Work Text:
Tonight is the night.
Dexter’s hunger was insatiable. He could practically feel himself salivating as he watched his victim of the night through the window, fast asleep. Daniel Williams was a 63-year-old man who had committed arson for the insurance money, killing his wife as he drove off to start his new life with his carefully planned jackpot. He watched from the trees he had carefully nestled himself in. Head pounding as he could smell the other’s blood rushing through their veins. He was so close, all he had to do was act carefully. And if there's anything Dexter knew, it was how to survive. Harry had taught him that after all, and he wouldn't let his adoptive fathers lifetime of work go to waste. As cliche and hackneyed as it was, Dexter was a vampyre. A cold-blooded, monstrous, blood sucking, vampyre. After turning he had applied Harry’s previous lessons to it. Already having plenty of knowledge and experience after turning in his mid-thirties. Apply the same lesson of how if he had to give in to these base needs, he might as well take out the trash.
So here he was, eyes darting the scene from his overseeing view as his eyes grazed into Williams’ window. He glanced up to survey the area, Daniel was all alone with no one but him in his luxury home. None of the neighbors had their lights on, even then each of these homes retained their distance from each other. So it was time for Dexter to make his move, he slid down the tree in inhumane speeds and made his way through the back door of the house. Slowing himself down as he carefully picked the lock on the back as anticipation and hunger went its course though his body. Every joint ached, every nerve sparked, every muscle tensed, and everything became so clear as he took his first step into the house. From there everything was easy, the master predator he was, he had snuck up into the man’s room and did what he did best.
Now the two stood in Dexter's eloquently made kill room, years of practice had paid off. The whole room wrapped in plastic wrap making it look like a toy that needed unpackaging as Dexter stood in gloves and apron while awaiting his victim to wake up. This was taking too long, he reflected. Lightly smacking the man square on the forehead. He was still groggy from sleep, the M-99 still having clear effects on him. Still Dexter had to make quick work, be efficient and controlled. The code was something that had kept him sane, especially when he was a newborn. Even in his most unquenchable thirst he had to stick to the guidelines set before him by Harry, just with an added bonus. It was twisted really, how his relationship with blood had evolved through his life. Now around 3 years in he wouldn't say he was the most skilled vampyre, but he knew the key points to hit.
He had sunk his fangs into the older man's neck and felt himself come alive again as he drained the man under him. Not feeling like much for talking as of current. Feeling the rich taste of iron fill up his mouth as he lapped up the hot blood gushing out of the man's neck. Daniel woke up completely now, letting out a startled yell. Without moving his head, Dexter grabbed the man's face and used his strong grip to muffle the man. How he hated screamers. But he felt everything come to an ease. A hunger so deep and primal finally satiated, until his passenger would rouse from its sleep once more. But now, everything was calm. Everything was routine. He would dispose of the body as he usually would, cutting them up into pieces, throwing them in biodegradable trash bags, and watching them sink to the ocean floor before currents carried them to places far away. Far from what he needed to be concerned about anymore.
This has calmed him immensely, the tension of the day sliding off his shoulders and rolling down his back. It was difficult enough avoiding the sun in Florida, but it's not like Doakes’ suspicion had helped him ease up any. All because of one miniature slip weeks ago, because of one misplaced stare and jaw movement. All because Doakes’ had caught him hungrily gazing at one of his blood samples in the lab. Dexter had gotten sloppily, so carefully constructed but it had been weeks, the man was starving. But it was a reminder, to keep himself controlled and poised at every time. Because now that that seed was planted in Doakes’ mind, that something was off, it couldn't be taken back. Now fully refreshed and energized, he stared out into the water while standing in front of the steering wheel of his boat. He gazed upon the horizon and looked up at the stars. How they shone so brightly on the empty water and sparkle in the night sky as Dexter drank in the sight. He shut his eyes as he felt the seabreeze rustle against his clothes and hair as he gripped the wheel tighter. Here he would let himself not pretend. In the stillness and isolation of the water he could be himself. Basking in the afterglow of a successful feed he could feel free, he could feel whole. But one thought echoed itself into the back of his mind.
How Doakes’ could see through him like no other.
***
The redhead was leaving work now, tinted windows to keep himself from shimmering in the setting sun as he started his car. Hearing the engine rumble as he pulled out of the Miami Metro parking lot into the main street to start his drive back to the apartment. Being the diligent driver he was, he couldn't help but notice a familiar Ford Taurus trailing behind him. Using his rearview mirror he saw Doakes in the driver seat. He let out a frustrated sigh and made four left turns at the upcoming interaction, just to prove that the Sergeant was indeed following him. ‘This could be a problem.’ Dexter thought before putting his eyes back onto the road and continuing his drive home.
The Sergeant stalked him all the way home, now the two were both situated in the parking lot of the complex. Neither of them leaving their vehicles, Dexter was waiting for the sun to fully set before making his way up the steps. As per usual, he always waited till the sun set to step out of his car, and went to the station before sunrise to avoid the sun. On the scene of a crime he had to be more resourceful however, using long sleeves, pants, gloves, and a mask to cover himself up. People always questioned how he could handle the hot Floridian sun beating down his back in such clothes. He always answered that he had a circulation issue, which got slight nods, he could argue this was partially true. So while he waited for the sun to set he mused over what could be done, if Doakes’ would confront him. Or would the man stay in his car and watch him pace up the steps into his home? Would he stay put until the late hours of the night? Would he make a day out of it? A week? ‘How long would this go on?’, he wondered. Finally, after what felt like ages, the brilliant Miami sun had set and he made his way out of his car into his home. Feeling Doakes’ eyes bore into him the whole way up. He couldn't help but grit his teeth in annoyance as he unlocked his front door and slipped inside.
This habit of Doakes’ had continued for two and a half weeks and Dexter was getting restless. It was the same thing. Doakes would follow him after work, and sit in front of his apartment till almost 3 in the morning, and then he went home. Then the following morning, Dexter would leave for work around 6:30 to avoid the sun. This routine occasionally interrupted with a late shift or occasional bowling session as Dexter grew all the more rigid in his wait. A familiar darkness seeped in as his blood grew hot and uncomfortable. His throat was searing with pain every time he swallowed and the bags under his eyes only seemed to grow. His dry-eye wasn't exactly helping his mood, caused by the contacts he used to hide another sign of his hunger. He wasn’t in a mood for Debra’s prying. He wasn't in a mood for Masuka’s perversions. He definitely wasn't in the mood for Doakes’ unrelenting fixed stare as the hefty man walked over and slammed his hands on the table, learning forward ever so slightly.
“I need that blood spatter report Morgan.” Doakes barked out. Dexter’s jaw tensed as he had to carefully slip on the rigid mask of a boring, suburban, Floridian, white guy who worked in blood spatter. Even though he wanted to slam Doakes’ head on the table and drain him right then and there. Lapping up the blood that pooled out onto the table like he was licking a plate clean, eagerly. He smiled ever so lightly at the thought as he zoned off. Nothing too extreme, just the slightest upturning of the corner of his lips. “What the fuck are you smiling at creeper.” Doakes’ looked simultaneously disgusted and confused, bringing Dexter back into reality as he coughed into his hand and looked up at the man towering over him, clearly trying to initiate some intimidation tactic that proved to be absolutely inefficient in this case.
“Sorry Sargeant. Long night you know?” He smiled lightly at this to absolutely no change in facial expression or body language from the other man.
“Long night doing what? I know damn well you didn't leave your house after work last night you freak.” Doakes hissed at him, without skipping a beat. Dexter wondered if he could count the times he's seen Doakes’ blink on one hand. He probably could.
“Uhm…well anyways I guess.” Dexter leaned back into his desk. The proximity made Doakes’ smell all the more enticing as Dexter tensed every muscle from the waist down to make himself cemented to the seat. “I have it in here right now, hold on.” Dexter opened the cabinet and peered through the files.
“Dont tell me what to do.” Dexter stopped in his motions. Staring blankly at the file cabinet before blinking harshly. God he wanted to kill this man right now. He wanted to kill and eat him right here right now. Lap up his blood like a thirsty dog with ice cold water in a heat wave. But he knew better. So he exhaled and retrieved the file from its hiding place and pulled out that report. Handing it to Doakes.
“Here you go Sarg.” Dexter smiled, emotionless and unfeeling as he loosely gripped the file before Doakes’ quickly ripped it from him. Making Dexter dawn a small psuedo-frown. “No need to be so rude you know…” ‘No such need for other things, primarily stalking,’ Dexter thought. But he was quickly pulled from his own head as he noticed despite Doakes’ taking the file. He was still there, staring at him dead in the face.
“Something's off about you Morgan, more than usual. Your eyes.” He pointed finger inches away from his face before putting his hand down and standing up straight. “They’re different.” Doakes crossed his arms. Still standing at the desk as he moved his head up slightly, looking down on him. Dexter felt as if time stopped in its tracks. There was no way Doakes’ noticed the contacts did he? Sure finding contacts the exact same shade of green was difficult, but he was sure he did a good enough job. No one should have paid that close attention. But low and behold this man did.
“You know most people wouldn't notice that. Anymore observational and people’ll think you might be flirting with me.” Dexter laid back into his chair, creaking as it did and now it was his turn to cross his arms and move his head up languidly. His eyebrow arching ever so slightly to question Doakes. He almost smirked as Doakes took a stepback, clearly caught off guard by it even if his face refused to let Dexter in on any thought the man was having.
“Shut the fuck up, you weirdo. You look like shit anyway.” Doakes huffed. Almost stomping his way back to his desk and once out of sight Dexter let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. Hopefully that would be enough to get him off his tail, at least for a night. He sat back up in his chair and right before he got back to work he heard Masuka’s signature laugh.
“Man, that guy has such a hate boner for you. What did you, of all people, do to piss him off?” Masuka enunciated the middle section of the last sentence. Dexter swallowed thickly in response.
“I don't really know.” Dexter mumbled, before setting his mind back to his lab work.
He really hoped this had worked. His hunger was driving him up the wall now.
***
Dexter really couldn't keep going like this. He felt barely alive, he needed to eat, desperately. He had driven to the Everglades and almost threw himself out of his car when he had seen a panther. It wasn't enough to fill the deep pit of hunger in his stomach, but it could tide him over until a decent meal, an appetizer. His speed and coordination weren't all there, and he was practically dumbfounded when the big cat swung a paw at him before he lunged and went right for the throat. He found his strength and pinned the creature down as it yowled and swiped at him furiously. Scratching his clothes and across his back as he quickly sank his teeth down and drank. He knew the injury wouldn't be good, he couldn't feel where the shredded fabric of his shirt and skin began. But this quick bite should’ve helped him, he may just have to eat sooner than later though which proved problematic. Despite this he mouthed the thick, earthy panther fur as he tasted the signature flavor of iron once more. He kept going even after he knew logically the creature had given it all he could. Eventually he lowered the animal down and stared at it. Panthers were endangered. He should've eaten something else, a deer, or a bobcat, hell even marsh rabbit would've been better. Something that couldn't have hurt him the way this one did, trying to save its own life as this monster ended it. But he didn't, he was instead left hurt and still hungry. Feeling a bit more like himself when the burning in his throat lessened. Still an ever present reminder but dulled when he licked his lips for any remnants.
He got up and dragged the panther's limp body by its hind legs,carefully making his way deeper into the Everglades. The last thing he needed was a run in with a gator, especially when he was bringing them dinner. He found his way in front of a particularly dense marsh and threw the body of the panther into the water. He stood for a minute and watched the panther's bloodless corpse slowly sink into the swampy mass as Dexter himself stood around calf deep. He made quick work of wading out of the marsh and back to his car, looking a hot mess but he was out late enough in the Everglades. The only other people out here at this moment of time were oding their own sketchy shit, and most likley would not have wanted to be traced back to it, if there even was any others.
Now here he was, in a tattered shirt with blood stained along the front collar, wet jeans, and absolutely soaked footwear. He hated the feeling, being a vampyre exposed him to so much sensation but this combination was particularly intolerable. But either way he had to make his way home, more rejuvenated than when he arrived but not at all satisfied. He lifted the part of his collar drenched in blood to his mouth, sucking lightly as he savored all he could get. Eventually he spat out the fabric and began his journey back home. He was too desperate. He needed something real. A hearty meal. He didn't want to steal from work, the last thing he needed was his sloppy desperation leaving a mess. DNA prints, getting caught redhanded by Doakes, losing control in the station, all very real possibilities he could not risk. Doakes had let up slightly. Giving him a larger window during the night, he used this window for the first time tonight for the panther. He hoped that his previous comment at the station had rattled him, causing apprehension because of the implications spoken aloud.
Almost as in spite of Dexter's own internal dialogue, when he had arrived he had spotted Doakes in the passenger seat of a recently impounded vehicle. Dexter felt a sense of dread wash over him. He was almost definitely panicking now but he had to calm down. He had gotten a chance to let loose, so now he had to put the mask back on. Pulling down the sun visor he looked at his reflection. His shirt was in worse condition than he thought and the front collar portion of his shirt was wetted with a mixture of saliva and sweat. The humidity from the atmosphere had done nothing to help his soaked jeans. He wondered if he could just stay in his car and Doakes would vanish into thin air.
This didn't happen of course.
He flipped the sun visor of his car back up once he had seen Doakes begin a steady pace to his car. He sighed and threw his bead back into the driver's seat and gripped the wheel once more, shaking it slightly. ‘Fuck.’ This was already a horrible situation to explain and a ripped off steering wheel would only make it worse. He eventually loosened his grip and lightly wiped the wheel, frowning at the nail marks. Nothing too deep but it just seemed to sour his mood even further. He used the palms of his hands to flatten his hair, but this just seemed to contribute to his disheveled appearance. He mentally prepared himself to roll the window down as he heard a knock on the window. There wasn't a way out of this, not that he could think of, so down the window went. He watched as the Sargent's brows immediately furrowed together as he scanned the redhead's appearance. Dexter had leaned back into his seat, hoping his positioning hid how torn up the shirt was.
“Morgan what the fuck did you do.” Doakes’ hand gripped onto the window track as he reached behind his back as Dexter's hands shot up in a defensive position, eyes blown wide.
“Hey ..calm down, don't be rash.” Dexter tried to reason. He hated having to look at him with pleading eyes but it would best fit the current facade.
“Don’t fucking tell me what to do motherfucker! What sketchy shit did you do?” Doakes hadn't continued to grab at the gun Dexter presumed he was reached for. But he hadn't put both hands on the track either.
“I went fishing, and some… some animal lunged at me and I just ran!” Dexter tried his best to imitate fear, which wasn't too far off from what he felt in the moment despite the different source. He had to act more shaken up, putting a slight tremble in his hands as he spoke. Audibly gulping when he finished his sentence. Staring straight at Doakes. He wondered how much he'd buy.
“Who the fuck goes fishing at 4 in the morning? Where did you even go to get an animal after you? Shit isn't adding up Morgan!” Doakes yelled, leaning away slightly as his hand reached quickly for his gun and pointing it at Dexter between his eyes. Dexter made his eyes widen even further, the bullet wouldn't kill him but Doakes realizing it hadn't might.
“I do.” He stammered. “I go to the Everglades, it's not that far. When I can't sleep I like being in nature. It's relaxing.” Unlike the current situation he was in, he thought. He looked from the barrel of the gun up at Doakes again. “It’s stupid I should've been more careful I know. I wasn't thinking. Like I said, sleep hasn't been my friend recently.” He laughed nervously, something was bound to convince him. Something had to. He watched the barrel of the gun, focusing his full attention on it.
“The bullets are silver.” Doakes stated. Facial expressions easing while the tension in his jaw never let up. Dexter paused before looking around to imitate confusion. He was fucked. Beyond fucked actually. Even though silver wouldnt do any modicum of difference, what Doakes was hinting at was fucking life ruining. His mind went into overdrive as he weighed the pros and cons of killing Doakes. But it was wrong, it wasn't how things were done. He didn't fit the code. But he couldn't be caught. This dilemma would’ve had Harry rolling in his fucking grave, he could already hear his voice telling him that he was taught better than this.
“I really don't know what you're talking about Sargeant.”
“I know what you are.” The two paused, staring at each other as Dexter slowly lowered his arms to his lap despite Doakes now fully pressing the gun to the space between his eyes. “Say it.”
‘I’m irritated about what I am, ’ he thought. Now fully feeling the tip of the gun pressed against his face. He fluttered his eyes closed in mock fear as he gulped, smelling the blood pulsing through Doakes’s veins as his wrist came ever so close to continually nudge the gun. Dexter inhaled slightly, he was so hungry.
“You know I didn't want this to happen to you Dexter,” The redhead's eyes opened at the sound of his Father. Looking off into the distance of the parking lot seeing his familiar form. “How hard we worked to avoid this, what do you think your sister is going to think?” Harry spoke. Dexter's jaw tightened at the mention of Debra. She had been through too much recently with Brian, the last thing she needed was this. Doakes’s eyes traced the man at gunpoint to see nothing, just empty space.
“The fuck are you looking at creeper. If you know what's good for you you'll answer me.” Doakes commanded once more. Dexter's mind was completely blank with nothing other than the illogical thought to drain Doakes then and there once more. He needed to just think but not with the urge weighing all so heavy on his mind. The panther had satiated him just well enough to heal but now, in this moment, he felt as if he was right back to square fucking one. He should've just avoided the meal, been patient, like he had been taught. But he hadn't, this was his consequence for undermining the code Harry had so carefully crafted for his own protection. Doakes analyzed the man, so clearly caught without a viable excuse. The small tremble in his jaw as he continued to eye Doake's wrist, an obvious pulsepoint. He watched him bite the inside of his cheeks almost as if it took him everything to not lunge at him right then and there. “Youre hungry aren't you, you sick bastard. Did I interupt your fuckin’ dinner plans Morgan?”
“Shut up.” Was the only response Dexter had as he forced his eyes to stare at something else. Darting between the gun, Doakes, and his lap. Doakes let out a chuckle. Comical that the lab tech had clearly put so much effort into a meal while receiving none of the fruits of his labor. He almmst fellt bad for him. Key word being almost. Doakes trailed the gun down Dexter’s face pressed up against his lips in one swift motion.
“This the last time I'm gonna tell you to stop telling me what to do motherfucker.”
“Silver won't do anything, that's kind of a myth actually.” Was all Dexter could mumble. He needed to get out of this. He was the stronger creature here, every voice of reason yelling at him to give into his base instincts. But something deep, even deeper than the hunger, even deeper than the bloodlust, told him to stay put. It wasn't fear or logic. Something new and undefined. Something with no guidelines. No rules. Nothing for him to have expectations for. He was lost in a sea of himself, who was he without the code? But this wasn't covered in it. Some dark part of him drank in the feeling, much like he did his own victims. Some all consuming part wanted him to stay put, gun pressed to his mouth. So long he had been so powerful, making himself weaker for the sake of himself. The last thing he needed to do was break a table by accident and have his secret life being revealed. But now he was forced into weakness. He could still attempt to find a way out of this, but this was new. He wanted to keep pushing. How weak could Doakes make him? How long would Dexter let himself stay that way? When would he get the upper hand, if ever?
“Youre lying.” Doakes adjusted his stance, pulling his shoulders back. Hand tightening on the window track.
“If I was bluffing, would I do this?” Dexter opened his lips and slid the gun into his mouth as he pressed forward, maintaining eye contact the entire time. He had taken a minute to adjust to the feeling. Staring at the muzzle of the gun and Doakes’ finger grazing over the trigger. He inhaled once more, drinking in the metallic scent he wished was blood instead of a firearm. Doakes stood still, the muscle of his brows creasing as he watched the freak under him. Dexter wrapped his lip around the gun and proceeded to bob his head up and down ever so lightly. It didn't take an expert to realize Dexter was simulating here, it also didn't take an expert to realize he wasn't exactly experienced in it either.
“Is this what you do? You get off on it huh?” Doakes asked before Dexter pulled his head back. God this is so fucking annoying, he rolled his eyes and formed light fist at his sides. He lightly punched his thigh as he turned his head away, to stare at the front windshield instead. Doakes lowered the gun, now not directly pointing at the redhead's skull, instead lowered and in the direction of the driver seat. It made no sense to him how the lab tech didnt fight back, maybe that fight really had fucked him up. But there was clearly something else, no matter how deliriously hungry the other may be, putting the barrel of a gun in his mouth went against every instinct any creature could have. Even if that creature didn't die from silver, it would still hurt like a bitch, especially considering the crackling along the man's back still struggled to seal.
“Why’d you put the gun down?” Dexter turned his head ever so slightly, shoulders hunched with hands still balled into fists. “Dont you want to defend yourself?” he laughed with no humor behind it.
“You could've tried to kill me a lot earlier if you wanted to, but you haven't." Dexter huffed, turning his direction back to the windshield. The sane parts of him celebrated in relief as the supposed danger had mitigated itself, a possible victim leaving themselves so open to attack. But one part of him loathed the loss. Whatever heat in his stomach that began to pool quickly died as its fuel had been exterminated. Doakes noticed his seemingly dejected appearance and decided to test a theory, bringing the gun back up to his head, now flat against the space above Dexter's ear. Dexter couldn't help but straighten his spine as the hairs on the back of his neck stood in anticipation. The two locked eyes with one another as Dexter’s eyes were lidded low. A combination of hunger, fear, suspense, fear, and desire coursed through him. He had no idea what would happen next.
And he wanted it. He wanted it bad.
He pressed his knees together as he felt a certain stiffness forming, shakily exhaling. He looked at Doakes through his eyelashes and hoped that was enough of a response. That his eyes, shaky breaths, and leaning into the gun said all he couldn't, for he knew his mouth would disobey him. And Doakes observed, something he was so very skilled at. He observed the shameless gaze, the leaning, the permission Doakes didn't know he was granted. And he listened.
***
Once in the apartment that the two had quickly rushed into, Dexter and Doakes had crashed their lips together. Dexter’s hands fell up and down the Sergeant's body before digging his nails into the others clothed back as Doakes had slammed his body into the closed front door. Emitting a small, hushed moan into Doakes’ mouth as Dexter gripped his shirt. The Sergeant's hands had wandered down, holding the man by his ass. Dexter pulled back from the kiss and stared at the man between pants, mouth agape.
“Lets-” He cut himself off with an unsanctimonious huff, “Couch.”
“You really are all that desperate for it, you freak?” Doakes smirked, Dexter shoved the man off of him. Doakes stepped back to catch himself.
“Fuck you.” He snarled, stepping forward to approach him, every word laced with vitriol masking something deeper. Doakes grabbed him by the wrists and pulled him in front of him. Forcing the man to walk forward to not trip as Doakes continued a path toward the couch. Making him bend over the arm of the couch while his torso remained relatively suspended from the shoulders up, hands secured behind his back. A position he could easily break out of but let himself fester in, dick straining in his pants as it pressed up against his home furniture. He had wanted this, his wish was being fulfilled, a want so deep he wasn't sure where it was buried. Yet something wasn't right, something was off. He lightly kicked Doakes’s legs back, making the man take the hint and step back, all while releasing his grip on the man's wrist as his hand tentatively reached for the gun he had returned to his holster. Just in case.
But that wasn't what Dexter had planned, he used his newfound freedom of his hands to pull himself onto the couch, then promptly flipping himself over and laying on his back. He listlessly spread one leg that fell off the side of the couch as an invitation, and who was Doakes to deny it? Doakes followed the other man's lead and was quickly on top of him, hands planted around Dexter's head to stabilize himself with his lower half pressed onto the other. Dexter had brought his hands up to grip the Sergeant's face before resuming their kiss. Heads bobbing and mouths hungry with want and lust as the two continued. Dexter letting out an occasional whine when the Sergeant brought his knee up to the man's clothed crotch.
“What do you want?” He breathed into the man's ear after pulling away. Dexter had nested his head into the crook of Doakes’ shoulder. “Get your fucking head away from there Moragan, I dont want any lips around my neck.” Dexter licked the area lightly before Doakes shifted his weight onto one side and used a spare hand to push the redhead down onto the couch. Dexter wriggled under him. This was a new overwhelming feeling, the overwhelming urge to feed mixed with pure sexual ecstasy was an all new experience he didn't know what to do with.
“God you're so annoying” Dexter panted, wetting his lips as his eyes trailed Doakes. “You know what I want.”
“Youre not getting any of my blood Morgan.” Doakes stated, plain and simple as if that was the deciding factor. Voice ever so commanding, as if his word was law and Dexter shivered.
“Shut up and just…” He paused, bringing his hands up to trail up Doaks’ body, starting at his ass before slipping them under his shirt. Feeling the man's hot muscles flinch from the icy cold hands feeling them up as he went along the subtle curve of the man's waist, before ending their journey and resting on his upper back. “...just fuck me.” He panted as he dug his fingernails into the man's back for emphasis. Doakes huffed and shifted his weight equally now, resuming an earlier position as he continued to aggressively kiss. Dexter clawing at him, reaching, wanting, and needing more.
Doakes pulled back, sitting on his haunches now as he sat upright, adjusting his arms to begin unbuckling Dexter’s pants. Dexter quickly began to start stripping off his already tattered shirt, essentially ripping it off his own body before reaching to undo Doakes’ jeans before having his wrist grabbed before any real effort could be made. Doakes undid the forensic scientist's pants as Dexter was quick to kick off whatever fabric below his calves still struggled to come off, leaving him in just his boxers underneath the man still fully clothed above him. Doakes just felt so overwhelmingly warm, as if his body heat was going to revive Dexter. His warmth bringing him humanity. Dexter bit back a moan at the thought.
Sex was such a strange act to him. Something so deeply intimate, showing your most vulnerable state to someone and having them reciprocate. Just pure connection, his inability to connect the way people needed him to drive most of them off. Dexter was barely a person, a monster lurking beneath the surface, but now he peeled back his exterior to show Doakes a glimpse of that humanity. And Doakes was lapping up every detail, whether he wanted him to or not. Watching his performance fall apart at the seams, and he stayed. Either to blackmail him or whatever the circumstance, Dexter was seen. Not known, but witnessed, observed. But this right now, it didn't feel strange. It didn't feel like a performance. It didn't feel like a burden to bear for the sake of release and perceived normalcy. He felt alive for the first time after he had turned; and even before then for that sake. He felt feelings that could only be described as electrifying. He bit down hard on his own lip as Doakes palmed him through his boxers.
Dexter laid back and looked at Doakes through heavy lids and lashes as he could hear the man's blood rushing through his body. He felt a bit of drool dribble out the side of his mouth and wiped it off with his forearm. God this was fucking torture, he was so damn hungry with a meal primed and readied in his home. It was so simple, so easy, to give in. To feast, but he didn't want to. If he had eaten him right then and there the two wouldn't be able to finish what they started. And Dexter was not willing to give this up, not when he didn't know if he could feel this actualized with anyone else. Now fully hard and straining through his boxers from Doakes’ touch, the man pulled down the redheads boxers, watching in amusement as his cock sprung free and Dexter sighed in contentment. Dexter leaned forward and began to undo the other man's belt, without interruption this time, as Doakes spat into his right hand.
Doakes brought his spit laden hand down to stroke Dexter’s full length, resulting in a hearty groan from the redhead. Closing his eyes he tried to focus on undoing the button and zipper, Doakes steadying his pace as Dexter reached into his fly. Doakes’ felt so warm, every part of him felt like lava against Dexter's skin and he was half convinced he was melting. His hands practically felt like they were burning Dexter's skin, mimicking the burning sensation in his throat. He let out a drawn out groan as Doakes thumbed over the tip of his cock, dribbling with precum. He gripped the waistband of Doakes’ pants, pushing them down with his other hand still occupied with the man's cock. Ending with the pants pulled down to about mid-thigh as Dexter lazily stroked him, before Doakes pulled both his hands away and fixed himself to pull his boxers down as well, resting under his balls.
Dexter lightly raised both eyebrows at the sight. Doakes wasn't exactly small and he wasn't exactly experienced. But staring at the man's erect dick, all he could feel was want for more. He would want more until his body rejected it, until he couldn't take it anymore. He watched as Doakes extended his index and middle finger to Dexter's mouth.
“Suck.” Doakes ordered. Dexter frowned slightly, looking down at the fingers then up at Doakes. “Dont bite.” Dexter felt a smile tugging at his lips as he obliged, wrapping them around the digits as he felt them enter his mouth. “Jesus is every part of you this fucking cold?”
“Is every part of you this fucking warm?” Dexter mocked back, muffled from the space being taken up in his mouth. Sounding increasingly less coherent as Doakes went back to stroking him, Dexter gave a choked out moan surrounding his fingers. Lubricating the best he could, swirling his tongue over the fingertips and then laying flat to hollow out his cheeks, sucking intensely as if it were the gun once more. God how he missed that gun, whining as he locked eyes with the holster once more. Bobbing his head up and down as he slowly rocked his hips into Doakes’ grasp as he shut his eyes. Trying to imagine the fingers as Doakes’ gun. It wasn't the same, Doakes was too warm, the fingers weren't shaped the same and Dexter whined in desperation. Doakes slipped his fingers out of Dexter's mouth, leaving a trail of drool between them and his lips before eventually breaking off. Doakes took his hands off Dexter cock much to his disappointment and instead fixed his positioning to have one hand on his hip and another near his ass. Lightly circling his entrance.
Dexter moaned, throwing his head back as he brought up a hand to stifle himself. Doakes continued to circle the entrance with no real forward progress before the lab tech pressed his hips back in frustration. Doakes smirked again, Dexter hated his stupid smugness, the way his eyes turned into half moons in pure fucking glee at his supposed control of the other. As if Dexter couldn't reach up and snap his neck in one swift motion, as if Dexter wasn't actively fighting that instinct now. How he loathed this man. But he was quickly brought out of his own spiel of resentment as Doakes stuck two fingers into the first digit. Dexter bit down on his own hand, causing the skin to crack, peeling around his canines as he stifled out a moan. Gripping his own face like he was going to rip it off. This was so much restraint, and simultaneously so much reckless abandon.
“Dont act shy now. Move your hand, I want to hear your sorry ass.” Doakes grunted, digging his thumb into Dexter's hard and cool hip. Dexter only gave him a glare in response before Doakes went to the third knuckle without warning, causing Dexter to shut his eyes in pain and pleasure while fully chomping down on himself now, not even his own damaged hand being able to stop his wanton noises. He should be embarrassed, any normal person should. He knew this. But he couldn't help it. He was too far gone.
“I…mmm, I hate…you.” Was all he could muster without shaming himself even further. Letting out noises he wasn't even sure he was capable of making a day ago as Doakes stretched his fingers, lightly scissoring. Taking breaks at certain angles to give Dexter a chance to relax and adjust to the new sensation. Dexter huffed and panted, spreading his legs even wider without thinking as he trailed his own hand down south to pump his leaky cock. As Dexter adjusted to the feeling, becoming less tense, Doakes hesitantly placed his third finger near the entrance; scanning Dexter’s face for a reaction. The fucked out lab tech only dumbly nodded and lulled his head to the side. Doakes felt his cock twitch from the redhead being so wrecked from just his fingers, his hips bucked at the thought of what he could be like with his length inside of him.
Doakes pushed in the third digit gently, watched as the lab techs back arched in response. Dexter moaned freely as he felt a familiar tension building up in abdomen as he continued to stroke faster, picking up his pace as he felt high whines die in his throat. He pushed his hips back to fuck himself as Doakes’ fingers as he worked to chase his own orgasm. Eventually his thighs slammed shut around the outside of Doakes legs as his back arched and he groaned, coming hard into his own hand as Doakes helped ride him through up, keeping the pace consistent. As Dexter lay, coming down from his own orgasm, Doakes maintained his pace. Dexter’s body twitching in response as all he could do was grunt and pant at the feeling. He was given a chance to breathe when Doakes removed his fingers slowly
His chest heaved as he weakly threw his hand over his chest. Lightly scratching at his skin, eventually reaching toward his throat. His thirst was unbearable now as he stared at Doakes only for his mouth to water. Doakes noticed the change in the man, pointing his gun at him once more. Dexter licked his lips and smirked at the gun. Grabbing the barrel of it but not quite taking it from Doakes grasp. Instead directing it at his chest, where his heart once beat. He moaned, feeling the cold metal brush against his nipple, shrinking away in overstimulation.
“You really are a sick fuck arent you?” Doakes hissed, simultaneously disgusted and aroused. Before Dexter hurriedly helped him take off his own shirt, leaving Doakes in just his pants and boxers scrunched up at almost below his knees now.
“And…hngh. You're still here…Sarg.” Dexter panted out. Feeling his limp cock begin to stiffen once more at the pressure of the barrel. Doakes’ eyes drifted down at the man's crotch, his own cock still painfully hard. He shifted his other hand holding Dexter's hips to lift his legs and place his groin between Dexter’s thighs. Lining himself up with Dexter's entrance as he began to push into him. Dexter whined in overstimulation as his already spent cock was now erect once more. His head thrown back again, back of his head pressing into the plush surface of the couch as Doakes grunted above him, gun still pointed at his chest with one hand gripping his thigh. He slowly continued to insert himself further, with breaks on occasion as Dexter's breathing became more erratic before settling as he stretched out to properly fit Doakes girth and length. Eventually he was at full hilt and Dexter had pulled his hands up to grab whatever parts of Doakes he could reach, settling on his arms as he scratched at them. Leaving light marks as he pulled the man closer. “Move” He huffed.
Doakes began slowly thrusting before eventually picking up in speed and intensity as he grunted from the tightness of the man he was inside. Hitting the other man's prostate as he groaned loudly, head lulled to one side as the drool pooling in his mouth from sheer hunger trickled off the side. He closed his eyes in ecstasy as his mouth started to open, inhaling Doakes’ scent deeply. He could smell the rich metallic scent lurking just beneath Doakes’ skin and he pulled the man closer to him. Both hands now gripping the man's biceps as he pulled him down to his chest. Doakes’ grip on the gun weakened as he let it fall to the side, his hand falling from off of Dexter's thigh as the vampire dragged him up. Doakes adjusted his position back to the same as it was in the beginning, both hands keeping himself sturdy as they were planted outside of the man's shoulders as his grip retained on his muscular arms. Digging in far enough there would definitely be bruises as Doakes continued his thrusting, feeling his own climax incoming sooner than later. Dexter trailed his hands up to behind the man's neck, pushing his head down as the two interlocked to kiss once again.
Hungry mouths connecting as Dexter moaned into the other's mouth, Doakes letting out a groan in unison. Dexter's hands continued to claw up and down Doakes’ exposed skin wherever he could. He needed to consume him, he needed to become one. He needed to not know where one started and the other began. He needed to drink in every fiber and being of the man above him. ‘All consuming lust and hunger would be our legacy’, he thought. Dexter bit down harshly on Doakes’ lip, causing a spurt of blood as feeling the taste of iron immediately pushed Dexter over the edge onto his second orgasm. Hurriedly lapping up whatever he could from the small incision as Doakes let out a low groan above him, coming inside Dexter before pulling away before the redhead could make the incision greater. Doakes hurriedly grabbed the gun and pointed it at the tired vampyre attempting to disconnect from the other.
“I told you no fucking biting Morgan!” Doakes yelled, pulling himself out sharply leaving Dexter to hiss at the loss as come leaked out of him. He lay on the coach writhing, quickly curling into the fetal position as he turned his head to face away from Doakes as quickly as possible, squirming as if Doakes had shot him.
“I need…” Dexter moaned, his voice rough from thirst and sex as his eyes screwed shut while he continued to writhe on the coach as Doakes stretched out the distance between them, pulling his pants back up with one hand. “You need to. You have to leave. I…I can’t you have to.” Dexter urged, making eventual eye contact before his eyes quickly darted to the cut on his lip. “You smell too good, Doakes… I can’t control it.” Dexter huffed, changing his positioning as he got up to sit on his haunches, leaning forward as he did so.
“Youve been able to hold off this long, you could've killed me a long time ago but you didn't, you can take this.” Doakes reassured, even if he didn't believe it he had to get the redhead to, at least until he made his way to the car. But before he could react Dexter was suddenly in front of him, as if he had almost teleported over. With a hand on Doakes’s jaw, exposing his neck, while the other had already ripped the gun from him.
“This is such a shame…I really enjoyed that, you know.” Dexter mulled, licking his lips as he brought his mouth closer to the other man's neck. “But…you taste far too good.” Dexter had his mouth opened wide as Doakes had his entire body tensed, only a centimeters gap between the two of them now.
“This isnt right and you know it, even a fucked up guy like you does better than this.” The words caused Dexter to back up immediately. The fucking code, he didnt fit. He let his hunger control him. He put even further distance between them and plopped to the floor, hands covering his face as he threw the gun down onto the ground.
“Get out, Doakes. Get out now.” Dexter’s hands firmly gripped his face as he slammed his eyes shut, ignoring every instinct and drive telling him to kill, to slaughter, to feed. He let the burning in his throat and ringing in his head overcome him before hearing Doeka retrieve the gun, then the door opening and shutting. He sat on the floor like that for far too long. A solution would be found but not without discrediting his entire reason for existence. He had lost himself in carnal need, it wouldn't happen again. Doakes’ would be a problem for the morning, but once he knew Doakes had left. He immediately began the hunt for a meal. He could never let himself starve this long again. He couldn't lose himself like this again.