Chapter Text
Rain sputtered from outside, Mother Nature spiraling in her fury against the maltreatment with which mankind treated her. Dex did not mind the rain - the strong wind, rare in New York City this time of year, was calming, as it made his exterior world spin just as much as it did within the dark corners of his consciousness.
He wondered if someone else found calm in chaos, too.
He ironed his t-shirt, the blue waves of wrinkled fabric flattening underneath the heated metal. The steam from the handheld appliance was refreshing, but he turned off the switch as soon as his street clothes were as neat as he wanted them to be.
Lightning illuminated his shadow along the apartment wall, and he briefly blinked at it before pulling the shirt over his head, and the jeans over his undergarments and legs. He sighed before leaving, double-checking the refrigerator, each window lock, and the microwave before he stepped through the door, rattling it to ensure the lock was secured before he left.
“Another day out, Tony?” Mrs. Smithers’ brows furrowed in worry for Tony, unaware of the band of knives barely covered by his thin jacket.
“Yes, Mrs. Smithers.” Dex responded plainly, giving her a grin lacking the twinkle in his eye. That he saved for his hobby, the only thing that brought him great joy, if he ever believed in such a thing. “Have a good day.”
Mrs. Smithers shook her head, crossing her arms as she leaned onto the doorway. “Such a busy boy.” She commented. “He could use a good girl in his life.”
Dex didn’t care to listen to her lamenting - he could not care less of what she thought of him at all, actually, so long as it doesn’t blow his cover. His soil for a budding and blossoming romance was cancerous (such that Dex could not experience such feelings, not for long before he plucked at her flaw, and such a flaw poisoned her entirely); Dex did not care for movies with intimate scenes, and scowled at the closeness of two people, unclothed, skin to skin, as beads of sweat exchanged between them.
The first time he experienced attraction was in his early 20s in the military. There, barbed wire slashed across his hands, on the underside of his palms; while he was in the infirmary, he hissed and groaned while receiving bandages, attempting to contain the erection underneath his uniform. The nurse did not notice - or pretended not to notice, for her own sanity - even when Dex breathed heavily and released a small whimper as he met his release, his lips laxing as he relished in his first orgasm.
When discussing such a topic with allies, Dex would avoid eye contact and lie, a curve presenting itself on his lips as he entertained his perverted fantasies:
“She held a knife to my throat while she rode me, too.” Dex explained, goosebumps forming on his clothed skin as he expressed his fantasy to those listening.
“You seriously into that? Damn, Poindexter, that’s just…” one replied, trailing off in disbelief.
“How did you even know that you liked it? Did she just…bring it up one day?” Another asked, adjusting his glasses on his face.
Dex shrugged, his face illuminated by the low-lit lamp. “We talked about it, thought we could try it, and…it just felt right.” Dex’s lips froze, preventing him from discussing the details leading to his ejaculation: kind words spoken only for him to hear, only for him to know.
When he turned the corner, you were descending from the stairs leading to the apartment complex, your kitten heels hitting the uneven concrete with a small clack.
Dex did not directly look at you, but his peripherals allowed him to capture each sway of your hips, skin exposed by the delicious wind that day. Why you decided to wear a midi skirt was beyond him, but he was thankful for such stormy weather to lift the material, revealing your thighs to him in ways he only thought of when he fisted his cock in the shower.
You didn’t even know his name - you knew him, saw him nearly every day on your way to the library - but never bothered to ask him for his name. Perhaps it was the low clouds, high pressure, or just the merciless wind taunting your reckless choice of attire, but you turned around and scooted your headphone away from one of your ears, facing Dex. “Hey.”
He stopped, hands in his pockets. He feigned innocence, turning around to determine whether or not it was him you were acknowledging with your brown eyes and hilltop cheeks. Then, when he didn’t see anybody behind him (of course he didn’t), he pointed to himself, index finger poked at his chest.
He mouthed, me?, to which you nodded. “I see you everyday on my walk, and I don’t even know your name, but could you do me a favor?”
The way you scrunched your nose in mild embarrassment was endearing, and nearly thawed his frozen heart. “Sure.” He passed you the same grin.
“Could you walk with me to the library? I dunno if you go there, but the wind is really unforgiving today, and-”
“Asbolutely.” This time, the smile met his eyes, but the corners of his lips stitched into something you couldn’t put your finger on. “Do you want me to walk behind you, or…”
You opened your mouth to answer, but before you could even speak one word, an abrupt gust of wind picked up, lifting your skirt to reveal your navy boyshorts underneath. Your hands rushed to pin down the thin fabric, and you cursed under your breath, heat rising to your cheeks. “Sorry.” You were truly apologetic, unable to meet Dex’s gaze. “I dunno how to ask this, but could you just…be behind me a little bit?”
Dex cocked his head to the side upon hearing your absurd request. “Not like grinding on me, but just…being there. I promise I’m not a serial killer.”
The last statement drew an unexpected chuckle from Dex, amused at your discomfiture at the situation, and your request to begin with. Still, he obliged, stepping closer to you until his clothed chest was near your shoulders, and you noticed just how large was compared to you. “Don’t get any weird ideas, now.” You warned Dex, although both of you knew you were speaking aloud to yourself.
You placed the cushioned ear piece back on your exposed ear, walking with Dex while humming to tunes you played on your headphones. Dex hadn’t been this close to someone without taking their life, but wasn’t disgusted like he typically felt when strangers attempted such proximity.
He noticed new things about you, too: your hair had notes of peach and bergamot, while your thick black cardigan draping over your shoulders and dropping at your hips was soft and carried notes of vanilla and cinnamon; the spice of cinnamon drew him in naturally, reminding him of a home for which he longed, and he wanted for himself.
When the wind began to blow, you would walk slower, closing the gap between you and him; Dex didn’t notice at first, only picking up the hint when he felt something brush against his clothed crotch. You turned your head to give him a sympathetic grin and a soft, “sorry!” as you waited until the wind dwindled for you to widen the gap between your bodies.
You did it again each time the wind picked up in force, driving your bodies together; you didn’t notice that after the third time, Dex’s hands moved to hold your hips, his fingers trembling when he realized his actions; you did, however, notice it after the fifth time the wind picked up, the gust so unforgiving that it howled when it flossed between skyscrapers - you felt heat on either side of you and looked back up at Dex, whose eyes widened as he quickly retreated his hands.
“Thank you.” You grinned back at him, replacing his hands on your hips. The way you gazed at him was innocent, a vulnerable gazelle in the wooded sunrise, and he wanted you to stare at him like that forever.
Yet your focus was once again on the trek to the library, one foot in front of the other. Dex watched your footwork from above, noticing how the tip of your booties flared each time you took a step, and how they poked slightly out each time they pressed against the concrete; he watched how you thoughtlessly dug underneath your fingernails for dirt and grime, a habit he found revolting, but intriguing, and; Dex noticed how nervous you were. Each time you stopped at a crosswalk, your eyes darted to and fro, your expression sharp and almost wired. He wondered if something made you feel so on edge, and blinked the thought away to temper his rising frustration.
These habits were new to him, only discovered after accepting the opportunity to be so close to you. Even though he didn’t want to admit it, he liked the way your hips dipped in a certain way under your clothes, like an imperfect vase sculpted out of earthy clay. When his grip tightened on your hips, you pretended not to notice, although Dex acknowledged the raised hairs on the back of your neck, and the orange hue forming on your terracotta skin.
“Thank you again for doing this.” Dex didn’t realize you two were on the steps leading to the library entrance, much to his disheartenment. “Really, I know it was a weird request, but I appreciate it.” You were one step above him, your eyes meeting his. At this close range, you noticed the crow’s feet stickered around his hazel eyes, and the strands of gray blending with his otherwise hay-colored stubble.
A corner of Dex’s lips twitched into a smirk. “No problem,” he began before the other end of his lips rose, too, sending you an uneven smile. “Anytime.”
“What’s your name again?” Your black cardigan hugged your shoulders and arms, but did not cover your bare neck, exposed for Dex to stare at while you awaited an answer.
“Dex.” He answered mindlessly.
“Dex…” you echoed. “Nice to meet you.” You presented him a sweet smile, and only then did he realize that he accidentally gave you his real name.
He was too distracted. How unfortunate.