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I'd been expecting this. No, not only expecting, playing it out over and over all in pre-emption for where this would bring us. What it would mean for us. Your obsession frankly began to feel lecherous. Not that I anticipate to be the object of anyone's sexual desire because in this case I know it's something deeper. Something that lies outside of that hollow crevice. With you... there's no feelings here aside from hate. And I understand that, my arch nemesis. I'd be lying if I was trying to convince myself that something outside of this bitter loathing was rippling beneath the surface - my surface. Because the only thing under this mask is numbness.
Dragging his eyes along the frame of Sergeant James Doakes, Dexter drank it in. Drank him in, all of this moment. He was on the precipice, the rocking moment that could mean a thousand things depending on which part of the path he decided to walk. So many choices at his fingertips, yet so little time to properly and succinctly execute the necessary rational thought for each.
You lie outside of the code. Dancing along the edges of the Venn diagram of the demons and devils who lurk around. Yes, you lurk. But I can't make you a pretty package Doakes. So there's something else I can turn to. Something else I can be. Dexter the geek, Dexter the blood freak, Dexter the addict, Dexter the slut.
Slowly, Dexter walked up to Doakes with that usual blank expression, a hum passing his lips. "Right..." he gave a heavy sigh, shoulders dropping but he didn't move his eyes away from his contender for a second. "Well in that case Sergeant, let me put this in the open for you." Dexter continued his slow glide forward, James not budging on that scepticism filled gaze throughout the movement or the speech. He almost looked amused as Dexter came closer, so close in fact that there was barely a handful of centimetres between them. It was as though they were playing chicken, who would move away first? Who would crack first?
The blood expert gave a soft smirk, allowing a small glimmer beneath the mask as he tilted his head to really ensure that their eyes were locked. Lowering his tone so it was like a smooth promise, not quite a whisper but it would get there, Dexter continued. "No matter what you try, no matter when, no matter how hard you work... I'll always be ahead of you for one simple reason."
There was no denying that the way he was speaking, the look on his face, it was all screaming arrogance to James. And with what he was saying, the confidence, it was purely intentional that it was all coming off this way. But still, Doakes didn't allow himself to crack.
In fact, he had a smirk of his own. Possibly one of disbelief, but certainly one of amusement about the fact that Dexter was even trying to intimidate him right now like this. He raised his brows before tilting his head to the other side, keeping that intense eye contact between the both of them. "And what's that?"
Dexter was one more smirk away from chuckling in James' face - yet he refrained. This delivery had to be perfect.
Slowly, painstakingly so, Dexter leaned ever closer to his colleague to the point where it was easy to realise the Sergeant could feel the hot breath of the forensic specialist on his face.
"I own you." the way he spoke was so nonchalant, like it was simple fact, but the glisten in his eyes told James everything he needed to know about this fucker.
Like a shot, James reached out and grabbed Dexter's neck with such a force it wouldn't be a surprise if he was seconds away from a sickening snap. But the movement didn't stop there.
He forced Dexter back, marching the other with the power of some kind of terminator until he came crashing against the desk. Glass vials rattled in their holdings, files slipped to the floor as the blinds fluttered yet remained close. If Dexter hadn't known any better, he would've voted that the whole half of the precinct shook with that force behind Doakes' arm.
Gasping for breath, the analyst kept his smirk as one hand wrapped around the Sergeant's wrist in an attempt to alleviate some of that pressure.
I'm not here to die. Killing is the last thing on my mind right now, you or me. I need this to work, and it will. He just needs to realise that there's something better to do with all this rage. Pounding me. Not with his fists - god when did I become crass with my metaphors. Must be this new me.
"Don't look so fucking clever now, do you smartass? You don't fucking own shit. You hear me Morgan?" James spat, his pressure not alleviating on Dexter's neck, even as he noticed a slight red coming to the other's face. "I ain't playing your damn games-"
Yet the hand that wasn't occupied, started to slide up Doakes' arm, caressing at his bicep. James' train of thought faltered as his eyes had to break from the freak's face in order to actually see what the hell it was he was doing to really believe it.
"The fuck-"
And that moment of distraction, of James not being on full form, meant that pressure around his neck relieved and Dexter could take a full breath. Oxygen to the brain, and at last he could continue.
"C'mon Sergeant." Dexter purred after taking in a big gulp of breath whilst he could. "Don't play coy..."
Slamming Dexter back into the desk once again, rougher as he pushed away that wandering hand, and instead moved forward so that the freak wasn't at an arm's length from him anymore. So he could really get a look in those crazy eyes and see if this was a joke.
"The fuck you mean play coy, motherfucker?" he whispered, practically growled as he glared right through Dexter.
The analyst gave a soft sound at being pushed back in such a way, already feeling the bruises form on his lower back. A mixture of pain and... pleasure? He wasn't sure. He hadn't accounted for that, for slipping up and making such sounds.
Guess I'm just... a good liar. The sex I've been having helps I suppose. I'm not such a void anymore, I have more blueprints to work off. That's all this is.
"You, following me around all this time. Even crawling back to me after I stabbed your tire. Only way you'd be this persistent about me, watching my every move is if this is your way of flirting. Teasing me. All those nights watching me across the bar -" Dexter gasped as his neck was squeezed. Not to the same extent as before, but certainly tight. "Mmm... face it James. You're obsessed with me."
And for the first time, James had his gaze falter. He broke first. And Dexter only smirked more at this, moving his hands this time to Doakes' hips and pulling him close.
"My blinds are down - no one comes here when they're down. Aside from you."
Doakes' breath hitched, which was impressive for a man of service as his steely glare fell back onto Dexter. "Get your fucking hands off me Morgan." he hissed, something low from the back of his throat as his pulse quickened.
"You first..." Dexter purred, which earned him another shove backwards. Only this time, it tipped him over. Dexter's legs spread to try and brace his body weight, but he wasn't fast enough. He went crashing back onto the desk, his neck bent at an awkward angle as he was arching on and slightly above the desk, so far back he was sandwiched against the wall. His chin would've been touching his chest if it wasn't for the iron grip from that strong hand around his neck. Instead of his usual instinct to fight for himself here, despite what his dark passenger was pleading for, Dexter kept the uncomfortable position and gazed up at Doakes with his best doe eyes that were still able to hold hunger behind them.
No one said that bloodlust couldn't come in handy when feigning real lust. I know you'll buy it. By the way your artery in your neck is pumping extra hard - could be the rage. But I know you're noticing.
Sliding both hands this time around Doakes' wrist as he took another gasp for breath, Dexter tried to shift beneath the weight, but not for his own benefit. Just to put more of himself on display.
"I ain't feeling anything like that about you." James said sternly, resting his other hand flat against the wall behind Dexter's head as he leaned so close it mirrored what the serial killer had done prior. Hot breath ghosting on each other's faces - the Sergeant's steady, yet the killer's soft and gasping. "You're a freak. Scrap that - a whole fucking freak show." Dexter stared right back into James' eyes like this, not even phased by the spittle that landed on his cheek by Doakes' pointed words. "I wouldn't even think about touching you like that, even in your fucked up little dreams. You understand?"
Dexter stayed quiet, fingers just tracing idle shapes as much as they could against the other's wrist.
And this didn't go down well with James.
"Fucking answer me, dammit!" Doakes growled as he hit Dexter's head back against the wall, to which the analyst gave a groan but it wasn't in the way of being in pain. No it was more than that.
Another involuntary noise. My body understands the act going on here? Perhaps everything makes more sense than I first thought.
And yet, when Doakes could've mocked him for such a disgusting reaction, there was clearly something else that was more pressing to the Sergeant. And for good reason.
"...You really are a psycho. This why you do the job? This sort of stuff just gets you off?" James' eyes fired up to Dexter. "Violence. It gets you all hot and steamy - that why you haven't rented a single porno in the last decade?"
No way he's jumped to this from me making noises.
Dexter frowned a little then and shifted under the lasting weight - and that's when it clicked. Pants considerably tighter.
No. Way. How... is my body doing this? No intense foreplay with painting metaphors, no steamy words. Just this?
Just keep going - it works with what I wanted anyway. Just a lot sooner than I was ever thinking. I need to turn this around before he catches onto the fact that I'm just as surprised as he is.
"Mmm - no. No no. Not this job... just you. Roughing me around." Dexter tried to take another breath, attempting to angle his head back yet of course was met with the wall. "I've thought about it. Since the shipping container. Couldn't believe I'd pinned you back so quickly - mmmh - wondered if you'd ever have me like this or if I'd be too quick for you every time."
James seemed to note the struggle to breathe now, and finally let up on that hold around his neck. Relaxing his fingers to the point he could feel the area expand properly under his fingers, but he was by no means letting go yet.
"No way you're too quick. You got fucking lucky."
"Oh yeah?"
"Who's got who pinned to the damn desk here Morgan?"
Dexter chuckled, moving his head some, and finally being able to move his legs. His feet still weren't completely touching the floor, but he was more comfortable. "And you think I didn't want this exact thing?" he whispered, reaching out and sliding his arms down James' arm to his chest. "You're so hot blooded... I figured you've been wanting to get me on my back since all this shit started. There's a fine line between 'fucking hating' someone, and 'hate fucking' them, don't you think, Doakes. And I think we're allowed to toe that line... aren't we?"
There was a moment where Dexter wasn't sure if he'd lost James or if he'd caught him completely, due to that vacant look on his face and every ounce of intensity within his eyes. It sent a shudder down Dex's spine as he watched, gasping a little for breath as if his windpipe was still being grasped in that vice grip but it certainly wasn't. He felt like these few seconds dragged on for an eternity before the release was given - and not even he could have thought it would be this.
A broken moan passed Dexter's lips as his eyes fell to the sight of Doakes' hand sliding between his thighs and palming at his clothed dick. The touch was far more tentative than anything he ever knew could come from the man which caught Dexter even more off guard, but not as much as that sound had made James start to realise that maybe this psycho really wasn't fucking with him.
"Jesus..." Dexter whispered, his hips already rolling back up into Doakes' hand to follow that hesitant movement.
Yet as soon as he was, James removed his hand and moved away all together. "F-fuck." he whispered, taking a gasp of his own with the disbelief. "You're..."
No I wasn't accounting for you running out of here like you're afraid of me. I need to get that rage back. C'mon now. That's when you're at your best, when you look like you can kill me with just a look.
"Mhm... yes, I'm hard. Genius." Dexter rolled his eyes as he pushed himself to sit up, his toes finally not just grazing the floor as he let his feet rest flat against the ground again. Now just perching on the messed up desk, legs spread and slightly swinging. "Now are you going to get back over here and deal with me, or are you going to be chicken?"
Doakes gave a chuckle of disbelief, looking at Dexter for once with the pure accusation of being insane, rather than just to annoyance about not knowing a secret. And that difference, screamed volumes to Dexter.
And he knew just what to do.
"...fine." Dex sighed, hopping off the desk which did his back no favours, but playing the nonchalant, slutty, blood analyst had to be the way to go. "Guess I'll just go find Deb, tell her, her Sergeant is way too chicken to be on this big case." He turned his back for what was seconds, ready to make his way to the door but James never let him get that far.
Another strong hand was grabbing his wrist, yanking him away from the only thing that would reveal this whole fucked up scenario to the outside world. And instead, he twisted Dexter's arm behind his back before pressing him face down into the desk. Classic police restraint technique, with all the hostility and roughness of a beat down detective.
Dexter smirked as best he could past being winded, as the desk shook under the force once again, a small box of scalpels rattling and nearing the edge of the desk even more. Teetering on their own precipice - almost poetic.
Here we go...
"You breathe a single word to your sister, about any of this shit, and I'll make you wish you weren't born, freak. And that's a fucking promise." James whispered as he leaned down, pressing his chest down into Dexter's back so he was sure his whispered threat was directly into Dexter's ear and Dexter's ear only.
Oh Doakes you are making this too easy...
Dexter winced as James squeezed that sensitive pressure point of his wrist, grimacing slightly but it soon became a chuckle. "Oh? And... what exactly is 'any of this shit' Sergeant?" He asked in that voice that so perfectly feigned innocence, as he pressed his ass back to close that slight gap between him and James' crotch.
"You damn well know-" Doakes began but tensed with a low gruff of his own, arching Dexter's wrist more in response, not caring that a sprain was easily achieved by now, and a break was only a few moments away. "Think you're funny do you?"
Dexter blamed his growing erection on the fact that he was being rubbed against the table with every harsh movement from Doakes, rather than the growling and huffing right in his ear. Crying out a little at that arch on his wrist, Dexter closed his eyes in order to clear his head to maintain this personality streak. "Oh Sergeant, I think we already know by now my comedic charm is purely accidental. My perverseness as you so readily pick up on though." Dex panted, gathering his breath a little through the shooting pain throughout his arm and the growing arousal. "That's all me."
Something about that though just seemed to get under Doakes' skin even more. "Perverse hey? Y'know. I think this might all just be one big elaborate act. Some fucking joke on me like that damn blood report. Let's see shall we?" He challenged, that anger rising once again in his voice just like when he'd step foot in this lab.
Feeling the faster heart rate against his back, Dexter knew he'd earned what he was looking for from the Sergeant. But he had to admit, he had no idea what the fuck he meant by what was just said.
Opening his eyes, Dexter turned his head and tried to look back at James who lessened the weight of his whole chest on his back. But this didn't help make things any clearer.
Until he felt it.
That's... bold. No kidding you're more of a leader than a team player being like this.
With more skill than Dexter had actually expected, Doakes had the analysts' belt open and his pants tugged down enough that his ass was visible and accessible. Still clothed in the cotton of boxer shorts, but on display nonetheless, that hand still being crushed against his back. And in this moment, for that second, he felt under someone's wills.
Fascinating.
"This what you're hoping for Morgan? Hm?" Doakes challenged, waiting for some kind of protest from Dexter. A bit of an embarrassed laugh as he'd say how the joke was up and he was really just fucking with him. But Dex stayed silent.
Is this what I was hoping for? Actually, more than. I thought I'd have to do the work, become scantily glad before anything close to you tearing my clothes off of me became a reality. Maybe that's because I didn't need to worry about you seeing that emptiness after the fact, you aren't a lover to me. You don't even come close to companion. I feel a severe lack of anything towards you. More so than usual. Or maybe that's the numbness of my loathing for you always being on my ass. So honestly... I don't care. It suits me just fine, your newfound invigoration Doakes.
Instead of pressing Dexter for an answer, James continued pushing. Just waiting for the moment when the analyst would finally tap out, be the chicken first. Surely it'd only be a matter of time. "How about this? Hm? Talking smart to me, you been wanting this instead?"
The next thing to be shed was Dexter's underwear. A bold choice, but what did Doakes have left to toy with? If it wasn't for the Miami heat, Dexter would've been pleased with the breeze on his bare skin. But with the ac not on, and this hot blooded figure looming behind him, there wasn't much difference to feel. It wasn't a taste to the senses. He was just pants free in front of a co-worker. His untanned ass on display, just for James to see.
And Dexter couldn't back down from that last fact.
A soft chuckle came from the redhead as he attempted to move under that force still put out by James' hand. Just tried to lift himself so he could turn back, but was met with a hard slam back into the desk. His cheek lay flush against the surface, pressed to the cooler material so firmly he had to close one eye.
The dark passenger began to grow agitated. I shouldn't be letting myself be manhandled this way. If he breaks my arm I'm out of the game and I can't go feeling restless anymore. He's angry enough, I need to go in for the kill.
"Well with how hasty you've been, I wouldn't say it's just my desires on your mind. We're both human Sergeant."
Still feels comical to say such a thing.
"Take what you're wanting." Dexter purred as he attempted to arch his back, pushing his upper chest more into the desk as much as he could and ignoring the pain as the edge of it dug into his ribs - yet that was nothing compared to the continual pressure being applied to that wrist of his. He felt like he could snap, and that was in a number of ways. It was intoxicating.
And this time, James fell silent. His breath heavy as he surveyed the situation they were in, as he thought about what Dexter was saying. The merit his words could hold... the most the analyst had done was say a few choice words. Suggest a few things... he hadn't tried to actively undress himself, or Doakes for that matter. Seeming to process this, there was a slight doubt in his action. He couldn't be the centre of a joke... because he was the one taking the lead on this. The one having Dexter pinned beneath him like nothing more than a doll.
Dexter Morgan... was at his whim. So what was he wanting? To fucking hate him?
Or the other option.
His steady eyes dragged their way across the curve of Dexter's ass, sizing him up as he gave thought to that... offer of sorts. Dragging his eyes up further, James caught sight of the analysts' cocky face. Even all bent out of shape, pressed so hard into a table that he can hardly talk properly, there was still a smirk. He wanted it - no, needed it gone. He needed to wipe it clean from Morgan's face before the other even knew what hit him. Maybe the real joke here, the real game he was playing, was trying to call his bluff. Trying to push and push him to see if, at the end of the day, Doakes was really the one who wasn't human, without these innate desires.
And that's when it clicked. He couldn't let the freak think he'd won.
I can practically see every cog turning in your brain Doakes, it's exquisite. If I knew it'd be this easy to make you think I'd trapped you in some kind of double bluff I could've done it years ago and saved myself the frustration of not being able to clear away the trash from the streets. Maybe you wouldn't have stalked me - maybe... you would've been chasing this rather than trying to catch up to the dark passenger. Feeling like you'd solved my mystery rather than always sniffing around me with suspicion. Wait - hold on.
Before Dexter could find himself wholly lost in his mind, he heard unbuckling. Unzipping. And he found himself watching, or at least what he could make out of it with this partial vision. He could hear James' annoyance, his rage, his detest, in almost every action made as he watched pants be pulled down just enough to reveal boxers that matched the dark blue polo the other was wearing. Such a detail made Dexter smirk. An insignificant detail, but it amused him nonetheless.
"A colour coordinated man. Who could've guessed."
"If you know what's good for you Morgan, you aren't gonna be making smart comments." Doakes practically snarled, finally releasing Dexter's wrist, but only in favour of grasping at his hips with both hands, closing the space between them so that his chest could be that commanding weight to keep the analyst pinned down once again. "I'm the one in control here." he whispered, watching the look on the other's face. A mixture of contempt for the throbbing in his wrist, and thrill. If he didn't care so much about coming out on top in this scenario, James would've belittled Dexter for finally showing some excitement in those empty eyes of his. But he had a job to do.
Dexter gave a low groan in his throat, turning his head a little more so that he could look up to James, make that eye contact. Unflinching. "I wouldn't be so sure Sergeant... everything isn't always as it seems." he mused in that usual tone, with the return of that all to familiar smirking grin.
"From where I'm standing, things seem pretty plain and fucking simple." James uttered, pushing his own hips forward so that the space between them now was non existent. Weight on his back, throbbing parts of his body, his ribs feeling like they'll bruise too if he has to last another minute with his lower chest being angled an the hard edge of his desk. And yet, no comment comes from Dexter.
Feeling Doakes start to rock his hips, create a friction against his bare ass with all the care of a sledgehammer, wasn't something he'd been expecting. Yet it wasn't the most surprising part.
The dark passenger... it's craving blood. Craving the tearing, the bruising, the consuming of everything. Yet it isn't hateful, there's something carnal with it, something I didn't know I had in me. Not like this. And not at a time like this. Bodily urges seem... unseemly. I know I wanted Doakes in this position, I had to trawl through videos online on some of the best ways to be able to get to this, but I didn't think my body would be so... willing to receive.
The blood vials rattled, the blinds swung slightly with light taps against the windows behind them. A vision of things to come no doubt. Dexter managed to lift his head enough that he was no longer gazing back at Doakes, and instead his chin was perching uncomfortably against the table. Eyes fixed on the wall, and in that moment he gathered himself, trying not to give any sounds. Holding the groans tightly in his throat like a secret, not allowing them to budge.
James lasted a few rough ruts up against Dexter's ass before he was hard, his breath still heavy like he was amped up for a fight. And in some ways, he was. "Oh c'mon Morgan." Doakes started, finally lifting his weight off of the other's back, now standing upright. "Don't go fucking silent on me now. I know that mouth can work."
Dexter gave a slight shake of his head, taking a full breath now that the heavy weight was relieved. His ribs practically cried mercy, yet not an ounce of it passed his lips.
Which only pissed James off more, this time without the intention from the analyst.
Grabbing a fistful of that red hair, James practically dragged his fingers against Dexter's scalp before finding just the right spot around the crown of the geek's head, and yanking hard. Dexter's head jerked, his back following the motion as his chest started to be lifted off the desk. His spine felt as though it would split with such a pressure and splinter like cheap wood, yet it was just enough of a motion to earn a fragile moan the killer couldn't quite swallow. Yet he barely had time to process the waves of pain and pleasure rippling through his body as Doakes' feet hastily tapped at Morgan's to get his legs to spread further apart.
They slid easily apart from one another with the forceful kicks rather than taps, Dexter cursing mentally for the lack of control in his body. Yet Doakes still wasn't happy. He wanted to push the analyst, see what he could really earn from the other. He spread Dexter's legs further to the point where the redhead couldn't hold his own bodyweight anymore, and almost fell forward if it wasn't for that grasp on his hair.
"Ah - Nnf..." Dexter huffed before his arms flew out and tried to grasp onto something, anything, that would save him from being suspended by only his hair. He managed to grasp on the frame of the window that wasn't fully covered by the blind, but barely. Arms stretched out front, fingertips turning white as he gripped as hard as he could to not let himself fall.
Images began to pass through my head. A flurry of gorgeous themes that were dizzying to imagine. Arched like this, aching like this, I imagined what it'd be like for a blade to pierce my flesh. For the taught muscle to start ripping, the blood to begin spilling, gushing out of me. I couldn't help it. Whether I wanted Doakes to do that to me... that was something else.
"You trying to get me to do the splits or something?" Dexter muttered, coarsely. Which seemed to delight James in some way, getting a glimmer of satisfaction in his gaze.
"Oh? Pissed you off have I?" he hummed, clearly bragging about his little possible accomplishment. And Dexter knew immediately he had to eradicate any trace of that enjoyment.
Gaining that smirking mask back, Dexter took a breath before attempting to turn his head. Course, the most he could manage was seeing the other out of his peripheral, but he knew that his own smirk would be more than visible to someone like Doakes who by now knew it so well. It was worth having to grasp that bit harder to the window frame so he wouldn't slip. "No. No Sergeant... Just wondering how long it's going to take for you to actually fuck me instead of playing with my body like a doll."
James gave a huff, he still hadn't worn down the smartass yet.
"Unless you want me tearing you apart from the fucking inside I suggest you learn to control that impatience of yours. Lessons starting now."
The dark passenger lurched at the phrasing. Tearing apart. Who knew sex could be so ... destructive. To some, I suppose the theory may seem banal. Two bodies, or more, together in the throws of some kind of passion, something so primal. But for me, hearing it phrased that way with such ease from someone I know lacks any intimacy for me, any infatuations... well it was like something was akin to that needy whisper in my ear.
Dexter turned his head back front for the sake of his neck, looking to the slits of light passing through the blinds by guiding his eyes down before they'd hurt his sockets. Watching the ceiling was probably the smarter move, but he knew how open it would make his throat to have his head lulled back in such a fashion. Adam's apple bobbing, exposed, vulnerable. He'd stick to taking slow breaths and trying not to fight against that persistent grip in his hair.
Which was easier said than done when Doakes had advanced again.
Pressing his dick against Dexter's ass, meaning his boxers had now been tugged down, James forced his fingers to Dexter's lips. Yanking at that soft hair again so that his pretty mouth opened. As compliant as those previous forceful actions made him, this was no exception. A low cry erupted from the back of the analyst's throat, jaw falling slack which James took ready advantage off, forcing those fingers deep into the heat of Dexter's mouth.
"You try anything with those damn teeth, I'll make you lose 'em." the Sergeant threatened as he worked his middle and index finger, heavy against the killer's tongue. Long strokes, probing and full of pressure. Skilful despite the harshness, which Dex couldn't ignore as he looked to James in his peripheral once again. Yet this time, through lidded, empty eyes. All he gave, all he really could give, was a short hum of response before he began to assist the process. He relaxed his mouth further, moving his tongue to almost weave between those two fingers before sucking lazily. Tempted to rock his ass back against the tip of that dick just prodding him, Dexter channelled those butterflies in his stomach to instead roll and swirl his tongue, practically sucking off the Sergeant's fingers.
Doakes looked rather focused on the task at hand, almost lost in it, before his gaze did finally lift from the image of that mouth he'd been wanting to punch fitting so nicely around his fingers. And for a moment, he locked eyes with Dexter. Or at least as much he could catch those hazels through those heavy lashes. And that's when he decided that was enough.
Yet, Dexter wasn't finished. He sensed that change pass over Doakes' face, which was when he knew to strike.
He bit down, nothing vicious like he could have. Doakes would keep his fingers. But not without the sharp indent of teeth, like marking a territory. Fat beads of blood sprung to the surface of where Morgan's canines had broken the skin and Doakes inhaled harshly, quickly pulling his hand back. Only just able to before Dexter could've decided to lock his jaw.
"What'd I fuckin' tell you?" James hissed, checking his hand quickly, watching that crimson tear roll down the side of his index finger, swirling with the spit in this fire truck red hue in the low light of the lab. Yet Dexter just chuckled.
"I hardly thought of it till you mentioned it, just couldn't help myself." he purred before his hair got twisted and his head was tugged harshly as some kind of punishment. Feeling like his spine was creaking beneath such pressure, Dexter groaned loudly. "You- aahn- you're gonna fucking snap me." he gasped, hands slipping from the ledge of the window before he quickly clambered his way to clutch back at that bit of plastic saving him from slamming down onto the surface.
"Act like a brat, get treated like one." Doakes stated bluntly before forcing two fingers right up into Dexter in the same motion as finally letting go of that head of hair. A few strands between his fingers.
The sound that erupted from Dexter was ungodly, his whole body lurching forward and causing that box of scalpels to finally fall and open out onto the floor. Yet he didn't care - that voice in his head didn't comment on it. Hell, he wasn't even sure what the voice was thinking. As his head slumped forward in the same motion, Dexter's hands trembled, trying to keep his grip. Hair falling in front of his eyes, his head throbbing as much as his screaming wrist, neck aching - Dexter couldn't think about a single element of it. All that could occupy his mind, was taking deep breaths and trying to work through the utter agony going on down south.
Making sure his fingers were buried to the first knuckle, watching Dexter this way gave James this rush he couldn't explain. He noted the tremble in those toned shoulders as Dexter's head hung so low it would've appeared he was headless if it wasn't for those few wefts and flicks of hair that caught the light gasping through the slits in those blinds. The way it was creating waves down his back as he tried to stand on his own two feet in a stable way to little use.
It was vulnerable. Open... Human. He was transfixed in a way, but that didn't mean he was going soft on the psycho. No, in fact it made him wonder just what else he had to push in order to find this real human Dexter Morgan, because this could be an act. Everyone felt pain. He had to be sure.
Resting his now free hand on the small of Dexter's back, James waited until those ragged breaths were better because he wasn't a monster, but he wasn't going to outwardly ask about Dexter's wellbeing. Not after the stunts this fucker had pulled.
"Nmm..." Dexter shook his head some before gathering his breaths. "That it?" he panted, trying to maintain that nonchalance he so eloquently maintained before. But before he could get a verbal response, Doakes was curling his fingers inside. Slow beckoning motions, then scissoring faster, before pushing deeper up to the second knuckle and repeating the process all over again. Dexter screwed his eyes sight, as tight as the way his hands were clutching the useless plastic of the window frame. Ignoring the way his nails started catching on the plastic causing a sensation that would set his teeth on edge. Ignoring the way his body felt warmth like it hadn't felt before. Just breathing through.
Doakes gave a low chuckle, tilting his head as he watched Dexter shudder and breathe like a ragged mess. "You sure you knew what you were getting into here Morgan? I ain't even got the full way with you yet."
Dexter couldn't help the way his jaw clenched then. He imagined the plastic under his hands was Doakes and he squeezed so hard, his wrist that was definitely suffering from a moderate sprain, spasmed and gave out altogether, falling from the window frame and crashing onto the desk. So all Doakes gained in response to his question was a choked cry as Dexter's body went through all the flows of pain before he had even really begun to comprehend any of them.
There was something artistic about it. But why did he need this revelation to come from James Doakes of all people?
"I'll be taking that as a no." The Sergeant hummed, his turn to be cocky. His turn to feel on top as he kept working Dex. "Funny, what happened to you always being a step ahead?"
"Mhm-" Dexter started so he could gather himself before finally lifting his head, looking back at the man that was now three knuckles deep inside him. "Who says I haven't orchestrated all that's to come, Sergeant?" he challenged, getting that smirk back to his face. Even with all the sweat that had gathered on his forehead or torso, the way it was making his back glisten every time his body shuddered and caught the sunlight, Dexter wasn't going to let himself be seen as the weaker party here. He'd rather die.
Just you wait and see what I could do to you once my face can get close to that neck of yours. Unspeakable things. Things that would make you realise that there's really no chance for you here. At all.
Yet it would take more than that to stop James from looking so cocky. "We'll fucking see about that." he smirked, quickly pulling out his fingers. A trail of Dex's spit and the smear of blood slowly dripping away, yet Doakes paid it no mind. He clearly knew what advances to take.
Spitting in this hand, James started to stroke at himself a few times just to be sure, which Dexter found himself watching with glistening eyes. There was nothing small about this man, nothing calm, nothing subtle. Everything was loud and large. And his own body desires that he could once ignore, were slowly becoming a feature that he couldn't block out anymore. Ever present. Ever... tense.
Legs still spread with his body still arched over that desk, Dexter felt his dick twitch as he listened to those gruff grunts that the other gave as he lazily fucked his hand a few times. Dex watched the head peaking through that closed fist, slick and glistening, and swallowed. Taking the short break he had, and only having a hand on his back to contend with, the redhead took the opportunity to get himself comfortable. This was going to hurt, and he'd rather not have the precinct knowing he was about to be impaled.
Slowly, he rest his hands flat against the cool surface of the desk, lowering his hips too so that he could have his torso rest comfortably. A steady breath passed his lips in the same moment that Doakes seemed to give a bit of a broken moan. Brief however - he couldn't let himself go when he had a goal to achieve. Wet with more than the analyst's and his own spit, James looked back to his little project and smirked.
"Getting yourself all comfortable like I'm gonna be making love to you or somethin'?" Doakes mocked. "You fucker."
"Actually, I think you're the one sticking your dick in me, Sergeant."
Doakes sucked his teeth, hands roughly grasping hold of those pale hips he dragged Dexter even closer to his body, allowing the analyst's body to do most of the work to get to him, rather than trying to put himself out. If he cared about effort he would've prepped the red head for real.
"Yeah. Because I'm the one in control here." was all he said, before lining himself up and pushing. Hard.
Dexter inhaled sharply, pushing his forehead against his forearm before covering his mouth as soon as he felt the head pressing more and more into him. Stretching. Barging in. An intruder, quelled partially by the amount of spit and precum. But it was by no means enough to even take the edge off.
More. More. More. The passenger begs and pleads over the top of my pain. Craving to be split down the middle, hoping for some kind of grotesque release. It's worse than primal - I don't think they've even invented the word for it.
And before he could really register the prospect, copper began to flow to his mouth.
He'd clamped down on his hand with his teeth, blood rising and flowing from the surface with ease, painting the insides of his mouth with this metallic tang that was incomparable to anything else. The dizzy spell spread through his whole body as he stayed silent, sucking on the wound in order to keep himself adequately silent compared to the grunts and gasps that came from Doakes who was determined to get himself all the way in at the hilt within moments. Dexter could feel himself slipping. Eyes wanting to roll back with all these overwhelming sensations, heart starting to hammer in his chest as his breath grew ragged once again. Yet still, not a word or a moan would pass his lips.
Nothing.
And James just wasn't standing for it. "I know you're just tryin' - ah fuck - to piss me off." he growled, slamming the rest of the way into Dexter, in the same movement as wrapping a hand right around the analyst's aching dick. That, and a simple tug, sprung Dexter back to life. Like a car's jumpstart, Dexter's body shook as he almost slammed his head into the desk with the intense burst in his body, that began to fizzle out as soon as it started. No thanks to the way Doakes' thumb was pressed firmly over the leaking head of his cock.
Blinking as he tried to feel everything, Dexter gulped down air as if he hadn't drank something for weeks, turning his head as best he could in order to look back at the man responsible for winding and filling him all at once. Blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, Dexter's haze filled gaze finally focused up on the Sergeant who's face was still a mixture of rage yet... relief. Release rather. I mean, who wouldn't look released having their whole dick inside somebody?
"Forget snapping me." Dexter tried to shift but instantly regretted his decision for the shooting pain through his system, and the squeeze to his dick. "Y- you're hardly doing anything to me." he panted, swearing he could feel Doakes in his stomach, but he still had to play the winner here. A game of cat and mouse that was probably getting ridiculous at this point - but just because James was inside him, didn't mean he was victorious.
And just like that, just like I was hoping, James' cockiness faded. The bastard was persistent.
"Fucker." Doakes spat with pure irritation, and Dexter didn't need to see the look on his face in order to know that this was the unfiltered rage from before. The way James had slammed him into the desk by his neck. The way James had been staring at him all these weeks. The way he could easily cave his face in, it all amounted into these merciless thrusts that started fast and remained that way, regardless of Dexter's tightness. Regardless of the way the desk thumped against the wall. Regardless of the odd smash of glass as vials fell to the floor. None of it mattered to Doakes, he was wholly locked in on finally giving something that would wipe that smirk from Dexter's face. Forget human. He just needed to fuck the freak out of him.
Dexter was realising that his teasing, his mocking, his bratty behaviour from here wasn't coming from that initial goal anymore. It was feeding something else. Coming from the dark passenger it was almost automatic. Was this the new Dexter? The Dexter that was abandoning Harry's code, the Dexter that was following the springs of his own mind, the Dexter that craved things other than needing to kill now... the Dexter that felt a desire for being roughed around and fucked into next week? This was all of my own volition. Or was it all from this new form of my passenger?
Whatever it was, Dexter was smirking again like he was at the start. Genuine. Mocking. Sly. But that didn't mean he was unresponsive. Getting his breath back from the initial way it was knocked out of him due to that brute force, it was soon being spent on ragged broken moans. Noises that Dexter wasn't even aware he was capable of making, dizzying notes and chords that made him feel as though he was some kind of useless instrument.
"O-o-ohhh." Morgan dragged out his moan, his voice shaking from the shuddering force of his body alone, it was as if he was driving over bumps in the road. And for once, he felt himself flushed. His body blushing, well and truly. The red pattern had travelled its way down his ears, across his cheeks and dancing along his collar bones.
All he could really hear was the sound of skin smacking against skin, the blood swirling in his ears, and those wanton moans that found their way escaping past his lips purely because he had no chance of being able to keep them down.
Especially when that dick inside him found his prostate.
White hot pleasure ripped through his body relentlessly as Doakes rolled his hips, pushing himself deeper and hitting against that sweet bundle of nerves he knew he'd be able to find.
"Sergeant-" Dexter practically whimpered as that spot was starting to be as abused as the rest of him. Hammered and slammed against with reckless abandon, Dexter gave a strangled moan as he arched his back, pressing his face into the desk this time wholly on his own.
"What Morgan, what the fuck do you want?" Doakes groaned as his thrusts became fast and hard ruts. Like a dog, he hardly wanted to separate his hips away from crashing into Dexter's backside, that was gladly receiving as if the analyst was his bitch in heat. Doakes couldn't even think about the hand he had on Dexter's cock anymore, hurriedly returning it to those smaller hips. Still having that vice like grip to create bruises beyond belief, despite the heavy slick covering his fingers which should have made the very gesture impossible.
Dexter felt his moans slowly start to become the breathless chuckles he'd been hoping for. Surprised he still knew what words were with the way his head felt foggy and almost empty, he wasn't going to waste his chance. "Y- Ah! You call this fucking?" he managed as his hips arched up even more, like he was trying to escape the heavy amounts of pleasure bursting through his body that compared to nothing else. "This-" he had to balance on his toes as Doakes took control of his body, pulling his hips in time with those short and heavy thrusts to push even deeper. "This is hardly - nnf- h-hardly anything. I've had jerk offs in the shower better than this." And for a moment, Dexter did wonder just how much more he could take, what more could be given after such words, such lies.
Yet it wasn't that simple.
Sprays of cum shot from his aching cock far too easily, especially compared to what Dexter knew his body could do, as his legs trembled pathetically he finally reached climax. Becoming nothing but a limp weight in Doakes' grasp, his body shuddered from the aftershocks of the most intense orgasm he had had in his entire life that it had felt as though he had touched greatness before returning his body. It had all began to catch up to him - the sensations, the roughness, the prowling and lack of control from his dark passenger. Sleep was what he needed, what he now craved as his eyes began to lid. Flutter close.
And yet, Doakes wasn't far behind. The elusive tightness of the analyst had pushed him over the edge, dragged out this guttural moan from some depths that he hadn't even known were in himself. It was wild. Almost inhuman as his fingers most definitely left Dexter with bruises he'd have to mull over the next morning. But he wasn't ready let to go. That wasn't all he could leave Dex with.
He came, filling Dexter with that hot seed right against his tight bundle of nerves, and all that the blood expert's body could muster in response was a few weak spasms and whimpers.
It wasn't enough. He wasn't ready to let go.
He couldn't let that last comment lie... James Doakes wasn't a man that let things go by any stretch of the imagination. Which Dexter knew - of course he fucking did.
He'd planned for it to stick in his mind that way, for James to struggle even gathering his breath properly before he'd have a mind to put the man beneath him through anything more. Wasn't it obvious he'd planned such things?
This conclusion of course, was the one thing Dexter wasn't one step ahead on. His head was so empty he couldn't even conceive the inner workings of the Sergeant's head right now. But he should've been alert. He shouldn't have allowed the fatigue to set in, or that hollow side of himself to start taking over. Because before he knew it, his body was being moved.
A soft groan passed Dexter's lips as Doakes pulled out, but his eyes stayed close as the Sergeant lifted him like a rag doll. Clumsy.
"No you don't Morgan. We ain't finished here." James persisted as he splayed Dexter out on his back, letting his tired limbs crash against the desk, which was able to stir the killer enough for his eyes to open again. After pulling Dexter's pants and boxerd off completely, he took a moment to just let his eyes take in the work he hadn't seen whilst the other pulled himself out of that fatigue hole.
Not finished? Hold on, I'm pretty damn sure sex ends the way both of us just finished. I'm far from that naïve about these things.
And whilst this hollow voice was initially the one in control, it took the mere touch of Doakes' calloused hands to grasp at his thighs as if they were a pair of hooker's tits, that the dark passenger took over.
More. More. More. Fuck me into oblivion, ruin me. Let me feel that relief again, make the voice disappear.
Gaining his faculties back, Dexter ran his fingers along the smooth service of the desk as he processed 'waking' back up. "Mhm- round 2 already? I'm that irresistible?"
James rolled his eyes, forcing those still trembling legs apart with ease as he moved between them without so much as a slight second of doubt in his step. "You wish... I just ain't done, and I ain't leaving until I take all that I want from you, remember?" His voice hadn't lost any of that harshness Dexter was so familiar with, which made the analyst find his smirk as easy as anything.
"Uh huh... And what is it you want from me now? Filling me up not enough?" Dexter said dryly, shifting on the desk with a gentle moan as all that heat inside him moved, leaking and pooling in a thick stream. Adding to the endless mess on the floor. "Rude by the way. You never asked me to do that." He hummed with a soft chuckle, almost giddy with the amusement. Like being rammed inside of had made him all high on endorphins.
Doakes shrugged after watching the way his cum pooled out of Dexter that way. It just confirmed that it was nowhere near enough. He needed a mess. "I told you, I'm the one in control. I'm taking the step ahead, and there ain't a thing your sorry ass can do about it." He declared with full confidence, moving his hands off of Dexter's thighs in favour of running down the killer's chest, toying with the buttons of his shirt like he was debating opening it, but ignored that urge and gave into what suited his moods better. He grasped the fabric of that yellow toned fabric, yanking it hard which sent buttons scattering across the room like a hail of bullets.
Something about that sound in Dexter's post-fuck brain had him find arousal in it. He couldn't explain it, and my dark passenger was too absent to try but it didn't matter. He listened to his own wants, sliding a hand across his thigh to loosely wrap his fingers around his flaccid cock, it would've been good if he was able to get that far, but Doakes soon put a stop to it. Grasping at that wrist, he stared down at Dexter with those all too familiar piercing eyes.
"I don't fucking think so, freak. Unless you want this one sprained too." James snarled as Dexter locked eyes with him.
He debated what to say, how to respond as he kept that eye contact. Quickly passing his tongue across his lips, Dex gave a small nod as a gesture to have James get closer to his face.
Doakes narrowed his eyes, weighing that decision up before finally fulfilling the request, leaning his face down to Dexter's. Hot breaths and the distinct smells of each other radiating perfectly off of one another, enough to intoxicate and propel their next act alone.
But Dexter didn't let it get that far.
Before Doakes could say a word in question to any fucked up motives, Morgan angled his head, lifting his neck just enough to send his lips crashing haphazardly into the other's. Noses bumped but Dexter didn't back down as he attempted to hungrily claim the mouth of his enemy. He lasted a good few moments before Doakes released Dexter's wrist to be able to grab at the analyst's throat and push him down, putting a sharp end to whatever game Dexter was thinking be could start.
Yet little did the Sergeant know, that played perfectly into Dexter's hand.
The redhead smirked, wide, as he locked his teeth down onto Doakes' bottom lip, tugging in the same moment as the other attempted to push him down and break it all off. The flurry of blood started, catching in Dexter's mouth, seeping between his teeth as he gave a soft groan. Relishing in the warmth that his body craved some semblance of.
Large droplets became spatters against the killer's bare chest before Doakes had managed to move back and cover his mouth, gazing down at the pooling blood in the palm of his hand. The split on his lip was more like a gash, bleeding bad. Enough for the tang of copper to hit the air, more than that first bite, and only slightly more than the bite Dexter gave himself.
But it was enough to make him furious.
"You've fucking done it now you bastard." James snarled, grabbing Dexter's throat and squeezing with enough force that it only took moments this time before that smug face was turning red.
Dexter chocked out a moan, eyes starting their way to rolling back as his hips too reacted without his say so. Bucking a little into the air like he could feel someone's hand or mouth teasing him. "H-hurry up and... And fu..." He started gasping for breath more urgently, yet still didn't struggle.
He just lay there. Naked. Choking. With a blood stained mouth and those few spatters creating a larger surface area every time his chest rose and fell, trying to get any once of oxygen in.
And James smirked slowly as he watched, realizing he held this much power in this moment - yet only this moment. He was still human at the end of the day and he wasn't looking to murder Dexter. Even if he had killed easily in the past.
So he finally let go, fingers toying with Dexter's neck still, just ghosting a trail around where he imagined bruises would take their shapes tomorrow.
Working past a coughing fit, Dexter hauled air to his lungs and gazed up at Doakes with this mixture of things. Those lidded eyes from before when that mouth was working, yet there was also something that suggested Dexter was... impressed.
"...unless you want to commit two crimes for the price of one, I suggest you fuck me properly before killing me, Sergeant."
"You give me orders one more damn time, I won't be responsible for my actions."
"Are you responsible for these?" Dex hummed, tilting his head as he managed to prop himself up enough. Doakes seemed to allow this as he let his hand fall away from Dexter's throat.
"These actions that have me under you. Are these the actions of Sergeant James Doakes... or something more." His eyes glistened with mischief, with darkness.
And yet, this time, it was Doakes' turn to play the silent card.
He brushed all that away, grabbing at those thighs once again in the same manner, yet this time was harshly pulling at them to the point where he wouldn't have been surprised if he ended up dislodging sockets. Dexter went tipping back, his back slamming against the desk because what was new? But what followed made both Dexter and his dark passenger feel that the same old action of being slammed around was worth it.
In a blur, James hoisted Dexter's legs to his shoulders before letting them bend at the knee and pushing them back down again. The analyst was being folded, pressed and forced into another contorting position. Yet this time, one that left him very open, and able to see everything play out instead of having to guess by motion or sound. His cock rest against his stomach, and Dexter already envisioned the type of mess he was about to be covered in.
Already semi hard, it only increased as Doakes lay his cock flush against his which was enough to elicit a moan from the tired forensic specialist.
"What are you-? oh."
Morgan soon moaned, lulling his head back as James began lazily thrusting and rubbing their cocks together, all on display on the stomach of the analyst.
Each experience he was being put through sent a tidal wave of ripples through his body, to the point where Dexter was wondering if the slut mask wasn't so much a mask, and more a state of self if this is what it meant to have such selfish and sexual desires.
Those rosy heads moving back and forth from one another, slicking each other up as a number of lewd and frankly down right dirty sounds came from such a simple rhythmic action. All made worse by James lowering his head and spitting thick streams of saliva across their cocks, creating more than enough lube that the action became slick, even picking up a pace of its own.
That alone was going to stick with Dexter as he managed to force his head down to watch, all the while Doakes was watching him.
Watching those 'ohs' pass over his face or the way Dexter's brow would furrow before he'd inhale sharply. If he wasn't so hungry for this last fuck, he'd have let them complete themselves right then and there by simply rutting up against each other's dicks until their hip bones dug into each other painfully so.
Once they were both hard, Doakes didn't want to waste a moment. He pulled away, regardless of any protest, and thrust himself completely into Dexter. Hands still grasping those legs, Doakes dug his nails into that tender flesh as he gave a deep moan at the sensation.
All of Dexter's heat compared to the icy start, how he was still tight despite being ruined mere moments ago, and knowing that the slick of his own cum was still buried deep inside.
It was like the perfect storm.
"You wanted a real fuck." Doakes groaned as he gazed down at Morgan. "Here's your real fuck."
He started slow.
But only for the first thrust. Making sure he was buried into Dexter to the hilt, James began to slowly pull his way out, watching it happen just like the analyst. The way Dexter's form moved around him, accommodating the girth that slowly withdrew, but the man himself could hardly stand it.
The redhead was already breathing heavily, eyes lidded and mouth agape as he watched that cock slide slowly out of him. He didn't know how this would be any different, what he was in for. Until it happened.
The Sergeant kept going until enough of his tip remained inside that he didn't slip out, a steady procedure that clearly took the time. Until, his eyes flicked up again to meet Dexter's, and he hammered straight back into the other. Full length, no warning, as fast as a bullet with the cracking sound of slapping skin to match the shot.
Dexter threw his head back, eyes closing as his overstimulated body got driven crazy on the way Doakes was thrusting into him all over again. It felt better than before, stronger, more enforcing. And Dexter forgot how to talk far sooner than he anticipated.
Unable to move his legs, or really move at all under the way James had him pinned this time, Dexter gave out rather helpless moans. He never thought he liked being restrained, but maybe he just wasn't restrained within the right circumstances. Maybe all this rage was what it really took for Dexter to be able to feel such a desire. He wasn't up for analysing the details, details could wait when he was in the moment and without the voices in his head.
***
This go was quicker than the last, both men coming to the end of their energy levels, and the last of their day's allowance of rage.
As they came, hardly in unison, and Dexter twice over, there was little feeling in that small lab aside from the understanding of what hey had just done.
Doakes gathered his breath, slowly pulling himself up of the chest of Dexter as he pulled out in the same fluid motion.
Dexter hardly reacted, having cum three times and his body practically throbbing all over, he was almost blacking out with the need for recovery and sleep. He looked a state, lips swollen, neck red and bruising. Not to mention the amount of cum on his stomach.
It was plain to see, and hadn't gone unnoticed by the Sergeant.
After cleaning himself up and sorting his appearance, Doakes pulled Dexter's boxers back onto his body but left it at that.
He wasn't Dexter's babysitter, and none of this changed what he felt for the psycho deep down. It had no reason to.
Kicking some broken glass aside, Doakes took a few breaths before heading to the door. His hand lingered over the handle, a moment of thought, and then it was gone. Just like he was. A distant ghost of a memory in that lab.
But he had to admit... between the blood around his mouth, the stains across his body, Dexter Morgan looked damn near human, laying on that desk, fast asleep.