Almost

A/N This is just a short drabble I wrote one morning when trying to work through some writer's block. JeremyxDexter is, admittedly my OTP. Yes, I know I'm in a small category of people who even like this pairing. Since this was just a short little spur-of-the moment fic I'm not really seeking crit, but hope you can find something to enjoy!
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Almost


“Keep walking.”

Jeremy couldn’t help but feel as though he knew the voice. Repeat customers were not uncommon in his…line of work…but it was uncommon for them to change the location on him. If this man was a repeat customer, he was not so paranoid the first time around. It was against Jeremy’s own personal set of rules to let the customer choose the location. It went against every survival instinct he had, and Jeremy had a lot of survival instincts.

As he followed the hooded man’s directions, he was taken straight into the marsh, the same marsh where he attempted his second kill just days before. Jeremy’s breath caught in his throat and his heart rate sped up. He did recognize this voice, the man that it belonged to had been the first person to ever make him feel anything.

He had first felt anger toward him for disrupting his kill, anger enough that he smashed in his car windows. Later the man had made him feel fear as he pinned him to the column of the half-way house’s entertainment room. In that instance he had sensed the man’s darker nature, and he also felt an odd sort of kinship to him. He was sure the man, the killer, was going to kill him, but when he made his confession, something in the other man had waivered. Mercy? No, that hardly seemed his style. Maybe it was simply an understanding. Then the advice, killer to killer, not to kill those that didn’t deserve it, who did this guy think he was?

If Jeremy was honest with himself he experienced one more emotion that night. After the adrenaline wore off, as he lay on his cot that night, the prospect of death, the fear, the anger, the kinship, it all culminated into an enthralling sort of excitement, the core of which seemed to settle into his groin.

An erection? Are you serious? For that guy?

Jeremy smiled as he remembered his mental reprimands. He had denied himself that night; denied the man the satisfaction of also making him feel pleasure and desire. No, those were lines he wouldn’t let him cross.

But now…now he hoped that was the reason he’d been brought here. He had fantasized about the man almost daily since their intimate encounter. He thought of him as he sliced up his second victim, wondered if he’d be upset that he hadn’t listened to his advice. The boy he killed didn’t deserve to die. He was a privileged, mousy kid. Rich parents, the high-profile kind. He was cocky and arrogant to be sure, but hardly crimes that would condemn him to death; a good ass-kicking, maybe, but not death.

Jeremy didn’t care though. He had been overwhelmed by the need to feel. His first kill had been so satisfying. Revenge was indeed sweet. But he found only bitterness in his latest kill. He almost didn’t finish the job, he’d been so disappointed in the non-emotion of it all. But he couldn’t risk the boy being found before he bled out, so he finished what he started, and the rich white boy was dead before Jeremy had reached the end of the hall.

Jeremy grunted, the wind knocked out of him as he was forced up against a tree, much the same way he had been against the column of the halfway-house. This time he was sure he saw it. It had been dark last time, and he was unsure, but this time there was no doubt. The sunlight glinted off of the needle in the other man’s hand.


“I want to know why.” The man demanded harshly into his ear, his grip on Jeremy’s wrist tightening to the point of bruising.

“Why what?”

“Why did you kill that boy. I warned you! And why are you selling yourself?”

“Why do you care?

“I don’t care. I just don’t appreciate being lied to.” The man’s tone changed to a higher pitch, mocking him as he continued, “Oh, don’t rape me, I killed the last person that raped me!”

“I did!” Jeremy yelled, angry that his motive was being called into question by the first person that actually understood it.

“Yeah, but was it because he raped you, or because he forgot to pay? Theft is hardly a crime worth dying for.” The man’s condescending tone cut him deeper than anything before it. Deeper than the insults that flew while he was in Juvie, deeper than the plastic spork that had been thrust into his side during the scrabble that led to his first lock down, deeper than the act of abandoning what little self respect he had left as he blew one of the guards in a supply closet in exchange for cigarettes to keep the other boys off of his back…literally. He’d even go as far as to say this hurt worse than having his crack whore mother tell him he wasn’t welcome in her house anymore.

“Fuck you!” Jeremy spat out, anger temporarily overcoming the hurt.

“I would, but I don’t think I have that much cash on me.” Again the man’s disconnected, yet condescending tone got to Jeremy.

“Listen…” he began, hoping to explain that this was not exactly his ideal job.

“No.” the curt answer seemed more out of place to Jeremy than the pain at his neck. He didn’t have long to dwell on it though, as his body went limp and his world went black.

Jeremy awoke to a stinging sensation in his face. His eyes flew open as he heard the tapping of glass, in time to see the man pinch together to plates of glass with a drop of blood between them. The itching sensation on his cheek as blood flowed from a fresh wound told him where it had come from. His head ached from whatever the man had given him to knock him out. He tried to look around, but found himself unable to turn his head.

am I still paralyzed?

“So you’re finally awake.” The man’s voice was almost cheery, he spoke so casually. “My victims are usually a bit bigger, so I think I may have gotten the dosage wrong. Oh well, better safe than sorry, right?” The man smiled dryly at his own joke. Knowing Jeremy hadn’t been safe, and implying that soon he would be very sorry.

Jeremy tried to respond but found that his mouth had been taped shut. “I’ll take the tape off, but scream,” the man held up a power drill for Jeremy to see, “and I’ll have to silence you.”

Jeremy nodded. Oddly the prospect of dying here didn’t scare him. It didn’t even seem possible. He couldn’t picture this man, the object of his fantasies, the only source of understanding he had found, killing him. It seemed wrong, somehow.

“I didn’t lie to you.” Jeremy said, his voice displaying a hint of fear that his body didn’t yet know he felt.

“No? Because you said you’d been raped. That was your justification for killing that boy, and now, here you are, giving it away to the highest bidder.”

A tear slid down Jeremy’s cheek. Remembering the boy he was back then seemed like he was remembering a friend he’d lost touch with. Someone he once knew, but no longer connected with. The necessity to survive had driven him to do things his former self would have never considered, and it all started with that one boy. That one, singular event that had awakened his inner monster. It had seemed such a worthy cause then, avenging his virginity, but this man was right, now he willingly sacrificed his dignity in favor of food in his stomach and clothes on his back. Not even that. He could live on $3 a day, and he earned much more than that on the street.

“I suppose now you’re going to give me a sob story about how you did it to survive?” The man sighed, boredom thick in his voice.

“No…I have no excuses.”

“And how about an excuse for ignoring my advice, and killing that other boy?”

“I…wanted to feel.”

“Feel what?”

“Something different.”

“Different than what?”

Jeremy let out a sob as more tears fell, “Nothing! I usually feel nothing! Empty! I can’t take it, living my life inside my head!”

Hearing those words Dexter realized that were it not for Harry’s guidance, he would be this boy. Lost, alone, desiring to feel.

living life inside his head. The boy couldn’t have put it any better.

It was almost as if Harry was speaking to him then, whispering, telling him that this boy didn’t deserve to die. He needed guidance, and with the right hand leading him, he could redeem himself, learn to kill only those who deserved it, learn to control his urges. Maybe neither one of them needed to be alone.

“Are you a good student, Jeremy?”

Jeremy fought to control his sobs, which had him on the verge of hyperventilating since his last statement. “What?”

“Are you a good student?”

“What, you mean like math and history and shit?”

“No.” Annoyance dominated Dexter’s tone now, “I mean, IF I taught you to live by my code, play by my rules, could you learn, or would you fuck up and have my ass on the line next to yours?”

“I could learn…”

“Are you willing to?”

“What’s my other option?”

Dexter shrugged nonchalantly. “Death. But don’t let that sway you. It’s a quick death for you now, but if you screw up, I’ll make sure you suffer.”

A shiver went through Jeremy at the man’s words. Not of fear, but of excitement. He had found a monster every bit as evil as he, but this monster was controlled, leashed, let out only when appropriate. He wanted to learn that, wanted to become more acquainted with this monster, and to let him show Jeremy how to tame his own beast.

More than that, Jeremy wanted to know his new-found teacher…intimately.

“I’ll do whatever you say. I’ll learn. Teach me.”

Dexter sighed as he began cutting the tape that held the boy down. He had no idea how he’d explain Jeremy’s sudden presence in his life, but he knew that the boy was his responsibility now. He would either be his greatest accomplishment, or his undoing.

Jeremy flinched slightly at the pain as the tape was ripped from his flesh.

“Woah, I didn’t need to see that.” Dexter said, raising his gloved hand to shield his side vision from Jeremy’s erection.

“Sorry,” Jeremy offered a sheepish grin, “I like pain.”

“Kid, you really do have problems.” Dexter said matter-of-factly

“Now, I’m willing to let you live with me but you…”

Dexter’s words were cut off as Jeremy lunged forward, pressing his lips to Dexter’s, his shock making it easy for the boy’s tongue to find its way into his mouth. After a few seconds, Dexter’s brain switched back over to rational thought, and he grabbed the boy’s arms, pushing him away.

“What the hell!?” he questioned, still a bit shocked, and, to his dismay, aroused.

“Please. I’ve wanted you since the first time you came to kill me.” Jeremy begged, and the hunger in his eyes was unmistakable.

“Wha…no! This is not what I had in mind! I’m going to be your mentor, not your….your…fuck buddy!”

“Please, you don’t have to do anything, just…just sit there.” Jeremy pleaded, pulling Dexter to sit down next to him.

“Jeremy, I’m not ga…”

Dexter’s words were cut off again by Jeremy’s mouth, and this time he couldn’t find the will to stop him. It was wrong. This was going to complicate things further, but god, was he a good kisser. Dexter may not feel desire, or passion, or love, but his body knew pleasure. His body liked pleasure. And this was definitely pleasure.

Jeremy slid Dexter’s shirt up, kissing along his collar bone, down his chest, teasing his nipples with quick little nips that drew unexpected moans from Dexter’s lips. Jeremy smiled ruefully up at him.

“Oh, you’ll do a lot more of that.” He promised, and Dexter found himself getting harder at the very way the boy was looking at him.
Then Jeremy was undoing Dexter’s belt, sliding his pants down, giving him just enough time to resolve himself to stop this.

“Jeremy, you have to…AH!”

There was no teasing, no fondling, no build up, no playful glances, and blushing cheeks like there were with Rita, no, there was just Dexter’s cock, completely engulfed by Jeremy’s mouth; his tongue, rubbing against all the right spots, his heat, making it impossible for Dexter to do anything but gasp, and give him his full attention. There was a reason men paid Jeremy for this, he was good at it. Really good, in fact, Dexter found himself wishing he could teach Rita some of those tricks.

“C’mon, killer,” Jeremy whispered, his voice huskier as he looked up at Dexter through thick eyelashes, “just relax and enjoy it.”
Then Jeremy started a rhythm. A mind-blowingly perfect rhythm. Not fast enough to bring Dexter to climax immediately, but just enough to keep him on the edge, riding that wave of ecstasy, muscles tensed in preparation for the big finish that never came.

Dexter was minutely aware of Jeremy stroking himself, something that he’d always wished to see Rita do, get off while pleasing him. Truth be told Dexter had a bit of a dominant streak. Well, in his fantasies, anyway. He always repressed it around women, he was afraid they’d see him for what he really was if he didn’t.

As he felt Jeremy’s other hand begin to toy with his balls, while maintaining the now agonizing pace, Dexter realized that he didn’t have to hide his true nature from Jeremy. He already knew him. He was free to be himself around this boy. Wrong as it might have been, Dexter gave in fully to his desire to grab the boy’s hair. He wrenched Jeremy’s head back, and began fucking his mouth, taking total control.

Dexter had expected Jeremy not to appreciate his actions, but noticed it was quite the opposite. Jeremy was coming, hard, his body shuddering in orgasm as Dexter made his final, violent, thrusts down the boy’s throat, his own orgasm one of the most intense he had ever experienced, and Jeremy licked his sensitive cock dry, catching every drop of his cum before falling back, sprawling out across the warehouse floor, the plastic sticking to his sweaty form.

Dexter could only do the same, laying back on the table, panting, eyes glazed over, satisfaction and adrenaline buzzing in his veins. Finally being able to release his dominant side was almost as satisfying as unleashing his inner killer. Almost.