Urges

TITLE: Urges

AUTHOR: Midknight

CHAPTER: 1 of ?

FANDOM: Dexter

SHIP: Dexter / Lyla

RATING: NC-17

CATEGORY: Erotica

SPOILERS: Season 2 - A couple.

SYNOPSIS: Lyla's question about his fantasies and dark urges gives the monster inside something new to contemplate besides killing.

DISCLAIMER: None of these characters belong to me. They belong to whoever created them and whoever else does. I pay homage to them and I make no profit from this story in any fashion, way or means.

AUTHORS NOTE: This is my first Dexter Fic. I apologize before hand and hope you will forgive any errors or blatant discrepancies.

FEEDBACK: Yes Please. It helps. It really, really helps. - midknight_tales@yahoo.com

CHAPTER ONE

Dexter sat in a chair in his livingroom, occassionally taking a swig from the bottle of beer he holds in his hand. He abscently picks at the label as he looks at the grate of the airconditioning unit which hides his trophies. The room is dim, lit by a single lamp, the perfect lighting for his contemplative mood. Mixed, with the beer he can still taste her. Whether her flavour still lingers on his lips or it is the strength of his memoy, he doesn't know or care. Lyla...

He contemplates the pale, dark haired British woman that a short while ago had been nothing more than his AA sponsor. Her smooth, but defined features; her dark, searching eyes and broad, full lips; her tall, lithe frame, her narrow waist and the lush, full curve of her hips that lead down to her long, shapely legs and then they were her full, pert breasts with their tiny, pale, dusky pink nipples in the middle of quarter-sized areola. Her skin was like porcelain and besides the dark wealth of curls on her head, she was completely hairless.

They didn't have sex or make love, they fucked and it was the most liberated he had felt when not actually killing something or someone. That first time had been powered by his rage at having his life spiral so fast and far out of his control. He had had the urge to lash out, to kill and Harry's code be damned. Her in-his-face attitude and words had taunted the monster inside him. He'd thrown her on the bed and straddled her, his hand wrapped around her throat, the monster hard in his eyes as his grip tightened, but instead of fear he found defiance, even amusement and an awakening of lust in her dark eyes. He had become hard, almost instantly and then he pressed his lips to hers. She had struggled against him, but her mouth opened willingly under his, allowing him to taste and explore it. And, then they were rolling around on the bed, desperately tearing at each others clothes. She continued to struggle against him, making him grapple and wrestle with her, allowing him to work out his frustrations as his ardour grew. She moans into his mouth before he breaks the kiss. His lips tasted her skin and he let his teeth test the muscles underneath as he feels her do the same at his shoulder.

At one point she ended up straddling him on her knees and she pulled her dress off, over her head. He had noticed, abscently and out of his usual keen sense of observation before, that she never wore a bra and as she tossed her dress aside she had revealed her full, milky white breasts to his eyes. His hands grasps and kneads the smooth curve between her waist and hip and pulls himself up to her. He lets his hand slide up the ridges and small valleys of her ribcage, feeling her heart beat like a frightened bird beneath his palm. He had captured one of the slightly swaying orbs, sucking the dusky tip into his mouth, feeling it stiffen and grow against his tongue as he swirled the tip around it. His hand grasped and squeezed the breast not being attended to by his mouth. She panted and pressed her self into his mouth and hand, arching her back and rolling her shoulders as she ground down against the twitching tube of his erection. She yelped and laughed wildly as he bucked his hips up hard and twisted at the same time, throwing her off him and onto her back. He felt so alive and unlike with Rita he didn't feel the need to still maintain a tight reign on himself.

He reached for the waistband of her panties and with a powerful yank and a feral snarl he ripped the lace undergarment from her body. She gasped loudly as the material resisted and then tore and he tossed the ruined piece of lace across the room. He got his next surprise when he found her to be bald and her full, swollen folds were glistening and clearly on display between her spread legs. He ran two of his fingers through the fleshy, wet petals, collecting her thick cream and diddling her clit, liking the way his actions make her breath hitch and her feet slide restlessly and with a soft hissing noise on the sheets. The scent of her arousal wafted off her and surrounded him as he moved between her legs. Her fingernails dragged down his back and under the waistbands of his pants, which she had unfastened and unzipped earlier, and his boxers before pushing them off his hips and down his thighs and legs, far enough for him to roughly kick them off. Her fingernails scraped back up the back of his thighs before they dug into his ass cheeks as she squeezed them and pulled him towards her at the same time.

She cried out as he pounded into her, without restraint or guidance roughly finding her entrance and slamming his hips forward. Her legs spread further and her back arched, pressing herself up against him as her liquid heat and resisting flesh surrounded and dragged along his length with pleasurable friction and pressure. Her sex clutched at him, trying to slow or stall his sudden, brutal invasion. It failed as he plunged into her core with a heavy grunt. Her legs drew up and wrapped around him as he stayed inside her for a moment as he hungrily plundered her lips, nipping and sucking at them before delving his tongue deeply between them to dance with hers. He didn't stay still for long before pulling back his hips and then thrusting forward, hard. She gasped and cried out, tossing her head from side to side creating a wild dark halo with her wealth of black tresses as he started a hard, unrelenting and pounding pace inside her. He fucked her with long, powerful thrusts, grinding him self against her when his cock was fully seated inside her tight snatch. He exhaled hard and loudly through his nose with every powerful thrust and inhaled deeply as he withdrew.

Her hands lefts his ass and scrabbled at his chest, pushing against him as if to push him off her even as her hips started rising to meet his. He growled his displeasure and after a struggle, captured her wrists and and trapped them on the pillow on either side of her head. She strained against him and it only made him piston into her even harder and faster. His breathing was harsh and ragged as she panted. She cursed and encouraged him in the same breath, her English accent making her words seem even stranger and more exotic. Her sex was a tight, moist, hot furnace around his plunging shaft. Their bodies crashed together with wet noises and their torsos slid across each other on a slippery film of sweat. He buried his face in the smooth, warm, pliant pillows of her breasts. He ran his tongue up the valley of her cleavage tasting salt as his tongue collected the sweat that had gathered there. He found the hard little nub of her nipple and tested it less-than-lightly with his teeth, stretching it before letting go. He sucked at her firm flesh, leaving red ovals in his wake as he moved to her other nipple and repeated the process.

The rhythm of his plunging hips started to loose their regularity as he started to shudder and gritted his teeth with the effort of holding his release at bay. He continued to pound into her. His cock tingled and his balls boiled as her channel resisted when he thrust and then sucked at him as he drew back. He blinked in surprise as when he next powered into her, her sex locked around him in a near-painful clenched grip and she cired out a wild, triumphant "Yes!!!" as a fresh flood of thick, liquid heat surrounded him. He hadn't really cared about her pleasure, only his own, but having driven her to climax gave him a sense of power and pride that augmented his own growing feeling of gratification . His hips continued to drive forward and the friction against the pressure of her climax-clenched sex was too much for him and he threw his head back and bellowed his release to the ceiling as his butt and the small of his back tightened and his cock swelled and deflated with heavy surges as he pumped thick ropes of his seed into her. He could feel her taut stomach quiver and shudder against his. Pulses of ecstatic energy flooded his body, making his muscles misfire and his nerves sing. His grip on her wrists tightened without his conscious control, leaving bruises on her pale skin. His spine curved into a hard bow, the muscles around it rippling as they tensed and relaxed.

He groaned as he finally emptied himself inside her. His cock still twitched and jerked, trying to drain his balls completely as the energy of his orgasm ran it's course. Like with a power surge, his climax left his body taxed and drained and with a groan he released her wrists and collapsed, resting his weight on top of her, his cheek pillowed on her raggedly rising and falling breasts, breathing heavily. Her sex sporadically clenched around him and she murmured words he wasn't ready to comprehend as she lightly stroked his hair. He felt himself shrink out of her followed by a flood of their mixed juices. They both groaned softly as he rolled off her to lie on his back next to her. Their breathing slowly returned to normal and the galloping beat of his heart slowed and the pounding of his blood in his ears died away. The ceiling above him slowly came into focus and he realised he felt a strange sense of peace, strange because he had only ever felt it before after a perfect capture and kill.

But, that had been then, now as he sat in his livingroom he contemplated something she had asked him during their last wild bout of passion on the slippery red silk sheets in her bed only hours ago. She'd asked him if he had any dark fantasies or hidden urges and he had told her he was pretty good at acting on those. "If only she knew how violently true that was." He thought with a snort and another swig of his beer. But, her words had been milling around in his head and now he allowed himself the leisure to really contemplate her question in the context in which she had asked them. His mind started to conjure images of what the real him would like to do to Lyla's lean, pale body and a pleased, wicked smile twitches onto his lips.

TO BE CONTINUED