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amberlynnmurdock · 25 days ago

Text

The First Time

Pairing: Benjamin "Dex" Poindexter x Reader

Genre: FLUFF, angst, SMUTTTT 18+!!!!

Summary: Dex and his neighbor become good friends, so much so she only trusts him to take her virginity.

Based off this anon message

Note: I'M SO SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT BUT HERE IT IS I HOPE YOU GUYS LOVE IT

She’s the purest thing he’s ever known, and she lives right down the hall from him. Dex liked to keep his space neat and tidy; it was never dirty or out of order. He never allowed anyone into his space. Dex valued his privacy and, even more so, his alone time, despite feeling the lows of such often. Everything was a routine he had to strictly follow: wake up, shower, get ready for work, work, come home, be alone.

She ended up fitting into his routine, somehow. Only someone as pure and kind as she could find her way into Dex’s space--and so easily, too. She had recently graduated from New York University with a degree in forensic science and was living alone for the first time.

He’ll never forget when she started talking to him in the elevator, one rainy evening.

“What floor?” He asked her.

“6,” she replied. It was the same as his. Dex clicked the elevator button.

“You work for the FBI?” She couldn’t help but notice the large letters on the sleeve of his navy blue jacket. Dex typically took it off before going out in public, but that day’s mission had exhausted him so much, he forgot to.

“Yes,” Dex answered and shifted uncomfortably. He wasn’t used to friendly conversation with strangers. It was natural for him to have his guard up.

“That’s cool,” she sighed. “I just graduated from NYU last year. I got a job at the 15th Precinct in their forensics department, but working for the FBI is a dream of mine. Do you like it?”

“It’s tough,” Dex said. “It pays the bills.”

The elevator dinged. If he weren’t on the same floor as her, he’d be happy. He let her exit the elevator first and trailed slowly behind her. She waited for him so they could walk in tandem. He sighed, realizing he had no escape.

“Do you mind if I come by sometime and ask you questions about your job? I’m new to the area—new to living here, and I’d like to know that I have a personal FBI agent to call a neighbor and—friend,” she smiled at him. Dex squinted his eyes slightly, amused by her outgoing personality and interest in his job. He wasn’t particularly a fan of being put on the spot like this, but seeing the way she looked so hopeful at him—who was he to say no?

“Sure.”

And that’s how she ended up sitting across from him at his kitchen table, notebook on her right side, a cup of decaf coffee on her left. It had been like this for a year now—like clockwork, she was at his door at 11 PM, sometimes even later (depending on when he came home from work) to talk about his day and ask questions about anything related to his job. Dex grew to look forward to these late-night conversations with her—it was oddly reminiscent of his meetings with Dr. Mercer.

Now, he knew these weren’t therapy sessions, and if anything, he was the one giving her advice and information, but it was comforting to talk to her about his day. He found comfort in explaining his job duties and answering any curiosities she had. She was kind, probably the kindest thing in his life right now, and he needed that. He found it harder to sleep if she didn’t come by and spend an hour with him talking about his job.

“Wow,” she breathed. “So when you guys detain whoever you need to, how soon does forensics show up to the scene?”

“They’re already on their way before we even lock the handcuffs,” Dex said. He watched as she scribbled something in her notebook. He only recently noticed how attracted he was to her—he only ever saw her at night, and she was always, more often than not, in her pajamas. He started to take notice of her rotation. Last week, she had light pink polka dot ones on. Tonight, she’s in a plain light blue set. Next was probably her black silk ones. It was always in her natural state that he saw her. No makeup, disheveled hair. Friendly smile. Curious and his favorite part, attentive, eyes.

He rarely ever saw her during the day. He was up at the crack of dawn going to the headquarters, and she was always in three hours later. She always came home before him, and when she’d hear Dex’s familiar knock on her door, she knew he was ready for their nightly catch-up.

Neighbors catching up…friends, like she said one time. That’s what they were, Dex supposed.

He didn’t think of this as an almost every night thing. After the first few nights, he let her into his apartment, Dex thought it was a done deal. On the fifth night, just as he was about to get in bed, he heard a knock at his door.

“I brought ice cream,” she was holding two tubs of Ben and Jerry’s in her hands, and squeezing her notebook under her arm. “Mint chocolate cookie or strawberry cheesecake.”

Dex grabbed the mint chocolate cookie from her grasp and let her inside with a tired smile.

He had also grown a bit protective over her as her neighbor.

He remembered one time he got home from work at 10:30 PM—earlier than usual. He knocked on her door three times—it was his signal that he was ready and home—but there was no answer on the other side of the door. Dex pressed his ear against it and listened for any movement or sound. Nothing. He checked his watch and saw it was nearly 11:00 PM. It wasn’t like her to not be home already.

He pulled out his phone and called her. It immediately went to voicemail.

Dex clicked his phone off and rested it on his lips. The increasing heaviness in his chest was something he only felt when he was on missions—he was anxious. Is she okay?

Something inside of him locked, or maybe, unlocked at the thought of her never coming home. The thought of her never sitting across from him at his kitchen table ever again. It unlocked a feeling he kept hidden away as best as he could, despite it being the most constant thing in his life. Feeling abandoned—left behind. Alone.

For the first time in his life, Dex didn’t want to be alone.

Dex was too numb to go back into his apartment. He pressed his back against the wall of the hallway and slid down to sit on the floor. He decided he would wait there until she came home.

After an hour of staring into nothing, but mentally replaying all the times he’s had someone leave him, the elevator doors dinged. Dex was too tired to look at who it was, too afraid of disappointment if it wasn’t her. He kept his eyes forward.

“Dex?” She started walking faster towards him. “Are you okay?” Dex whipped his head up and immediately stood up on his feet.

“Yeah,” Dex nodded, his voice feeling thick and dry. “I was—worried. About you. Your phone…”

“It died,” she explained. “And I forgot my charger. I ended up staying late to finish up some work. You waited for me here?” She asked with a hint of a smile on her face.

“Yeah,” Dex nodded, meeting her eyes finally. She still looked as wide awake as ever, full of energy and positivity he wished he could emulate. Something compelled him to wrap his arms around her and bring her close in an embrace—so he did. He sighed in relief. “Don’t forget your charger again,” he said in her hair.

“I won’t,” she pulled back, suddenly catching on to the seriousness of his tone. “Rough day? Is it too late to talk in your apartment?”

“Not if it’s too late for you.”

It was strange, the effect she had on him. It only grew more intense after each night together. Dex watched her carefully now, across from his table. He couldn’t remember the lat time he let someone get close to him. He couldn’t remember the last time he had allowed himself to connect with someone since Dr. Mercer passed away. It was the first time he possibly found a new North Star. He hoped this one wouldn’t go out.

She brought a warmth to his apartment that it was lacking before. He never spent time at the kitchen table unless it was the morning and he was having his coffee before work. He never thought he’d spend most of his nights here, with her, talking about his day and duties as an FBI agent. She was part of his routine now. And if there’s anything about Dex, it’s that he doesn’t like when his routine is disrupted.

“Can I ask you something we haven’t talked about before?” She looked up from her notebook and placed her pen down on the table. Dex shrugged his shoulders. There wasn’t much he wouldn’ttell her at this point.

“Anything,” he said.

“Have you ever had to kill someone?”

It took a lot to catch Dex off guard. But this was a question he wasn’t expecting to be asked so blatantly.

“In the line of duty, obviously,” she followed up quickly, responding to his reaction.

Dex held her gaze—he didn’t want his answer to drive her away. In case it did, he wanted to memorize the way she was looking at him right now. The hopeful curiosity. The kindness without judgement in her eyes. He broke eye contact and sighed.

“Yes,” Dex said, rearranging the napkin holder in front of him.

“Because you had no choice?”

“Yes,” he lied.

She shook her head. Not in disapproval, but in disbelief. “I can’t imagine that. Do you—do you remember the first time you had to?”

Dex does remember his first time killing someone. But it wasn’t in the line of duty as an FBI agent. It wasn’t even when he served time in the army.

It was when he was a child and had dreams of becoming a baseball star. The memory flashed in Dex’s mind as quickly as the baseball ricocheted off the fence and hit Coach NAME in the head.

“I do,” Dex said. “It was a cartel member. We had the group where we wanted them, but one guy wouldn’t give up the fight. He grabbed for a weapon to shoot at my partner—Nadeem—but I got to him before he could do anything more.”

“And by got to him, you mean…”

“Mmhm,” Dex hummed. “Does that make you uncomfortable?”

“No,” she shook her head. “I know it’s not easy work. I know these things have to happen. But I wonder, are you okay? Knowing that that happened? And what you had to do?”

“I’m okay,” Dex said, and he wasn’t sure if it was a lie or not. “It was either him or Nadeem. They train you to think fast in those situations. You can’t waste time.”

“I’m really glad I chose the science side of it all.” She leaned back in his chair, and he liked how she made it look so casual. He wanted to mirror her but didn’t. “I don’t know if I could handle it like you do.”

“We make the mess,” Dex said, leaning forward. “Your side cleans it up.”

“That’s an interesting way to put it,” she replied. “Accurate.”

Dex sipped his coffee. “Anything else you’d like to know, Ms. Forensics?”

She smiled at the nickname. “I guess… out of personal curiosity… what did it feel like? Taking a life like that? Even if the guy was bad.”

Dex twisted the mug in his hands. Truthfully, it made no difference to him. But what would she want to hear?

“It’s hard,” Dex said. “Really hard. But these situations aren’t black and white. We have a job to do. We have to protect people. Protect our own. That’s what matters at the end of the day.”

“I see,” she said, nodding her head. “Do you have counselors at work you can talk to?”

“We have to undergo a psych-eval every once in a while.”

“That’s good,” she pressed her lips together. “Well, if the counselors aren’t always there for you, just know that I am, Dex.”

And there it was—that sweetness he had become so accustomed to. He couldn’t imagine his nights without it now. Dex smiled a little and focused his gaze on the table.

“It’s late,” she said after a few moments of silence. “I think I’ve run you dry for tonight. Got any plans this weekend?” She asked him this all the time, and Dex always had the same answer for her.

“No,” he said. “Catching up on sleep, maybe.”

“Me too,” she began to close her notebook and collect her pens, to Dex’s disappointment.

“You can come by tomorrow night,” Dex said with hope in his voice. “If you’re not busy and you feel like talking.”

She smiled a little and nodded her head. “I’d like that. Maybe instead of me asking about work, we can just hang?”

Dex took her empty coffee mug and wiped a coffee stain with the pad of his thumb. Her question echoed in his head.

“I’d like that,” he answered, meeting her tired eyes. “Maybe I can ask about your life and work for once.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t be getting much,” she laughed, and Dex hoped she was kidding. “But I’ll do my best to highlight the interesting parts.” She began her walk to his door, notebook in her hand. Dex unlocked it from behind her, gently brushing his arm against hers by mistake. He took a step back to give her space.

“Good night, Dex,” she whispered. “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

“Good night,” he softly said back. He watched her as she walked halfway down the hall to her apartment. He always waited until she was inside and locked the door before going back and retreating to his bedroom. When she was, he closed his door and locked it. He was alone again.

◎◎◎

Dex wasn’t worried about having her over until the reality finally settled in and he realized that she would be coming over in a different context than usual. He couldn’t remember the last time he hosted something for someone and had food ready—this was possibly his first time ever. When he came home, early for a Friday night, he checked his fridge to see if he had any snacks and felt silly for it—of course, he had nothing, except a carton of milk and some eggs.

He went back out to the corner store and paused in the middle of the aisle. What did she like to eat? He only remembered the time she brought ice cream to his place. He went to the freezer and grabbed the same flavors of Ben and Jerry’s she had once brought: mint chocolate cookie and strawberry cheesecake. Dex balanced the two cartons in his hands and went through the chips aisle. He wasn’t sure what to get, and the options were overwhelming. He settled on a jar of salsa, French onion and guacamole—that way, she’d have more than one option. He also grabbed two kinds of chips: salted and hint of lime. He also threw in a container of chocolate chip cookies.

After leaving the store, he realized that she may be interested in drinking something. He wasn’t a drinker at all—alcohol didn’t mix well with his medication—so he didn’t have a clue of what she may like. Wine? Beer? He found himself inside the liquor store, even more overwhelmed by the options. When was the last time he was in a place like this?

He grabbed one bottle of red wine (Pinot Noir), one bottle of white wine (Sauvignon Blanc), and one bottle of rose for good measure. At the counter, he saw a bag of chocolate-covered pretzels and grabbed it.

Dex had his hands full on his way back to his apartment. He’d never had this much food in his house—the bags practically filled his counter. He laid every snack out but paused midway—they wouldn’t be sitting at his kitchen table. Maybe on the couch? Dex began to move all the snacks to the coffee table. He placed each dip in a bowl and had two more bowls filled with each type of chip he bought. He left the ice cream in the freezer. He put the chocolate-covered pretzels in a smaller bowl.

Then, he put each bottle of wine on the counter so that when she first walked in, she could choose. Dex finally sat down on his couch and checked the time. It was almost 10 PM. She should be home soon.

◎◎◎

His apartment felt cold and dark until she finally graced it with her presence. She was in her black silk pajamas, as Dex correctly predicted was next in her rotation. When she first walked inside Dex’s apartment and saw the line up of wine and snacks, she couldn’t help but smile at how endearing it all was, especially the hopeful look on Dex’s face as he watched her take it all in.

“I wasn’t sure what you’d like,” Dex said, scratching his neck. “So I got a bit of everything.”

“It’s okay,” she looked at him, this well-trained and tough FBI agent who looked like he spent the last hour stressing over salted or hint of lime chips and ended up getting both. “It’s perfect. It’s exactly what I wanted.”

Dex sighed in relief. “I also got different wines you can choose from.”

She looked at each bottle. She was naturally inclined to reach for the red. But she wanted to make sure Dex had a say in the matter, too. “Which do you prefer?” She asked him.

He shook his head. “Oh, I don’t drink. I got that for you. All of it’s for you.”

“Well, if you’re not drinking, then I’m not either,” she said smiling. “I do want to dig into those chocolate-covered pretzels, though.”

“They’re for you,” Dex said.

She walked over to his couch, but Dex stayed standing by his kitchen table. He didn’t take a moment before to take in how different his apartment looked whenever she was in it. Before, everything looked as tidy as it needed to be: empty coffee table, couch lacking warmth, unused empty bowls. But she graced his apartment with her presence by making it feel comfortable. A couch is meant to be sat on, a coffee table meant to have snacks, and bowls meant to have food—just for her. He’s never seen his place so lively and it’s all because of her.

It was like watching a science experiment in real time. The cause and effect. The hypothesis and results. Except, he felt in the thick of the experiment and the results could be a wild card. He was just happy to witness it happening. How she was so good at making it all feel so comfortable. He liked having her around. Dex wanted her to stay a while.

“Well don’t be shy, Dex,” she patted the seat next to her on his couch. “Come stay a while.”

Dex laughed and made his way to his couch. He felt like a stranger in his own house. How should he delicately handle this new context of hanging out? He was used to her having a notebook and her doing the talking. He felt the pressure and was afraid he wouldn’t live up to expectations.

He sat down next to her—not too close. A comfortable distance. He reached for a salted chip and dipped in the guacamole first. During training, they taught agents to start conversations with witnesses or suspects casually. He felt he could apply those tactics here, with her.

“So,” Dex began, chewing his chip of guacamole, “first thing’s first. How was your day at work?”

Dex didn't know he had it in him, to curate and carry a conversation as long as he did with her. He asked her things about her life he didn’t know before—how she got into forensic science, where she’s from, who she used to be. She’s only 22—she’s got her whole life ahead of her, and she’s only getting started.

When she revealed her age, Dex was slightly taken aback. The thought never crossed his mind but now that he knew she was a bit younger than him, he felt that sense of protection he had over her grow in size. All those times she had come home late, he never knew she was vulnerable like that. Maybe it was wrong to think that way… she’s independent and lives on her own. She can take care of herself. But it doesn’t have to be that way.

Still, he had to know something.

“My age… you’re not uncomfortable?” Dex asked in a small voice, avoiding eye contact.

“No,” she shook her head. “Not unless you are.”

“I’m not,” Dex answered quickly. “It never crossed my mind to ask how old you were. I didn’t think there was that much of a difference.”

“Seven years is nothing,” she shrugged. Most of my coworkers are that or even more.”

“I just want you to be comfortable,” Dex admitted. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to be here.”

“I want to be here,” she said. “I like talking to you. You’ve told me a lot about the FBI. That’s not the only reason I like talking to you, though.”

“Why’s that?” Dex couldn’t help but ask.

“You’re nice to me,” she simply stated. “I got lucky that you’re my neighbor. I feel safe.”

“Even though you know my line of work isn’t always sunshine and daises—even though you know what I’ve done,” Dex said in a low voice, “You still feel safe?”

“You’ve given me no reason to think otherwise,” she said softly. “You’ve shown me one side of you. I’m shocked you haven’t figured out I’m trying to get to know all of you, Dex.”

Dex held her gaze and felt something blooming slowly in his chest. “What else do you want to know?”

“We can save it for another time. You asked me here tonight because you wanted to get to know me,” she nudged his shoulder with hers, the first physical touch they’d shared all evening.

“That’s right,” Dex said with a small nod.

“Your turn,” She said with a welcoming smile. Dex took a deep breath. Truthfully, he felt the basic questions had run dry. He knew all there was to know about her on the surface: how she got into forensic science, where she studied, where she’s from, where she works. When he was serving time in the army, the comrades he was with often sat in circles in their tents and started playing games like Never Have I Ever or Would You Rather? He didn’t want to play those games with her now, but he wanted to get to know her on a deeper level. Those games typically made people reveal things about themselves. If she felt so safe around him, Dex didn’t see any harm in asking more personal questions.

“Do you remember what your prom was like?” Dex asked with a sideways smile.

“My prom?” Her eyes lit up at the question to Dex’s relief. He nodded. “Oh my, gosh, well, yes. It was such a weird time for me. I actually didn’t have a date my junior year, but senior year I did. I was the worst prom date.”

Dex smiled, trying to live vicariously through her experiences. “I don’t believe that for a second.”

“It’s true. I had a crush on someone else so by the end, I ditched my prom date and went to a different party. But I had so much fun with my friends. I miss the freedom of being that young,” she smiled. “Good music, free food. Sneaking alcohol at the after party. What about you?”

Dex looked away from her and shrugged his shoulders. “I didn’t go to prom. I didn’t technically have a prom.” It wasn’t entirely a lie. The institution Dex grew up in threw a makeshift prom for the seniors, but it didn’t have good music. It had free food that came from the cafeteria they ate at every day already. And absolutely no alcohol by any means. And Dex didn’t have a date. “I remember sneaking out to leave early and head back to my room.”

“Room?” She questioned.

“I grew up in a Boys’ Home,” Dex lied again. “They invited other homes for orphans but it was awkward. No one really knew anyone. I swore off events like that after that.”

“When’s the last time you went to an event?”

“Probably then.”

“Dex,” she said his name, “we’ll have to find an event for us to go to and change that.” Dex smiled. He’d only consider it for her.

“What color was your dress?” He asked her.

“White,” she said. “With a bunch of sparkles. My friends gave me shit about it, saying white was for weddings, but I didn’t care. I loved my dress. It was an off-shoulder dress. I felt like a princess.”

Dex tried to imagine it in his mind. White—fitting for her.

“I’m sure you looked like one, too,” Dex said quietly. “Have you ever traveled outside the city?”

“Of course,” she smiled again. “I’ve been for Orlando, Boston… the entire east coast, pretty much. Outside, I’ve been to London.”

“London,” Dex said impressed. “Did you like it?”

“I did but, it’s got nothing on New York. Where have you traveled?”

“I’ve only ever traveled for the army,” Dex answered. “Nowhere exciting. And definitely not for vacation.”

“We’ll use up your PTO days soon,” she nudged his knee with hers. Dex liked the hopefulness in her tone—the idea of what she was saying coming to fruition one day. And he liked that she said we.

“Do you remember your first heartbreak?” Dex asked her.

“Oh, Dex,” she sighed. “Who doesn’t? It happened recently in college. About around the time I was a freshman. Of course, I fell for a guy who was older than me. He had me in the palm of his hand for an entire year… until he graduated and dumped me like that. I was so head over heels for him, but it taught me a great lesson. Never put your life on hold for someone else.”

“That’s true,” Dex said. “I’m sorry he did that to you. That must’ve been hard.”

“It’s okay,” she shrugged. “I hardly think about it now, unless someone asks me. Do you remember yours?”

“Yeah,” Dex replied. “Like you said, who doesn’t?”

“What was it?”

“It’s not a typical heartbreak.”

“It’s all the same feeling.”

“I guess it would be when my parents died,” Dex said, meeting her eyes. “And then I was put in that home when I was a kid.”

“Dex, I’m sorry,” she whispered, scooting closer to Dex on the couch. His right leg was now resting against her left leg. She put her arm around his back and leaned her head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Dex whispered back. “It was a long time ago. It made me capable of being on my own at an early age.”

“Do you have other family?” She asked, pulling back to look at him.

“No,” he shook his head. “It’s just me.”

“Well,” she said instantly, “now you’ve got me.”

Dex wanted to tell her that she couldn’t say things like that to him unless she really meant it. But he didn’t want to get serious about it all—didn’t want to ruin the moment.

“Do you remember your first kiss?” She asked him in a lighter voice. Dex laughed.

“Yes,” he nodded. “I had no idea what I was doing. It was awkward. And wet. You?”

She laughed against him. “I had a similar experience. It was so strange at first. I honestly hated it. I felt too young to kiss like that.”

“Yeah,” Dex nodded, trailing off, thinking of another question to ask her. He opened his mouth to say something, wondering if it may be too far, or treading a thin line of what boundaries they already had. Her leg was still pressed against his, but her hands were to herself now. “Do you remember… your first time?” He asked her.

Silence at first. So much silence that Dex had to look at her to make sure she was okay. Her eyes were focused in front of her, avoiding his. He’s never seen her like this—quiet, unsure. Dex wanted to rescind the question immediately and apologize for overstepping a boundary. But then, she gave him a small, ironic smile.

“No,” she answered, shaking her head. Dex thought of every possibility in his head that could make her not remember something like that—having sex for the first time—and each possibility raised concern in him until she finished her answer. “I haven’t had my first time yet.”

It was Dex’s turn to go silent. He looked at her expression—she was trying her hardest to keep an indifferent look, but Dex sensed a tinge of embarrassment from her, and even sadness. He wasn’t sure what surprised him more: that she was a virgin or that she was capable of emitting an emotion he knew all too well. He wanted to kick himself for triggering that emotion out of her.

“I’m sorry,” Dex squinted his eyes, “I shouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s okay,” she said. “You’re not judging me, are you?”

Dex looked at her in disbelief. How could he judge a girl like her? Dex has killed people before—not in the line of duty. He’s used lethal force; he’s been abandoned. And she thinks that he would judge her over not having ever had sex? Dex felt hollow in his heart for a moment—that she thought for even a second he would ever judge her for something like that. She, who is so kind and sweet—pure—someone Dex is positive he isn’t worthy of having so close to him. She scares him in a lot of ways because of that. But somehow he’s earned her trust. No, there’s no world where Benjamin Poindexter judges her.

“Never,” he breathed out, moving so he was facing her. “I could never judge you for something like that. There’s no shame in it.”

“Sometimes I feel that way, that I haven’t experienced something so intimate before,” she said behind a sad smile. In a lot of ways, Dex hasn’t experienced something so intimate before either. Yes, he’s had sex—but the sex he’s had with partners never felt intimate. It just felt like sex. Soulless, empty, physical. He always felt emptier inside after.

“It’s okay,” Dex comforted her. “It’s not always intimate.”

“It’s not?” She asked him, furrowing her brows. “I don’t know. It seems intimate to me.”

“It is,” Dex nodded, “it can be. But it has to be with the right person. Otherwise, it’s just an act.”

“I don’t want it to be that way,” she admitted, breaking eye contact. “Just an act. I can’t—I’m too sensitive to just do it. It has to mean something. I think that’s why I’ve waited so long. Not because of religious reasons. I’m not waiting for marriage. I just want my first time to be intimate. I want my first time to mean something. I want it to be real. I’ve heard so many stories from my friends saying guys just leave them after they get what they want. I’m not strong enough for that.”

“I understand,” Dex said softly. “I get it. But please know I could never judge you for that. If you don’t judge me for not being pure.”

“Pure,” she laughed, “is that what you think I am now that you know that?”

“No,” Dex shook his head. “I knew you were pure from the moment I met you. I didn’t need to know anything else about you to know that.”

“Why do you say that?” She asked.

“Because,” Dex struggled to find the words. He looked at his hands, her knees, her curious expression. “You talked to me so easily that first night in the elevator. So open. I’m not—I’m not used to that. You were kind. I could tell you were a good person. I—I need that in my life, __,” he said, almost pleading like she was halfway out the door when she was still sitting on the couch next to him.

“I didn’t know you felt that way about me,” she whispered.

“I let you come over every night to talk about my job because you wanted to,” Dex began to say, “but I also let it keep happening because it has kept me sane. Talking to you. Being with you…” he broke eye contact again. “You tell me I make you feel safe,” Dex spoke again. “You make me feel that way, too.” But when Dex says that she makes him feel safe, he doesn’t mean safe from the other people in the building or even New York City. She makes him feel safe from himself.

“I’d never want to do something to make you go away,” Dex continued. “I want you around,” he whispered. “I want you to stay.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” she shook her head. She placed her hand on Dex’s knee. Dex slowly brought his hand to cover hers. This was the first direct contact they’d ever had—holding hands. Dex looked at the image—studied how his hand fit perfectly on top of hers. He twisted his fingers so they intertwined. Without thinking, he brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. She let him. He kissed her knuckles again, then the back of her and, then her wrist, and soon Dex was peppering kisses all the way up the length of her arm, pushing her sleeve up.

“Dex…”

He rolled her sleeve down and held her hand again, waiting for her directive. When she gave no protest, Dex moved her hair behind her and kissed her neck. She gently pushed his chest away from her, but only to look at him. His eyes were dark, full of intensity. She leaned in and closed the space between them, kissing Dex and Dex kissing her back. The moment their lips touched, they both knew it was long overdue. Dex placed his hands on her waist while she held him on his shoulders. His tongue made his way into her mouth and she welcomed it gladly. Dex squeezed her gently and pulled back, resting his forehead on hers, out of breath.

“When’s the last time you’ve had a kiss like that?” She asked. Both of them had soft laughs escape their lips.

“I think that was my first time,” Dex admitted against her lips, “my first time wanting to kiss someone like that.”

“I guess there’s a first time for everything,” she smiled.

Dex kissed her again, gently pressing her to lay down on his couch. She did so she was laying on her back, with Dex leaning over her. She pushed his chest away again, indicating she wanted to speak.

“Dex, I want you to be my first time,” she said.

“What?”

“I want you to take my virginity,” she told him. Dex pulled back completely now. He had to sit with what she was asking him. She leaned up again in concern. “I want it to be with you.”

“__,” he said her name, rubbing his eyes closed. As much as he wanted that, Dex wasn’t sure he was worthy. He wasn’t worthy to be in your presence alone—but to take that from you, the very thing that could change everything—he wasn’t sure he was worthy of that either. You were so good and so pure—to give him that responsibility is to give him the power to potentially ruin that. He couldn’t stand the thought of ruining something else that was so good in his life.

But if it wasn’t going to be him, it was going to be someone else. And the thought of someone else doing this to her—ruining her purity—cut him to the bone. As quickly as his attachment grew in his chest, jealousy did too, at the thought of someone else doing it to her.

Selfishly, he wants to be the one to taint her. Unselfishly, he doesn’t want to ruin what she is.

“You don’t want me,” she shook her head and bit her lip, avoiding eye contact.

“That’s not true,” Dex said. “I do want you.”

“Then why aren’t you saying yes? Why aren't you taking me right now?”

“Because like you said before,” Dex whispered, taking her hands again. “You want it to be special. You want it to mean something. Rushing into it on a spur of the moment thing won’t make it what it should be.”

Tears welled in her eyes, and Dex had never seen her so emotional. It made his heart hammer in his chest. He shifted so he sat closer to her. He kissed her forehead.

“I want you,” he reassured her. “But not right now. You should sleep on it. Really think if you want it to be me. I’d hate to ruin a perfect night by us jumping into it right away.”

She avoided looking at him, but deep down, she knew he was right.

“Okay,” she whispered. “I will.”

He kept looking at her until the look of worry faded from her face. All that was left was exhaustion in the form of half-closed eyes and soft breathing. Dex nudged her with his knee.

“What do you say we call it for tonight?” Dex asked. “It’s late.”

“Yeah,” she nodded, “I should go.”

Dex walked her to her door. As she unlocked it, she turned around to say goodnight again, and as if on cue, Dex twisted her into his arms and gently pushed her against the wall of the hallway, kissing her deeply. He locked her there, between his arms, a leg separating hers. She placed her hands on his chest to steady herself. When he pulled back, he looked away, as if the mere sight of her would make him come completely undone.

Silence followed her into her apartment. Dex retreated back to his, and while she was no longer gracing it with her presence—he felt her everywhere.

◎◎◎

Dex sat at his kitchen counter. His mind was too clouded by his thoughts to focus on anything—his thoughts that were consumed by her. He didn’t realize that by giving her a choice in thinking about what they talked about, he was at the mercy of that decision.

If she ended up not wanting it to be with him, how would that change their relationship? Would she stop coming over? Worse—would she never speak to him again? Dex could’ve easily given her what she wanted in that moment, but at the same time, he didn’t want to ruin what they already had. What had easily landed in his lap without him having to do anything.

On the other hand, if she did still want it to be with him… well, where do they go from there? Not to mention that he would be the one to take that purity away from her—and not in the sense of virginity. But in the sense that someone like him, someone who has killed and is capable of doing much worse, gets to be inside her for the first time. He didn’t feel worthy to be in her presence like that, to be the one to alter her experience with intimacy forever. If she still wanted it to be with him, he would make sure it was special and intimate like she wanted it to be.

But he’s afraid that if this happens, he’ll never be able to let her go. It sounds wrong, but he would feel a sort of possession over her. He was protective over her already; after this, he would be downright territorial. His past lovers have all been with people before him…she would be the first he’d ever be with who hadn’t been touched before.

Touched. Dex felt a cramp in his hands thinking about touching her for the first time. He’d want to map her entire body out; take in how beautiful she looks completely naked. He’d be the first to see her like that. He hoped he’d be the last.

There was a knock at his door.

Dex paused before getting up. It could all change in this next moment. He wasn’t sure which he was hoping more for. He took a deep breath and walked to the door.

There she was in all her glory—her hair had brushed out, messy curls and was pushed to one side, like she had just nervously fixed her hair. She was in a new set of pajamas—pearlescent silk white. She met his eyes for a fleeting moment before looking down—Dex could still she still felt embarrassed, or ashamed. For whatever reason. It should be him who felt like that.

“It’s okay," Dex spoke first. “Whatever your decision is."

“I want it with you, Dex,” she looked up at him with worried eyes. “But if you don’t want it with me, then—“

“Come in,” Dex opened the door for her to step inside. She immediately stood in the middle of his living room as Dex shut and locked his door.

She was holding herself—arms around her stomach, avoiding eye contact. Dex wasn’t used to seeing her so unsure of herself; he was used to seeing her positive, confident, smiling. Looking at him with hopeful eyes. What did he have to do to calm her nerves?

“I want this with you,” Dex said softly, approaching her slowly. “I just want to make sure you truly want this with me.”

“I do,” she affirmed. “More than anything.”

Dex placed his hand on her cheek, studying her features before everything changes. She was right about something—sex is an intimate act. Sex changes things. He knows how it has changed things for him, but he’s not sure how it will change things for her. He wanted to remember what she looked like before the act—before he changed everything. He caressed her cheek with his thumb. He didn’t want her to feel worried. It was written all over her face.

“What are you scared of?” He asked her.

“It hurting,” she said meeting his eyes.

“I’m not going to lie to you,” Dex began, “it’ll hurt at first. But then it won’t. What else are you scared of?”

“Making a mess,” she broke eye contact again. “I may bleed.”

“Don’t worry,” Dex shook his head, whispering. “It’s not a mess you’ll have to clean up. Anything else?”

She bit her lip and met his eyes again. “I don’t want you to stop talking to me after it’s done. I don’t want us to do it, and then that being all that you wanted, and then you stop seeing me or hanging out with me.”

Dex furrowed his brows in disbelief. Here he was, afraid of the same thing, unknowing that she too shared the same fears. Dex would never stop talking to her after it’s done. She knows she’ll be attached to him after—little did she know that Dex would be infinitely more attached to her, for separate reasons. He may be taking her purity, but she’s giving him something worse: hopes that he may find newfound purity in himself.

“___,” he said her name, meeting her eyes. He caressed her cheek some more. “I’m not goin’ anywhere. Once this happens—it won’t be possible for me to let you go.”

She took a long shaky breath. “Okay, Dex. I trust you. I—I think I’m ready.”

Dex continued to caress her cheek as he held her gaze, witnessing her eyes soften in comfort—safety. Trust. “Okay,” he said. “Is it okay if I kiss you?”

She blushed in the most adorable way. Avoided eye contact, bit her lip. She nodded. Dex placed two fingers under her chin to lift her to look at him. Dex slowly leaned down to meet her lips with his. And when they finally touched, she fell right into him.

Dex cupped her cheek in the palm of his hand, holding her steady in place as he kissed her. He teased her lips with her tongue, and she opened her mouth to let him in. He started off slowly…sweetly. When she took his hands and moved them to hold her waist, he took it as a sign to deepen the kiss. His tongue danced against hers as he practically inhaled her with kisses. His strong hands rested at either side of her waist.

They both pulled back out of breath. Dex leaned his forehead against hers, eyes closed.

“Let me lay you down,” Dex said in a low voice. She nodded against him and let him lead the way to his bedroom.

She sat at the foot of the bed in the center. She started to shake uncontrollably—from nerves, the AC in his room and from the reality of what was about to happen.

Dex knelt between her knees in front of her. He took her hand and held it in his. He kissed her knuckles and felt her shaking. He looked up at her.

“This is for you,” Dex reminded her. “It’s okay.”

“I’m just nervous,” she said. “I’ve never been completely naked in front of anyone.”

“I’ll ask you if I can do anything before I do it,” Dex said. “Is that okay?”

“Yes,” she nodded. She was taking deep breaths to calm her anxiety. Dex kissed her knuckles again. He placed both her hands on her legs.

“Can I touch your shoulders?” He asked.

She looked confused at first, but nodded anyway. Dex placed his hands on both her shoulders, softly caressing her with his thumbs. He moved his hands down both her arms slowly, feeling the softness of her silk pajamas. When he reached her hands, he held them both.

“Can I unbutton your shirt?”

“Yes,” she breathed softly.

Dex nodded and slowly started to unbutton her shirt one by one. He kept his focus on the buttons—nothing else—definitely not the goosebumps rising on her skin and definitely not at her hard nipples through the shirt. When he was done, only the center of her torso was exposed. She leaned back on her elbows and Dex leaned forward more between her legs, which were now spread a bit more.

Dex could see her heart pounding in her chest. He took right hand and kissed her knuckles. He met her eyes.

“Tell me if you want me to stop, okay?” Dex reassured her. She shook her head.

“I don’t want you to stop.”

Dex kissed her hand again. “Can I touch you?”

“Anywhere,” she said in a small voice.

Dex slowly began to trail his hand up the length of her torso, from her stomach to her collarbone. He slipped a few fingers under neath her shirt, dangerously close to her left breast. Dex looked at her once more for permission. All he needed was a small nod to let him know it was okay—and she did. Dex slowly traced his fingers over her breast, feeling her soft supple skin react to his touch—goosebumps, her nipple hard in the palm of his hand. Dex took a deep breath to control his own feelings of arousal—feeling her breast in his hand, realizing he was the first person to ever touch her like this. Dex squeezed her breast lightly and traced his pointer finger underneath her breast, feeling the curve of her soft skin. He pushed the shirt away, exposing her completely. He did the same thing on her other side with his other hand. He slid her shirt completely off and she closed her eyes, leaning fully back.

“You’re beautiful,” Dex whispered. “You’re soft and perfect.”

She opened her eyes. “Touch me more.”

Dex scooped her in his arms and lifted her further up his bed. He knelt between her on the bed and traced his hand on her stomach again. An intrusive thought crossed his mind—would she let him come inside her? Would she want to feel his seed that deeply inside her, knowing the risk? Dex felt his cock harden at the thought of coming inside her for her first time.

He took a deep breath and crossed the thought away. He placed both his hands on her breasts and gently squeezed them again. He leaned down and kissed the skin between her breasts. She closed her eyes in pleasure. Dex kept his hands on her waist and slowly kissed his way to her right breast, kissing it before taking her nipple in his mouth. He licked and sucked her hard nipple, gently wrapping his lips around it and starting a motion of licking and sucking. He swirled his tongue around her nipple and kissed her breast. He did the same thing on the other side.

“How did that feel?” He asked her.

“Good,” she answered in a breathy voice. “Really good.” She was still shaking. Dex was starting to love the idea of him making her shake like that.

“Good,” he said. Dex began to pepper kisses down the length of her torso, holding his hands on either side of her waist. She breathed deeply and pressed her head into his pillow, bracing herself for whatever was next. He played with the hem of her pajama pants and looked up at her with a slight sense of urgency.

“Can I take these off?” Dex asked.

“Yes,” she breathed, closing her eyes.

In one single slip, Dex took her pajama pants and underwear off, completely exposing her to him. Dex gazed at her sex which was slightly glistening from how wet she was, and then he noticed her slightly shaking again. He placed his hands on her thighs and kissed her on either side, trying to hold her steady.

“It’s okay,” Dex whispered. “Just tell me if you want to stop.”

“I don’t,” she said. “I’ll stop shaking soon.”

Dex secretly hoped she wouldn’t. He slowly slid his right hand over to her inner thigh and began to draw small circles. He slowly inched his way over to touch her pussy. He ever so gently placed the pad of his thumb on her clit, mimicking the small circles he just drew on her thigh before. She shivered at his touch and Dex watched her carefully. He mindlessly kept rubbing her clit as he watched her expression change from tense to relaxed.

“That feels really good,” she whispered.

“Let me know how this feels,” Dex said in a low voice. He slowly knelt between her legs, pushing them farther apart. He placed his entire mouth on her pussy and began to lap slowly at her slick folds. He started from the bottom and licked slowly up to her clit.

“Oh,” she moaned in a slightly pitched voice. Her legs shifted against Dex’s head, which was welcomed. Dex continued to lap at her wetness, completely putting his entire mouth on her sex. He pulled back momentarily to insert one finger in her tight pussy. She gasped at the tension, grabbing onto the fitted sheets. Dex reached his other hand up and took her hand, indicating that she could hold onto him. He pulled his finger and met his lips to her pussy again, this time moving his tongue around faster than before. His lips were locked on her wetness, and he began to feel himself get lost in the way she felt against his mouth, like this was his last meal on earth. She squirmed against his face, breathing deeply. She reached to pull on his hair to channel how he was making her feel. His hand gripped her thigh while the other held onto her ankle.

Dex focused his sucking on her clit and he paid mind to how she was breathing—he didn’t want her to come yet. Her eyes were closed, mouth half open, brows furrowed together. With his lips still on her pussy, Dex looked up at her and locked eyes for a moment with her before she closed them again and sighed into his pillow. He took one last lap at her wetness before pulling back and kissing both of her inner thighs.

“Dex…”

“You okay?” He licked his lips.

She only nodded, slightly disappointed by how cold she felt now that he wasn’t touching her. Dex could sense she wanted more. He could sense she was ready. He took off his shirt and pants, exposing himself to her. He couldn’t remember the last time he was bare in front of someone, but he didn’t care—all those times before didn’t matter. Only now did.

His cock was hard, pre-cum leaking at the tip. Dex was slightly surprised that she reached down to touch him, gently running her thumb over his tip. He clenched his jaw and took a deep breath. He placed his hands under the small of her back and lifted her up his bed, so she lay perfectly in the middle. He was hovering over her now—his cock dangerously close to her wetness, but not touching. They looked at each other for a moment, Dex looking deeply into her eyes—he couldn’t tell what she felt. Fear, anticipation, aroused? A mix of all three, he supposed. Because it’s exactly how he felt, too. Knowing that after this, their entire dynamic would change. For better or worse.

She spread her legs wider and placed her hands on his face. Dex leaned down and kissed her gently.

“You still want this?” He asked her.

“Yes.” She swallowed hard. “Please be gentle.”

“I will,” Dex nodded, his hot breath hitting her skin. He pushed a strand of hair away from her flushed face. He kissed her between her eyebrows.

Dex slowly lined up his cock at her entrance and rubbed his tip against her folds, getting himself wet with her pussy. He took a deep breath and clenched his jaw. Her eyes were closed, but he watched her as he ever so slowly tried to push himself inside her. He was too big for her to enter easily, and she was too tight for him to go any harder. She said gentle, and that’s exactly what he did. She took a sharp intake of breath and her heart was beating hard against her chest. Dex could sense her anxiety and kissed her forehead again as he tried to push himself inside her more. Slowly, inch by inch, he pushed himself inside her tight pussy, and in one quick thrust, Dex was completely inside her. They both reacted in their own way—Dex letting out the deepest sigh he’s ever taken, and her gasping for air from the pain.

“Dex, Dex,” she whispered in a slight panic.

“Shh,” Dex was trying to keep himself focused but it was hard to while he felt her tight pussy completely encase him while at the same time soften her worries. “It’ll get better. I’m going to go back and forth.”

She nodded and kept her eyes shut, a pained expression on her face. Dex felt incredible inside her, but this wasn’t about him. It was all for her.

He slowly pulled out, and she could feel the difference immediately. He felt so big inside her that when he almost pulled out, she felt so empty—she needed to feel him like that all the time. Close, inside, tangled up with her softness.

When he pushed back in, he couldn’t help the moan that slipped out of his lips. She was shaking, and her shaking at his cock inside her, ignited something primal in him. He was the first person to ever feel her like this and make her feel this way, and that thought alone spurred Dex on to keep thrusting inside her. She was completely soaking and he could feel her start to mold to his cock.

“Dex,” she whispered his name, “it’s starting to feel different.”

“How?” He uttered out while he still slowly went back and forth inside her.

“Good,” she opened her eyes finally and met his dark ones. “Really good. I—“

“You want more?” Dex asked, and it was his turn to close his eyes.

“I want more,” she nodded.

Dex wasted no time in speeding up his thrusts inside her. He went even deeper, feeling the tip of his cock touch the back of her cervix. He was imprinting his size on her. She knew she would feel him for days after. She felt so velvety, soft, wet and tight around his cock, Dex’s mouth was half open and his eyes were closed as he continued to thrust inside her.

“More, Dex,” she sighed.

His arms were under her, and hers were around his shoulders. Dex kept one arm under her and held onto his bed frame to get a better angle at fucking her, because now that’s what they were doing. Dex pounded inside her tight pussy, wetness and possibly blood coating both of them and his sheets. He watched her as she closed her eyes, mouth half open, as he continued to fuck her into being all his. He didn’t know what he liked more—being inside her or watching how much she enjoyed him being inside her. She fluttered her eyes open for a moment, meeting his, and Dex instantly closed his eyes. He retreated his arm back from the bed frame and scooped her in his arms, pressing his forehead against hers.

She closed her eyes again and had an expression of arousal, her eyebrows knitted together and her mouth slightly open. She opened her eyes and suddenly felt very aware of what was happening between their two sexes—it was a mix of wetness from her and something else more runny—blood. Her cheeks flushed red in embarrassment, Dex could tell, and she tried to look between them as he kept thrusting his cock inside her, unsure if she should allow herself to feel good or worry about the mess she’s making.

Dex followed her line of view and blocked it with his dark eyes.

“Look at me,” he whispered. “Look at me. How do you feel?”

She met his eyes and sighed heavily, “But Dex—“

“Don’t,” he pressed his forehead firmly against hers, continuing to pound into her, feeling the tip of his cock touch the back of her cervix. “Focus on me.”

Focus on him she did—the way he was hitting her g-spot repetitively made her spread her legs wider and push him in even more. He filled her up so completely, so well, she was sure to feel him for days.

“Oh, God, Dex,” she moaned, louder than before, “something’s happening—“

“Let it,” Dex whispered against her lips, closing his eyes and focusing on hitting her sweet spot. “Come for me, __. Come for me…come for me…”

“Dex!” Her pussy convulsed around his cock as she finally reached climax for the first time. She wrapped her arms around him and held him tightly against her, holding on like she was holding on for life. Her heart was beating rapidly in her chest and she lost her breath and regained it as she held onto his warm body. He was still inside her, thrusting more gently now. He kissed her neck, kissed the skin behind her ear, kissed her forehead and kissed her lip as he continued to move inside and out of her.

“Oh,” Dex whispered against her lips. “I’m right behind you—“

“Inside me,” she said in a whisper, “please.”

Dex closed his eyes as he felt himself release his seed inside her tight pussy, feeling it coat all over her inside, he was shaking against her. It was her turn to kiss him, to bring him back down from his own high.

He laid his entire body weight on her, which was welcomed. His cock was still inside her, resting, until he slowly pulled out of her. She held him tighter. He breathed her in deeply, kissing her shoulder. She ran her fingers through his dirty blonde hair.

He pulled back, gazed in her eyes for a moment.

“Let me get a towel,” Dex said softly.

He pulled the sheets over her and when he came back, he cleaned between her legs as best as he could while she fell asleep. Dex threw the towel in the hamper, a clean, perfect throw, and crawled back under the sheets with her. He pulled her in tightly, and she molded against him like she was meant to be there. It may have been her first time, but he was certain this was his first time feeling the attachment in the aftermath. He hoped this wouldn’t be their last.

#daredevil #bullseye #ben poindexter #benjamin poindexter #bullseye x reader #ben poindexter x reader #benjamin poindexter x reader #dex #dex x reader #bullseye smut #ben poindexter smut #benjamin poindexter smut #marvel #daredevil born again #daredevil: born again #the first time

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posh--bee · 8 days ago

Text

falling for you (into the deep end) || Aaron Hotchner

pairing → Aaron Hotchner x Reader

summary → One second, you're standing next to your father's pool, ready for a cold drink on a hot summer day, and the next you're suddenly falling into said pool with a man you have never met before in your life. A man who shortly after introduces himself as Aaron Hotchner to you, your father's unit chief and friend. Yep, this is definitely your worst nightmare come to life.

warnings → meet-cute, fem!reader, rossi!reader, reader has rossi's last name, reader wears a bikini, reader is down bad immediately, Aaron is the sweetest guy ever, but also down bad, (unspecified) age gap, a cuss word here and there, short description of a hypothetical crime, no y/n used

author’s note → I wanted to write something for Hotch, preferably with a reader who is Rossi's daughter. Throw in a quirky and slightly awkward meet-cute and voilà—here we are! I'm pretty sure Rossi's mansion doesn't have a pool, but who cares, now it does! This fic kinda developed a life of its own near the end so let me know what you think about it <3

word count → 4.8k

masterlist(s) || ⋆part 1⋆ - part 2 coming soon-ish :3 || series masterlist

The soft ripple of the pool's aquamarine water rocks you gently, caressing your sun-warmed skin, the smell of chlorine, sunscreen, and what can only be described as summer tickling your nose.

The leaves of the trees surrounding your father's property rustle in a lazy breeze and you open your eyes, the clear sky that greets you as brilliantly blue as the water you're floating in, your arms and legs spread like you're mimicking a very happy and very relaxed starfish.

It's one of the hottest days of this year's summer and you decided to enjoy it thoroughly in the best way you know how: By lazing around your dad's house—sorry, mansion—eating his food and commandeering his pool until you're all wrinkly, while he is at work, catching the worst monsters humanity has created.

You will always be worried about him when he's gone but you've only ever known a world where that is what your father does; hunting down killers, teaching others to do the same, or writing books about understanding and capturing these dangerous people. And making a ton of money in the process.

Naturally, he never wanted you to follow in his footsteps, knowing how dangerous, how grueling, how draining his work can be, hoping that his only daughter would choose a different path for her professional life.

And naturally, you defied his wishes.

Kind of.

Only last week, after years and years of studying and researching and writing papers and pulling all-nighters and drinking enough caffeine to power an aircraft, you graduated with a PhD in Forensic Science and can now proudly announce yourself as Doctor Rossi instead of Miss Rossi.

That's why you're currently back at your father's place, simply enjoying doing absolutely nothing before you're officially joining the workforce, hopefully helping to catch many more of the monsters your father and his team hunt and developing the methods and practices of your field further.

But for the moment, you're content to simply float in the pleasantly cool water, watching a single lonely cloud drift across the endless blue sky before you decide in a stroke of pure genius that a cold and fruity drink is exactly what you need to make this perfectly carefree day even better. You let yourself grow heavy in the water, your body sinking to the tiled bottom of the pool where you remain motionless for a few seconds, admiring the mesmerizing shifting patterns the sunlight paints underwater before you kick off the tiles, your fingers wrapping around the metal bars of the pool's ladder as soon as you reach them.

You climb out of the pool, water cascading down your body and creating a small puddle on the sun-warmed wooden planks of the patio at your feet. You grab your towel from one of the fancy deck chairs and quickly dry yourself enough to go to the kitchen and make yourself a drink before leisurely sipping on it while you lie in the sun, a hopefully good book keeping you company until you decide it's time for another relaxing activity.

With your game plan fully formed, you set it in action, going over to the sliding glass door that leads back into the house when you catch sight of your reflection in it, briefly pausing to fix the top of your—if you might say so yourself—super cute and flattering bikini.

But before you can then reach for the handle, a silhouette of a person appears behind the glass out of nowhere and the door slides open all the way, revealing a man you have never seen before in your life standing in front of you.

In your father's house. That you thought you had to yourself.

Oh hell no.

Immediately, your heart jumps into your throat, your pulse spiking in pure panic and you stare at the stranger fearfully, your brain frantically scrambling to find the best course of action that doesn't lead to your pictures ending up on one of the boards at your father's workplace—one photo showing a candid shot of you smiling, probably from your recent graduation, while the others would document how the killer left your broken and bruised body behind on the patio, your blood painting the wooden planks red, seeping into the cracks between them, maybe even dripping into the pool's clear water and staining it with clouds of diluted blood.

The stranger's dark brows furrow in concern, and when he gently, carefully says your name, it does nothing to calm you—not in the slightest. Your body is stiffly frozen on the spot while your fight-or-flight response is busy flipping a coin and waiting to see which side it will land on.

But then the stranger takes a step towards you and you spring into action, yelping in alarm and instinctively taking one, two, three steps backwards—away from him—which you quickly realize was a big mistake when the terrible feeling of having missed a step makes your stomach drop.

And then time slows down.

With a startled cry you fall backwards, flailing your arms helplessly but without a chance to regain balance when your back foot is already hanging over the edge of the pool. The stranger's eyes widen in surprise and he urgently reaches for you, his warm and strong fingers actually closing around your wrist firmly, trying to pull you back towards him—but it's too late.

Your momentum makes the stranger lose his footing as well and not a fraction of a second later the two of you break the pool's glittering surface in a joint, enormous splash, instantly submerged by the water.

Little drops of it are still raining down on you when you and the stranger come back up at the same time to gasp for air, your pulse ringing in your ears, looking and feeling more than a little disoriented. Your wide eyes find the deep brown ones of the unfamiliar man next to you and he silently stares back at you with an equally befuddled expression.

He's extremely handsome, your brain notes unprompted, even with his previously styled hair now completely wet, the dark strands sticking to his forehead and sending droplets running down his sharp features, some stubbornly clinging to his eyelashes and even the tip of his nose. Naturally, his clothes are completely soaked too, his dress shirt now clinging tightly to his body and it embarrassingly takes you a moment to avert your eyes from this sight, from his chest, and shoulders, and arms, especially when you notice the way he has the sleeves rolled up above his elbows.

With warm cheeks that have nothing to do with you lazing around in the sun all day, your gaze snaps back to his face which looks like he's still trying to comprehend what just happened.

And that's when the horrible realization dawns on you.

That maybe this man who didn't show any signs of aggression towards you and even tried to save you from falling, who knows your name and is dressed in suit pants, a dress shirt and nice shoes might not be a serial killer coming to end your life after all.

And you just made him fall in the pool with you—completely clothed.

Oh no. Not good. Very not good.

"Oh god, I'm so sorry! Are you—are you okay?"

The words tumble out of your mouth franticly, your voice too loud, too shrill, a wholly different kind of panic settling in that makes your hands tremble and your stomach feel slightly sick.

The stranger lets out a high-pitched, breathless laugh, an amused kind of disbelief on his face when he answers, "I am, yes. Are you alright?"

His deep voice is good-humored and kind, the kind that makes your knees go a little weak despite yourself and all you manage in response is a quick little nod, threading your fingers together in front of your body, nervously playing with them under the water.

You watch him brush the hair from his forehead with one large hand, slicking the wet, jet-black strands back, water running down his arm, droplets getting caught in the dark hairs on his forearm and he quickly looks at the probably very expensive and now very drenched watch on his wrist before his kind gaze finds yours again, saying, "I'm sorry I startled you like this. I thought Dave texted you I was coming over. He has some old case files on his desk he asked me to review while he's still at the office."

As soon as these words leave his mouth, your cheeks and ears flame up in shame while your eyes widen in horror. Because that means this man who is currently in the pool with you is an FBI agent, a highly skilled profiler working on the same team as your dad, and it's all your fault that he took a completely involuntary dive with you.

And then, as if you're not already wishing for the bottom of the pool to open up and just swallow you whole to end your misery, he adds the one thing that makes this surreal situation even worse.

"I'm Aaron—Hotchner. It's good to finally meet you. Your father talks a lot about you."

Cool.

Cool cool cool cool.

Because of course, of all the agents your father works with you just made Aaron Hotchner, the BAU's unit chief and your dad's very serious, very important and very no-nonsense FBI boss fall in the pool with, completely clothed, and probably ruining his expensive shoes and watch and wallet and phone in the process.

Sure.

No problem.

Definitely not one of the most humiliating things to ever happen in your life.

You are going to drown yourself in this pool.

With your mind and body locked in a continuous state of distress, you exhale a trembling breath that does nothing to calm you, the words just spilling out of your mouth, your voice cracking pathetically as you try to explain yourself and apologize to him, completely distraught.

"Oh god, I'm so so sorry, I—I didn't know—I left my phone inside and haven't checked it in hours—If I'd known you were coming over, I'd—I'd never—oh my god—"

To make matters even worse you have to realize with renewed horror that tears are welling up in your eyes and you stubbornly press the heels of your hands to your eyes as you gasp for a breath, struggling to keep your emotions under control and regain even the semblance of composure. You refuse to make an even bigger fool out of yourself in front of him than you already have.

But that's nearly impossible when Aaron's voice is so infuriatingly understanding and kind, his tone soft and comforting.

"It's alright, you really don't have to apologize to me. You didn't know and I scared you half to death. It's not your fault, so don't worry about it, okay?"

But how can you not worry about how much you messed up when this is probably the worst first impression you have ever left on someone—and that includes the time you destroyed someone's side mirror with your own car only to learn a few days later that that someone was your then-boyfriend's very unamused mother when you visited his parents for the first time for a very uncomfortable and icy dinner. (Your mind still likes to torture you with this little incident when you're busy trying to fall asleep, basically dooming the relationship from the very beginning, but in the end it was for the best—because that woman would've shown up wearing a white dress to her son's own wedding. So you're pretty sure you dodged a huge bullet there.)

You risk a glance at Aaron through the gaps between your fingers, the reassuring smile on his face making you feel a little silly, a little overdramatic but it also makes you calm down enough to let your hands drop from your face. Not that you had any chance not to, not when he's looking at you like you couldn't do anything wrong in his eyes, ever.

"I mean it, it was just an accident. Don't blame yourself for that."

He says it with so much conviction that you're almost ready to believe him, but the unhappy frown still clings stubbornly to your face, still mentally berating yourself over this whole situation you actually had very little control over.

That's why you jump almost a foot into the air (the water you're still standing in) when a warm and big, big hand gently squeezes your naked shoulder. Aaron is somehow so much closer than before, looking down at you and steadily holding your gaze while all you can do is dumbly stare back into his eyes, captivated by the sparkle of amused patience in them, by the way his dark eyelashes frame them so perfectly, following his sharp features to the slope of his nose, further down to his lips, wondering just how they would feel pressed against yours—

Nope—!

That very attractive and very wet man in the pool with you is still your father's colleague and friend, you remind yourself with burning ears, letting out an involuntarily awkward little giggle that ends in a dramatic sigh, your whole body deflating under the comforting weight and warmth of his hand on your skin.

You manage to smile up at him despite your chest still feeling a little too tight with anxiety while butterflies undeniably start to stir in your stomach.

"Thank you for saying that," you murmur defeatedly as you try and fail to tear your gaze from his eyes. "But I'm still sorry about your clothes and watch, and everything else too."

But he simply shakes his head, easily dismissing your attempt to apologize once more, shutting down your offer to pay for the damages that would surely follow before it could even pass your lips.

"It's fine, really. All of these things can be replaced. I'm just glad you didn't hurt yourself."

How can he just say things like these with that stupidly attractive and smooth voice of his while his hand deliberately rubs up and down your arm and not expect you to fall for him right then and there? Because you're pretty sure that's what's happening right now, without you having the slightest of chances to stop it.

But that's a problem you will have to deal with later, you decide, because right now the two of you are still just standing in the water together, and while your attire is completely pool-approved his very much isn't and you probably should get him at least a towel and some dry clothes to change into.

So you softly tell him as much, nodding your head towards the house, "I could get you some of dad's clothes so you can change, I hope that's okay."

"That would be perfect, thank you," Aaron answers, a grateful smile on his lips and you can't help but notice and appreciate the enticing crow's feet framing his eyes while he does.

You give him a timid smile in return, mumbling, "It's the least I can do."

He only gives your elbow a final tender squeeze in reply before pulling his hand back, his fingers lingering on your heated skin for just a moment longer and you can't find it in you to complain about it, not when a pleasant shiver runs down your spine at that.

Crap. You're in so much trouble already.

Reluctantly, you look away from him and turn around, heading to the pool's ladder, your whole arm tingling with the ghost of his touch but you try to ignore it as best as you can—which isn't all that much.

You climb up the steps first before holding out your hand for Aaron even if it's not strictly necessary. You're delighted when he takes it anyway without hesitation, your whole hand swallowed in his firm grasp, a discovery that makes your stomach do a funny little flip.

"I hope this at least takes the first place of the most memorable ways you ever met someone for the first time," you joke as Aaron emerges from the pool, finding some humor in this absurd situation as you watch his soaked clothes lose probably half of the pool's content on the planks of the patio, the wet fabric sticking to his body unpleasantly. But you don't miss the quick upwards quirk of his lips despite him looking like a pretty miserable, drowned rat now. You try to cover up your amused snort with a cough, but you know he can't have not caught it.

He however takes it in stride and graciously ignores it, instead starting to take off his watch while saying, "It absolutely does. And I can't say I wasn't wishing to cool off all day today, but that wasn't really what I had in mind. Not that I'm mad at all about this spontaneous opportunity to take a swim with you."

He smiles at you, fully, boldly, and you're probably mistaken when you think you saw just a sliver of shyness shining in his eyes because you're too distracted by the rest of his face that looks somehow even more handsome than before.

"Well, in that case, you're very welcome," you play along easily despite your heart slamming almost painfully against your ribcage. "And what can I say, I just love to leave a lasting first impression."

You're blessed with that charming high-pitched laugh of his again while he lays his watch on the patio table before his hands move to the buttons at the top of his shirt—which is not something you should find as enticing as you do.

"You definitely did. I just hope you don't make everyone you meet for the first time fall for you like that."

The words take a moment to fully register in your mind as you're busy admiring his deft fingers working on the first button of the shirt, but when they do something must suddenly take possession of you because your mouth curls into a teasing smile without you really meaning to and you casually hum, "Hm, no. Just you."

Aaron's fingers freeze mid-movement, his gaze so much more intense than just moments before but to your own surprise you don't shy away from it, keeping your eyes locked with his as he carefully utters his next words, his voice just a little rougher.

"That must make me pretty special, then."

You consider his words with a slow tilt of your head, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip to keep the eager smile threatening to overtake your face contained, your heart hammering away in your chest and your head feeling slightly dizzy. The daring and impulsive part currently in control of you makes you step directly into his personal space without hesitation where you can openly admire the small amount of chest hair peeking over the collar of his t-shirt which immediately cancels out the disappointing discovery that even in this heat he's wearing multiple layers.

"It probably does, Mr. Hotchner," you practically purr in reply, your voice almost unrecognizable to your own ears as you bring your hands up to his chest.

Your eyes never stray from his when you nudge his hands away from his shirt and replace them with your own, your fingers shaking visibly as you slowly, deliberately slide another button through its respective hole for him. And he lets you, his lips slightly parted, his gaze so much heavier, so much more heated than before that you have to suppress a full-body shiver.

You know it's not appropriate to do what you're doing right now, not with a man who is easily ten years your senior, who you never met in person before today and—most importantly—who is not only your father's superior but also his friend. And before today you would have never given in to your impulses like that, simply shoving them to the farthest corner of your mind where they would come back to haunt you during sleepless nights, making you wonder what could've been if you had just taken a chance for once in your life.

You don't know why it's different now with Aaron Hotchner of all people, what it is about him that makes you act like this so suddenly, so uncharacteristically bold, but you can't stop yourself—and to your thrilled delight, it doesn't seem like he wants you to either.

Not when you can clearly see the nice blush dusting the apple of his cheeks pink. Or when you notice the anticipation in his eyes, his tongue absentmindedly peeking past his dry lips to wet them. Or when you catch his pupils dilating as his attention snaps down to a droplet of water shining on your collarbone, his eyes following its path utterly transfixed as it slowly runs down between your breasts, the soft swell of your chest on full display for him thanks to your bikini top hugging you so perfectly.

To your astonishment, his gaze doesn't make you uncomfortable or exposed and you don't shy away from his attention—quite the opposite. You let yourself revel in it, a pleasant tingling sensation spreading from the very tips of your fingers to the rest of your body, making you feel confident and desired in a way few, if any, people have in the past.

He makes you feel cherished, the (poorly hidden) want in his eyes only increases this feeling.

But most importantly—he makes you feel safe.

That's what's so different about him.

So it's not surprising that you're lightheaded in the best way possible when your fingers slowly trail further down his shirt, smugly smirking up at him when he realizes he was caught red-handed ogling his friend's daughter's scarcely clad chest.

You see his Adam's apple work uneasily in his throat as he tilts his head slightly, not being able to meet your eyes anymore, his whole posture suddenly uncomfortable and stiff and the look on his face downright terrified. You find everything about this incredibly endearing and equally entertaining, the way his cheeks are now deeply red and probably burning hot to the touch, the tips of his ears very much in the same condition and his hand flexing by the side of his body as if debating whether physically pushing you away and creating some distance between the two of you would somehow remedy the situation.

But he doesn't, instead his gaze guiltily flickers to meet yours for a split second and then his lips part for the first words of a sincere yet deeply embarrassed, stammered apology. Yes, Aaron Hotchner, the ever-serious, ever-composed, big bad FBI agent who stares down serial killers for a living, who doesn't even flinch when the barrel of a gun is pressed against his head, actually stammers, evidently not used to losing control like this, not used to allow himself to give into temptation, anything that would expose that behind his almost perfect mask is simply a man, a human, with tragically repressed wants and needs and desires.

But you smile up at him, kindly, giddily, because you're really not used to someone like him giving you this kind of attention and you refuse to let yourself feel bad about it now and start to overthink it, so you simply say, "It's okay. I don't mind."

And then, because it's the truth, you add, "Not when it's you."

Your words cause a quick succession of emotions to flash across Aaron's face—regret, surprise, doubt, relief—only to finally settle on something so soft, so gentle, so close to adoration that your first, entirely instinctual reaction is to shrink and hide away from gaze.

But he doesn't let you, holds your gaze steadily and brings his hand up to yours still lightly resting against his chest. His fingers curl around your much smaller palm and he has the audacity to smirk at your very obvious, very telling reaction to this as if your roles weren't reversed just moments before. But then he gently presses your hand against his chest, his hand still covering yours and you immediately forgive him.

Because like this, you can feel the heat of his skin slowly bleed through the wet fabric of his shirt and into your own skin. You feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, the low hum forming there when your other hand moves with a mind of its own to rest on his shoulder, anchoring you to him further.

But most importantly, like this, you can clearly feel his heartbeat mirror the almost frantic, thundering pace of your own.

It's as confusing as it is exhilarating, knowing that for some bizarre reason, you and this stranger (because as many times your father has talked about Aaron, you have never met him before today) feel the same magnetic pull towards each other, and without knowing who moved in first you're suddenly breathing the same air, your faces close enough for you to count each individual dark eyelash and admire every single detail and imperfection of his handsome face.

Questions linger unspoken in the small space between you—Is this okay? Should we really be doing this?—but the small impatient noise escaping you is enough to dissipate them immediately.

He moves in even closer and you let your eyelids flutter shut, your heart stuttering in your chest when you feel his breath fan across your face, feel his lips hesitantly brush against your own, the faint touch enough to send a spark of overwhelming pleasure down your spine, the eruption of butterfly wings in your belly like nothing you ever felt before in your life, before finally—

Finally—

—the devastating sound of the front door falling shut echos through the whole house, your father's cheerful voice calling out both your and Aaron's name.

Your eyes snap open in horror, your heartrate spiking alarmingly, and like you were burned you push away from Aaron, desperate to create even the illusion of distance between the two of you. You're lucky you don't fall in the fucking pool again but only because of Aaron's quick reflexes, his arm wrapping around your naked waist and urgently pulling you flush against him, thankfully not losing his footing this time.

Terrified, you stare up at him, both of you frozen in this blatantly incriminating position—entirely too close, too intimate for two strangers, a daughter and her father's friend—his palm burning into your naked skin while your dad's footsteps are coming closer, and closer, and closer—

In a last, desperate attempt to save yourself and Aaron from being discovered like this your tardy fight-or-flight response kicks into gear again, urging you to—albeit reluctantly—exit his hold and rush towards the house, fleeing the scene of the crime and leaving poor Aaron to explain what happened to your father.

You don't stop when you run past your dad, only squeaking something unintelligently about getting some dry clothes when his confused voice calls after you, your wet feet almost causing you to slip and fall on the cold and hard marble floor but somehow you make it to the safety of the upper story, making a beeline to the master bedroom's dressing room.

With your heart beating painfully inside your chest, you curl up into a miserable ball of anxiety and regret in the middle of the room, not caring that you're dripping pool water onto the expensive carpeted floor, your shaking hands coming up to cover your face.

What the hell were you thinking? How will you be able to face your father—or worse, Aaron—ever again?!

You press the heels of your hands hard enough against your eyes that stars and shapes overtake the darkness of your vision, contemplating if staying inside this dressing room for the rest of your life is really that bad of an option.

But you're startled back into action when Aaron's calm but carefully controlled voice followed by your father's boisterous laughter travels up the stairs to you and you pick yourself off the floor before hectically digging through your father's clothes until you find something passable for Aaron to change into.

As you descend the stairs, knees weak and threatening to give out underneath you, your anxiety pressing heavily against your chest, you wonder helplessly how you will survive the rest of this day, how you will ever survive seeing Aaron again after today.

Because this afternoon, while he fell in the pool with you, you fell for Aaron Hotchner.

(And he fell in love with you, too.)

⋆ part 1 ⋆ - part 2 coming soon-ish :3 || series masterlist

divider by @/cafekitsune

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #criminal minds #criminal minds x you #falling for you series

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