’s so big.”

He knows this. He’s got eyes and he’s been told once or twice. Still, Dex doesn’t know what to do with being seen like that by you. Didn’t think about it until now.

Hearing you say it out loud, hearing the lilt of your voice and seeing your eyes rake down his body to stare at his manhood with big eyes - it strokes his ego like nothing else ever has. He sees the way you nibble on the inside of your lip again, though. Sees you calculating.

“I’ll take it slow’as you need, yeah?” He reassures, rubbing the sides of your thighs with heavy, comforting strokes. He wants to bite the flesh there, take it into his mouth, savor it.

“You know I trust you.” You pant back, and he knows you do. He can feel it in your body language, the way you’re opening your legs for him wider, like a lotus flower.

And you’re not so tense anymore, body not so rigid. You’re melting into him when he kisses you again - one big hand gripping your jaw gently. You’ve never been kissed like this before by anyone else. It’s intoxicating.

He pries your lips open, licks the inside of your mouth before beckoning your tongue with his own. He sucks it before pecking you again, languishing you with slow and sloppy pops and suckles.

“Fuck.” You whine, sexually frustrated in a way that you’re not sure has been experienced by anyone else ever because that’s how singular it feels, how maddening.

He departs to take a look at you, a good, long look. Hawk eyes trail over your body like it’s something reverent.

He tongues the inside of his cheek, takes in the way you’re panting and unable to keep still and swallowing hard. You’re so worked up from nothing, it’s making him feel dizzy and drunk with excitement.

“Can I take these off, sweetheart?”

You nod, followed by a verbal response cause he’s not gonna do it unless you say it.

“Yes.”

Two thumbs hook into the waistband of the silky shorts, and he’s taking your underwear with them when he starts shimmying them off of your soft hips. He even takes the time to graze your thighs and calves with his knuckles as he draws them down your legs.

He wants this to be good for you, the best. He’s proficient in all aspects, hits the target every single time.

Cool air breezes against your center, where arousal has made you slick. Dex is at your feet still, holding your ankles and trailing his calloused palm back up those same calves. He doesn’t even realize he’s licked his lips and has groaned deep in his chest. His senses are taking over, his desire, the thick heady mix of testosterone and adrenaline pumping through him.

He stares for a beat longer than the average man would. Because once again, he can’t believe he’s here. That the images in his mind could never do you absolute justice, how unbelievably beautiful you are in the most real and human way.

You’ve got pressure starting to become unbearable. Even just watching him, seeing how lost he is in the sight of your body - you can’t think straight.

He’s pulled out of his reverie when you grip the bottom of your shirt and pull it off your head, tossing the garment to the floor. It lands on the corner of the nightstand, but who’s checking.

“M’sorry baby, got distracted.” He says it honesty, a genuine apologetic lilt to his voice.

“It’s okay, makes two of us now.”

You smile at him in the gentle, playful way you do, and he’s leaning between your legs by the waist, cock so close you can feel the heat coming from it along with the rest of his body.

Now he’s looking at your naked chest, finds himself kissing your mouth in a heavy press of his lips before he’s moving across your jaw and neck and - he almost dips down and takes your nipple into his mouth. He’s almost forgotten his manners.

“Can I?” He asks through thick lashes and a strain in his throat, hovering over your tits with a slack jaw.

“Of course.”

Eager hands grip the softness of your waist, pressing upwards till he’s cupping the fat of your breasts and closing his eyes like he’s about to savor something sweet - and then he sucks on the hard bud, and you’re lit aflame.

You didn’t think it could feel this good. But he’s sucking harshly to get them sensitive, dribbling a little spit onto them before rubbing his bottom lip across the surface. Then he pops it back into his mouth, swirls his tongue.

Your fingers find his damp hair again, and you’re sure he’d suffocate if he stayed here for too long with the way you’re arching into him. He’s moving from one to the other like he can’t choose.

“Pretty fuckin tits, fuck.” He mumbles it like he’s talking to himself. Dirty words sound so good coming from his mouth, and his general disposition is usually so quiet most of the time that it feels like you’re being gifted with something rare.

It’s somewhere during his sucks and nips and bites to the fat, that you feel his hips get closer. And with the size of Dex, anything closer than what you were before has his shaft pressed right against your center - up against the sticky folds and now swollen clit.

He winces like it hurts with furrowed eyebrows, completely taken aback by how much is dripping out of you - he feels hot, wet slickness against his cock, and a gasp pulls from your lips

Your hips talk before you do. You thrust them upwards, catch his manhood between your legs and rub yourself against it from the bottom where his heavy balls are sat, to the aching tip.

“Please, I can’t wait.” It sounds like you could cry.

He almost chokes, eyes getting fluttery and his arms shaky, but not from holding up his own weight. He reels it in, looks you in your eyes, corners of his pretty mouth twitching upwards

“Yeah? You want it, pretty girl?”

You pull him by his neck to your mouth again, too worked up to care about your attitude or your neediness because Dex knows what he’s doing. It’s driving you crazy.

“Dex you’re twitching against me, I know you want it too.”

His thick eyebrows raise on his forehead, mouth cocking into a genuine smirk now.

“When’d you get such a dirty mouth, huh?”

He’s both more turned on than he thought possible, and so goddamn amused. Elated. You’re opening up for him, and it’s too good. He kisses you again and again and again.

“Always want you to tell me what’s goin on in that beautiful head, yeah? Tell me everything. Don’t hold back again.”

He’s lost it. He’s desperate now, and he doesn’t visit desperation very often anymore. Told himself he never would, so It’s reserved for very few things, and here you are - unraveling him with a string of words. With your tongue playing with his.

And you’re developing this pained expression, this crease between the valley of your eyebrows and your breathing has picked up considerably because you’re trying to catch gasps of air between the relentlessness of his mouth.

You’re bucking yourself against his dick now, shy girl gone and tucked away deep behind your navel where you need him most. It’s heavy in the pit of your stomach, that desire, the smoke.

“Want me to put it in? Huh?” He grunts, cause now he can’t compose himself properly. He’s being transformed, reduced to someone who was just made to please you. To give you exactly what you want.

“Yes please please please.” He doesn’t think he’s ever been harder. Your genuine desire is so sweet and honest, and he kisses you hard again. Departs to peer between your bodies at the mess between your legs.

He grips the base of his shaft.

“Don’t have to beg honey, let me just - okay lift your hips a little, fuck, that’s it, thaaaaats - oh fuck.”

He’s afraid he’s not going to last because you’re stretching around his tip perfectly, and your mouth drops open and this incoherent, fucked out sound leaves your parted lips while your insides already start pulsating around him.

Giving him a nice, welcome hug once he’s fully seated.

He can’t believe it, that he’s actually inside of you. And he can’t think about anything else other than the sensations, than the swelling in his chest and the way the tip of his dick is slowly pressing forward through your spongy walls - how the wetness is coating him, how now he’s fully sheathed inside of you.

“Tell me when to move, god you feel good.” He pants it out, staring down at you with a searching gaze, trying to figure out what’s going on in your head.

“You can move Dex - ohhhh, oh fuck.” He drags himself out slowly before pushing back in, giving you a chance to feel the entirety of him. He watches it go in out, ears twitching with the sound of your slickness and the squelchy glide of you taking it all.

He’s shuddering already, hips rocking steadily at first - just trying to let you adjust, to let himself adjust, soaking up the sensations of the warmth and the softness and wondering how in the hell he ever lived without feeling you like this.

His imagination can not, will never again compare. Not even a little.

It quickly becomes frantic, because your fingernails start leaving these little scratches down his biceps and the sting is too good, and his hips start bucking at a pace that begins shaking the bed frame.

You’re stuck with an open mouth, eyes already threatening to close and he’s envious of the ceiling and the way you’re staring at it so he grips your chin - pulls your face back down so he can look at you.

He’s so fucked out. Blotchy pink skin, the crinkles by his eyes doing overtime and the lines in his forehead deepening with each furrow and twitch of his eyebrow.

His breaths are ragged, vocal, and when you make eye contact and you feel the intensity of everything all at once, like a massive wave of emotion, and surrealism crashing down on you.

Because he’s so heavy on top of you, deliciously heavy and he’s in between your legs and inside your body and you have the want to reach out and wrap your arms around him but he’s too big and this position makes it hard.

Plap plap plap.

The sounds are loud now, his hips connecting with the back of your thighs and his heavy balls smacking against the crest of your ass - you cry out to him, pleads that are just sounds but somehow he knows exactly what you need. He always does.

“Shh, I got you, right there’s good hmm? F-f-fuck, ahhh.” He’s groaning in your ear, nuzzled himself in the crook of your neck and shoulder and now you can wrap your arms around his neck. He smells sweet from the shampoo, salty from the quickening perspiration and his skin is hot and rough against the side of your face.

“Righ-right there, r-right there, I- ohhhh, mmm.”

It’s downright humiliating, the sounds leaving you, the reaction your body is having. It’s nothing short of angelic to him, and he’s so giving - only putting himself in a position where he can’t watch what’s happening because you want to hug him while he fucks into you like this.

You can’t see much over the hulking mass of his back, just flashes of his ass from the way his hips are pistoning in and out.

It’s really a small, unconscious thing. Your fingertips glide over the raised, smooth pink scar protruding from his spine. It’s a gentle graze, just the pads pressing into it enough for your nails to kiss it.

Dex loses his mind.

The sound that rips through him is animalistic, primal and hungry and distraught. His whole body lurches, and then he’s coming back up for air and looping two big arms around each thigh while he puts your knees to your chest.

You grip the bedsheets and he’s quick to take your hands and place them on his big chest, to encourage your touches, the scratching the wanting, the all consuming desire plaguing you both like an incurable sickness.

“You just - you’re p-perfect baby, oh god you’re perfect.” He says it like it’s painful, sweat dripping down the side of his face, cocooning in the cusp of his scar and curving around his jaw.

“I can’t - dee-eep, you’re so deep Dex.” Each word is hiccuped by a thrust, and between your legs is surely a mess. Warm, hot even, soaked and sticky. His face contorts, head cocking to the side like he’s listening with real and true empathy.

His voice is even more saccharine, not mocking but understanding, because he’s the one so deep he feels the outline of your cervix against the mushroom tip of his dick.

“I know, I know honey.” He gets as close as he possibly can, lips barely ghosting yours and you’re craning your neck to meet him. To press a plush, hard kiss to his mouth and his tongue is quick to find yours. To tell it hello, to taste it.

“You can do it, ohhhhmygod, already taking me all the way. That’s it, that’s it.” He encourages, presses his forehead to yours and you make the mistake of peering down, of seeing just how good he’s fucking you with your own eyes.

He’s disappearing over and over again with strings of his precum and your arousal connecting the two of you in a sticky haze.

He feels your insides pushing, your belly is tensed and your eyes are having trouble focusing on him again. So he curves his hips, ruts into you deep and his pubic mound grind against your clit in the process which makes you pulse even harder around him.

He knows you’re close, can feel it and see it and the way your jaw drops a little further spurs him more.

“Like this? Gonna cum for me?”

It’s a series of questions pulled out with great effort despite their simple nature, because he’s barely hanging onto his own sanity.

You nod ardently, pulling his hips closer each time he leaves your body and returns. He’s too fucked out to do anything other than keep going, exactly as he is because he needs you to finish around him.

It’s the same precision he has with targets, the accuracy unwavering and absolute in the end goal.

It flutters from between your thighs and then throughout your body, centered inside of you with a crushing intensity, the blossom of your ending.

You’re crying out his name with breaks in your voice that he’ll remember forever, thighs trembling fiercely around his waist with the urge to close from the pleasure while your walls quiver and contract.

It’s a string of “cumming cumming you’re making me cum.” And he praises you all the while at the same time - “yeah, yeah let go for me. That’s it, fuck, all for me.” And it’s hearing those whimpers, those soft sobs in his ear and your hot puffs of breath that sends him right over the devastating edge.

The thrust is final, sealing. He will never be the same, and he understands that as he releases into you, balls aching and tensing and then ropes of his spend being pumped into you with short staccato thrusts.

“I love you I love you, god, fuck I love you.” It sounds painful, like he’s never said something so honest. He grunts viciously, grips at the sheets cause he doesn’t want to hurt you with his hold.

You cling onto him while your orgasms ripple through your bodies, and he’s all tensed muscle and beads of sweat and a mirage of a normally composed man. You’re reduced him to crimson skin and tears in the corners of his eyes and ragged breaths.

You’re both shaking when he decides to pull out of you, he shutters from the way you squeeze around him as if you don’t want him to go. And truthfully he wants to sit there for as long as you’ll allow, but he’s heard it’s not good for you and he wants to get you cleaned up as soon as possible.

Hut he has to press his mouth to yours first, inspect your face for any signs of discomfort, a quick undo started gaze over your body for any possible bruising - but you’re the perfect picture of bliss. A smile of content on your pretty lips, your limbs loose.

“Dex,” you’re broken from the post sex haze, eyes suddenly serious, expression more concerned that he’d like considering what you two have just done - you pull his mouth to you again, kissing over and over and over like it might be the last time ever.

His heart starts skipping beats, like maybe he missed something. Yeah, of course he kisses you back because he’d rather lose a limb than deny you of that, but his mind starts reeling until you provide an explanation.

“What is it? Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you did I?” He’s taken aback, content nonetheless because your lips are forgiving and warm and pleading. He sees now that you’re searching his eyes, till they’re locked in on his irises like you’ve found what you were looking for.

You break away and hold his face, nuzzle your nose against his searing cheek. He swallows hard when you take a deep breath to speak.

He knows enough about the current world but social media is genuinely so confusing to him. He’s old school like that, anything he needs to know about a person…well he can literally just go to there home, work, etc to find out everything he needs to know!

So when you talk about anything on the internet he’s like genuinely what are you talking about? It’s cute educating him on it.

Honestly loves when you dote on him. Especially about shit like his grey hair, which you do often.

“No it’s so sexy, can’t wait until you’re a fully fledged silver fox.” You’d say while in bed, scratching his scalp. He loves when you do this, head on your chest and big arms wrapped around your body like he’s trying to keep you there forever.

“Silver fox? Thought the term was salt and pepper?” He mumbles it against your sternum, and you can feel his eyebrow raise in confusion against you.

“Well those are two different terms but we don’t have to get into that right now.” Your body moves with your laughter, and he shifts his position to look at you - chin rested on the plush of your breasts.

“You wanna get into you saying I’m sexy?” He’s got a sharky grin on his face, and you can’t help but entertain it.

And the jealousy…yeah it’s bad sorry. Like if another man even comes too close he’s turning around and giving them that menacing ass stare. It’s a stare that undeniably lethal, that dead look behind the irises that another person can feel when they know this person has absolutely no problem ending them completely.

And you’re so oblivious to it sometimes, because you only have eyes for Dex. And he knows it, you’re clung to him whenever you’re out together like not touching him is an impossible feat - and he loves it.

He’s touching you all the time anyway, like you’re his ground wire and he can’t function without it. A hand on your thigh, your knee, your hand in his or his on your lower back. Your favorite is to wrap your arms around big bicep.

HE EATS IT UP.

And admittedly…sometimes he does too much on purpose.

“Dex baby, it’s okay. You think I’d want anyone else?” And you’re so earnest, but Dex has to push it. He wants to see you a little frustrated. It’s unhealthy, but that’s Benjamin.

“Maybe you do, sweetheart. Not like I’d let anyone have you, though. You know that.” And his face is dead serious, intimidating.

You’re fucked up too for relishing in it. For getting him going.

“God, don’t be so fucking impossible! I don’t care about another man walking the earth, can you just come here? You’re being difficult for no reason. He bought me a drink and I ignored him for the rest of the night.”

His ears perk up, eyebrows raising like you’re challenging him, because you are. He stays put across the living room, arms crossed and his eye twitching viciously.

You try hard not to stare at his arms, his frame in general.

“Fucking Difficult? Yeah sweetheart? I found his address, I know the shitty mechanic shop he works at downtown and five different ways to get in without being caught. That fucking drink could cost him his life,” and then he scratches at the scruff on his cheeks, looks at the floor and chuckles to himself like the even the thought brings him genuine joy.

“and here you are, using all these big girl words like you think it’s gonna get your point across.”

And this does something terrible to you. Something a little bit humiliating, because your belly gets hot and you start to get that viscous ache between your legs cause the way he’s looking at you is so filthy it’s insane.

Then he’s stalking towards you slowly, and you wish he didn’t look so beautiful because you know you’re gonna cave. Even in casual clothes, white tee shirt and grey sweats, he’s heartbreaking. A vision.

When he stands directly in front of you, you keep your chin up and that frustrated, indignant frown on your face. He softens a bit. You look so cute.

“I’m a grown woman, I can say fuck if I want to, Dex.” You almost whisper it. And you’re both fighting the urge to just reach out, to end this stupid little heated tiff. It’s nothing out of the ordinary, and you know where it’s going to end up getting you. So that ache intensifies, heart rate on 10.

“Yeah honey, yeah you can. I’ll get that attitude out of you, hmm? That’s what you wanted right? Cause’ I think you’re the one being difficult,”

His hand touches your cheek, palm turned over and rough, scarred knuckles grazing the hot plump flesh like it’s sacred. You keen into it, stubbornness be damned.

“S’not hard baby. I’ll always take care of you, always give you what you need. You want me to show you? Make you cry on my cock?”

The gasp doesn’t go unnoticed, the change in your features to one of all consuming desire. There it is, he thinks to himself.

He smirks to himself and it’s frustratingly gorgeous, and knows that you’re not going to get a break until you’re so exhausted you can’t talk back anymore.

But it was already too late. Dex noticed as soon as you nervously blinked exactly 3-times, he studied you like one of his documents back at the Bureau’s headquarters and he knew every tiny mannerism you made when you were uncomfortable,stressed or simply confused.

His unflinching eyes looked over his broad shoulder towards the cashier area of the supermarket and was met with a young man leaning his elbows on the small desk, eyeing you like you were one of those perfectly ripe fruits you were currently trying to look at.

Dex’s stare didn’t waver as his body now turned fully, his muscled arms crossed in a protective stance over his FBI jacket. Assessing the cashier like he just now by looking at his girl was a new target to take out. No one looked at Dex’s North Star without either getting a bullet between their eyebrows or anything he could hurl toward the person.

You looked up at Dex noticing he wasn’t looking at you anymore with his warm eyes that he only ever looked at you with. No he was staring at the cashier like he wanted to murder him this second. Quickly you grabbed his arm and looked up at him. “Come on! We wanted to see if they had the pasta sauce.”

Dex stiffened slightly up feeling the touch on his arm but relaxed when he saw it was his little star touching his arm. He simply grunted while his eyes were still focused on the cashier, his hands slightly clenching some of the fingers popped due the movement. You quickly tried to grab the cart from one of Dex’s sides but he swirled around quickly and shook his head. His soft but also even-toned voice breathed out. “No, I push the cart, you look what you wanna have.”

Quickly you started rushing behind some of the shelves where the different pasta sauces stood knowing from the cart noises Dex followed you. Which was honestly good. You were scared Dex would pick up a pineapple and would throw it in the cashier's face just for looking at you.

Just as you were about to grab a pasta sauce you felt the warmth that radiates from Dex like a personal furnace at your shoulder. He leaned down towards your ear and breathed out with barely held together anger. “Why did you look at that guy? Do you like him or what?”

“No! Why would you think that?” You quickly looked up at him, shocked he would think that you would ever want anyone else as him. Dex’s clenched fists that hang beside his hips popped again, his eyebrows furrowing slightly as if he didn’t buy that at all. “Why else would you look at him and then smile? Hm?”

Setting down the pasta sauce back into the shelf as you looked at Dex knowing it was still hard for him to get used to the fact that you truly loved him with everything you had and that you would never leave him. Softly laying your hand over a clenched fist of his feeling how cold his hands were due adrenaline and anger swirling inside his body like a personalised cocktail. “Well first off he is young and probably not as boring as me.” Dex hisses slightly under his slightly laboured breathing his amber colored eyes were turning more focused and colder by the second.

You quickly shaked your head as soon as those words left Dex’s pink lips. “Don’t even think about that Dex, you are the only person I want by my side and you know that deep down. The cashier creeped me out a bit honestly.” When the word “creeped out” left your lips Dex stiffened up like a K-9 that sensed someone in the supermarket definitely had something illegal in their bag. His tactical boots hit the floor with quick thuds almost charging towards the cashier area, his shoulder almost under his ears from how much he tensed up.

Almost on instinct at seeing your serious FBI clothed boyfriend charge past the Pasta Sauce shelf your mind went into survival mode, not for yourself but for the poor cashier that didn’t know Dex was possessive when it came to your well being. Rapidly rushing after Dex abandoning your cart at the shelf, your hand stretched out and touched the FBI print on Dex’s jacket with a soft touch. He swivelled around looking at you with his pupils blown by pure restraint and clenched jaw (like the photo on the cover).

You softly start caressing his jacket over his spine knowing the soft touch calmed him down instantly due his sensitive spine scar. “How about we just go to another supermarket? I didn’t like the fruit here anyway..” Dex’s furrowed eyebrows slightly start to unclench, his eyes focused solely on you before him and let out a grumble and a huffed breath through his nose. “Fine. Only because I want you to have good fruits,but if I see him eyeing you again I’ll personally arrest him for whatever I can find in the database of him.”

A soft giggle leaves you nodding, accepting that your boyfriend will always find something of a person that looked at his star the wrong way.

After that situation at the grocery store you noticed some mannerisms that Dex sharpened even more than usual.

He now always grabbed your hand whenever you were shopping for groceries, resting it under his own on the cart handle. Holding it tightly and rubbing his calloused thumb over your knuckles to directly send out a message to anyone that looked at you.

Dex’s hand often now rested on your lower back when you were simply walking down the streets of New York. And as usual he walked on the street side of the sidewalk, because maybe if a car driver would send some water spraying he would rather be hit with it than his lovely star.

He often lends you his spare FBI jacket where his name was printed over the heart pocket, whenever you were just going out to grab some food or something else. It satisfied the inner clawing jealousy that was ripping at his rip cage whenever you went out alone and he was out and about. It also made him dream of one day you would have the last name Poindexter.

He would often pass you coming into the apartment building, and as you would leave just as he was coming in, and each time, you would manage to start conversation about something or other. It was rather impressive how you could turn small talk about the weather into a history lesson about your favourite Game of Thrones House.

And of course, Dex didn't care. He didn't care about Game of Thrones, about the downfall of the Targaryen dynasty, about how the show abandoned the rich source material. He truly couldn't care less, but he did care about you. It was a weirdly formed protectiveness of you; of his sweet, nerdy neighbour whose only wrongdoing was how loud your tv was at such a late hour.

Yes, he felt protective of you. Even with this niche interest of yours, he would wear such a subtle smirk as you rambled on, bones chattering from being stood outside for too long. But you didn't notice the goosebumps forming on your arms, or the way your teeth chattered as you let Dex ask a question in response.

"Why don't we go inside and talk?" He urged, a hand placed on the small of your back to usher you inside. "Gettin' awful cold out here."

"Dex, you need to watch it!" You exclaimed. "Or read the books, if you're not into watching too much tv. Oh, I can lend you them!"

Dex chuckled. "I don't think my old mind can handle all that."

You would lean into his touch, heated cheeks and awkward smiles as he ushered you upstairs. "Old mind? Maybe I can show it to you, explain as we go along."

Dex stumbled at your sudden confidence. It had been months of sheepish giggling, singing his name in passing, twirling your hair and batting your eyelashes. And now, you chose to make a move. Set a date. Albeit a strangely casual date. And he would toy with you, have you all red in the face for him, he would tease you for it. For crushing on him, and so plainly for him to see.

"It's a date. This weekend." He joked, winking at you as he fumbled with his keys. He wouldn't know how you collapsed against your door as you shut it, or how you clutched your heart as it pumped furiously within you, or how you skipped around your apartment that evening.

You had set your trap for that weekend, the pilot episode ready to go on your tv, snacks adorning the coffee table, a bottle of wine with two pristinely clean glasses beside it. You made it your mission to get that sexy old man next door to fuck you, and you had waited. Patiently.

And when he had finally walked into your apartment, it had been almost an exact mirror of his own, except more lived-in. He had stolen the air from the room as he advanced toward you, a ghostly kiss to your cheek.

"Ready for our date?" His voice was so gruff, forcing you to swallow your insatiable arousal as you smiled up at him.

You nodded, sitting with your legs to your chest on the couch beside him. And even as the beginning scene had started, you couldn't bear to watch it. You were much too focused on the way Dex was manspreading, hips nestled forward in his seat, legs spread just the perfect amount, hands laced together over his groin. Your mouth dried at the sight of him.

"Who are these people?" He whispered, as three scruffy looking men rode through the snow.

"Shh." You put your finger to his lips. "Just watch."

"What are wildlings?"

"Who killed those people in the snow?"

"What the fuck was that thing?"

"Why do they have such blue eyes?"

Dex was incessant with his questions. Even with your finger to his lips, he persisted.

"You'll find out if you keep watching." You sung, dragging your finger down his lip as you retracted your hand.

Dex tried. He really did, he feigned interest even as the opening title moved across the screen, as you hummed the music beside him, as you told him about the title sequence changing as the show develops. He had even drained the last of the wine bottle you shared. But he couldn't care. Not at all.

Not when you were sat in such tight, short, shorts. Not when your fingers were dancing along the bare skin of your thigh as you watched so intently. Like you didn't know every word as they spoke it. How could he possibly care when his hands were trembling with restraint?

"Dex."

He hummed. Dragging his eyes up to meet yours, catching your amused yet stern smile.

"You're not even watching." You folded your arms.

"Can you blame me?" The wine was talking for him, but he really did enjoy making you squirm. "Pretty girl next to me and you'd rather me watch a beheading?"

"It's important! He broke his vow." You reasoned, trying to ignore his compliment. Though your thighs clenched at the venom on his tongue, swallowing thickly to hide your arousal.

"Fine. I'll try." He raised his hands in defence. "But I want you here."

He tapped his thigh, beckoning you over with a wicked grin. And as much as he enjoyed torturing you with the knowledge of your crush, he was inflicting the same torture unto himself. Watching you crawl across your couch, on your hands and knees, at dangerously slow pace. It had sentenced him to death.

You nestled onto his lap, ass pressed firmly into him after torturous shuffling. And Dex had tried again, tried to focus on learning names and marriages and who was related to who. Tried to focus on the stupid helmets, ridiculously dressed characters, and unpleasant ways of talking. But one look down and your tits were in his face, your back facing the edge of the touch.

He would only reciprocate the same anguish he felt, by dragging his hand up your back, by nestling it on the flesh of your ass, by grunting as he adjusted his position. He would notice your breath shallowing, the way you would fiddle with the rings on your fingers, just to ignore the way he made you feel.

His other hand rested on your thigh, creeping closer towards the hem of your shorts. And he felt you open your legs, only slightly, creating space for his fingers to travel. He looked up at you, his gaze burning holes into your cheeks, but you refused to look down at him. You couldn't, you'd melt in his arms otherwise.

"Sweetheart," he whispered, "look at me."

You refused. Suddenly frowning with deepened interest in the dull conversation on screen. But he persisted, his hand leaving your thigh to grab your jaw. Gently, yet firm enough to command your gaze into his.

"I can feel it, you know."

"Feel what?" You gulped.

He smirked up at you, releasing your jaw to swipe your hair from your eyes. "You. Shuffling, squeezing your legs together, pulling them apart. What do you want?"

"I—uh, nothing."

"Come on, sweetheart. Tell me what you want." He urged, returning his hand to the top of your thigh, the tip of his finger delving beneath the tight fabric of your shorts. Only enough for his nail to disappear, teasing himself into uncharted territory.

You thought the wine had already soured within you. Had your happy, horny buzz worn off? Or had you been out of your depth crushing on a man like him?

He shook his head, a condescending pout on his lip. "Not gonna talk to me, hm?"

You shook your head, a semblance of a smile tilted at your lips. But it had been buried swiftly, as the hand planted on your ass squeezed gently.

"Take these off for me." He ordered, pulling his finger out of the hem of your shorts with a snap. And he had been impressed at the speed in which you stood, sheepishly hiking your shorts onto the floor. And returning to your seat on his lap.

"Pay attention, Dex." You garnered enough courage to whisper back to him, resuming the show with only fifteen minutes left.

And now you couldn't focus. You couldn't pay any mind to the conversation happening between your favourite characters, not when Dex's fingers were tracing over your folds through your panties. And you couldn't help yourself jerking your hips forward, into his touch, willing him to move your underwear. Hell, you'd let the man cut them off you.

"What do you want?" He repeated, the arrogance in his voice evident as he halted his fingers.

"Nothing." You gritted, slamming your thumb against the volume up button to drown out the sound of his snark. Now he was toying with you, playing with you like you were his prey. And he was enjoying it.

Once the credits had begun, Dex had turned you in his lap. Your chest facing his, your arms folded with a pout as you stared down at him. And he smiled with such depravity, getting off on how flustered you'd become. For him.

"What do you want with an old man like me, hm?" He teased, his hands taking firm grip of your hips to still you.

You had little to say. You knew what you wanted, but you weren't going to beg for it. He hadn't paid an ounce of attention to the show, only the exposed skin of your thighs, only the way you shuffled against his achingly hard cock.

"You upset, sweetheart? Upset cause I didn't watch your show?" He teased you, spoke his such condescension, and yet had you soaked at that very fact.

You nodded. Steadfast in your pout.

"Tell me what happened, remind me." He reasoned, eyes dragging over your body positioned atop him. He bowed his head for you to begin talking, and just as you spoke about the White Walkers, his finger hooked around the fabric of your panties.

"Go on," he whispered, though his focus had been on you pulsing against his fingers.

"The King, Robert, he—" Your words faltered as you whimpered, feeling his finger drag between your folds.

"He what, baby?"

"He arrived at Winterfell." You finished, though you fought to find the words. "To make Ned Hand of the—"

"The..." Dex dragged the word out, fingers halting at your entrance. Waiting for you to continue.

"King. Hand of the King."

He nodded, an arrogant smirk plastered to his face as you fought with your words. His finger had slid into you, your wetness coating his knuckle as he buried it within you.

"And Robert was in... love with Ned's sister, Lyanna." You continued, driving your hips further into him. As if he could bury his fingers any deeper within you. Your eyes closed, overcome with pleasure from only one finger. Months of wishing your own hands had been his, and now it had truly happened.

Dex took hold of your jaw, commanding your attention. "Eyes on me, baby. Keep talkin'."

Dex could tell you were restless, so had opted to insert a second finger. To watch you squirm as you adjusted to it.

"Daenerys is being forced to marry," you sighed, hips quivering at the tightened sensation of his second finger. "To Khal Drogo."

"That's it, sweetheart. Keep talkin'." He grunted. "This is what you wanted, huh?"

You nodded. Eyebrows furrowed to navigate the pleasure he pulled from you, the way his fingers curled against your sweet spot inside you, as if he'd been made for you. His purpose was to learn your pleasure, to pull it from you until you knew nothing but his name.

"Words."

"Yes, Dex."

Dex ignored how hard he was, how it ached against his jeans, against you. His pleasure could wait, he wanted to see yours through. He wanted to know what you looked like as you came for him, as he was certain this wasn't the first time.

You had long since forgotten explaining the episode to him, the only sounds to fill his ears were now your weakened moans and the wetness of his fingers inside you. Even with his hand on your hip to steady you, your hips rocked into him. To find the high he had been gathering from within you.

"Dex, I'm—"

"Come on, sweetheart." He chuckled, sadistically, enjoying the torment your mind faced as he observed your most vulnerable moments of desire. "Come on my fingers."

He maintained his pace, using his grip on your hip as leverage to grind up into you. Torturing himself just as much, wishing to replace his fingers and stuff you full of his cock. He could tell you were on the edge, your walls tightening around him, keeping him nestled within you.

"That's it." He sighed, condescension and softness remained as you quivered around him. "Did so well for me."

You felt weightless, wired, and embarrassed. You hadn't expected to be watched and made to come for him, with no chasing of his own pleasure. Like an animal at a zoo, he watched you. For entertainment. He watched you fall apart on his fingers, letting him undo you. You couldn't help as tears brimmed your eyes, but Dex had been swift in catching them.

"Oh, don't cry, sweetheart." He cooed, moving his hand from your hip to your cheek. His thumb catching the tears as they rolled down your cheeks, before squeezing your jaw. "Don't cry, it's okay."

And suddenly, he ripped himself from inside you. Left you hollow, and whimpering at the loss of contact. His mouth opened slightly, to urge you to mirror him. And you did as instructed.

At 9pm every Friday night, Dex buttons up his best shirt as he watches his pretty little north star get all dolled up for him. Looming over you as you touch up your lashes whilst softly running the fingers of his free hand through your hair. Sometimes his hands wonder further down, tracing the back of your neck and spine before reaching forward and ghosting just above your tits whilst his hot breath taunts the side of your ear. However before things can get a little tooo heated, he retreats back to fixing up his tie, purposely teasing you before the both of you walk out of your shared apartment towards your place of choice. But don't worry! you get your revenge eventually !!

Waiting for your order at any restaurant can always be a drag, the countless plates and trays arriving yet passing your table every time you get your hopes up. Dex always notices when the furrow of your brow and quiet sigh of your lips begins to border the line of frustration. So in an act of kindness he smirks and his thigh softly brushes against yours, as if to say "don't fret, it'll be our turn soon!". Albeit to him, you take it as a scoot your chair closer to his so you can start provocatively squeezing said thigh. To which his response is to clear his throat in order to mask the quickened pace of his breath as your fondling runs up up up until - oh look your dinner is served ! And with every bite and slight glare in his eyes, you best believe that he's counting down the moments until he's firmly dragging you into the nearest bathroom whilst you're giggling softly behind him.

As much as he loves treating you, he desires nothing more than your adoration - constantly seeking to prove himself worthy of your love. This in turn leads Dex to take you on countless adventures alongside the usual dates to flaunt his talents.

This may include bowling in the beginning, letting you play first so he can cheer you on whilst amusing himself with your cocky little attitude. Which instantly slips the second he nails his first ball, your lips agape in shock, a sight he he revels in for the rest of the round. Eventually he feels a sting of remorse and opts for towering over you during your turn, arms guiding yours whilst your back is pressed against his chest. His palms steering the ball into a perfect strike, which has you jumping with joy and giving him a sweet kiss on his slowly reddening cheek !!

Occasionally as you begin to familiarise yourself with his skills, you start nagging pleading with him to take you to the local arcade. And as your kind hearted and caring boyfriend who is he to say no??

That's how he ends up at the claw machine pocketing all the plushies and rewards you want, in return for little pecks on his cheek as your arms are wrapped around his torso cheering him on. That's also how he ends up at the town's carnival a few weeks later. Borderline splitting the rigged hoop in half with his basketball and walking away hand in hand with you hugging a huge teddy bear that's practically the size of your whole body, whilst the owner of the stall is still staring at the two of you gobsmacked. After trying his best to keep a poker face whilst speeding down the heights of Everest on some coma-inducing roller coaster, he tries his best to distract you from the idea of any other life threatening rides with cotton candy. That's when you see his eyes sparkle as he notices a rack of fake guns lined up before a range of red and white moving targets. You take his arm in yours and run the both of you over to the stand, Dex picking up the fake gun of his choice and already aiming towards the target in front of him whilst the smug employee is counting up the bills in his hand oblivious. And he doesn't just hit the targets, no - he completely knocks them off the stand. With the way you're egging him on in his ear he decides to go the extra mile, striking each and every target until the worker is begging him to stop whilst offering him almost every prize on display (eager to get rid of him before Dex ruins his business).