Dexter ran his hands along Saracen's waist, feeling the curvature of his upper body, taken in by the tight corset. Then he felt around Saracen's neck, touching the warm skin, and tracing his finger along the vertebrae that snaked down into the dress. He wanted to take the dress off, really, but instead of giving in to those urges, he leaned forward, pressing himself closer to Saracen. And Saracen welcomed Dexter's affection; he always did.

Dexter's lips touched Saracen's neck, and Saracen shivered. A soft gasp escaped his lips.

"These clothes make you look pretty," Dexter whispered into Saracen's ear.

"But you'd rather these clothes off, wouldn't you," Saracen taunted, slight amusement in his voice. He could feel Dexter's hands exploring his body, touching more and more of him, searching for Saracen's boundaries. But Saracen wanted Dexter to touch him as much as Dexter did.

"Would you let me take them off?" Dexter breathed.

"I don't know… what do you think you're going to do to me?" Saracen asked, playing with Dexter.

Dexter grinned, "It's a surprise."

"I don't like surprises."

"You'll like this one," Dexter promised, his lips still brushing against Saracen's neck. He lifted his hand to feel Saracen's heart, beating rapidly. He tapped Saracen's chest, falling into a synonymous beat with his heart. Saracen blushed, and he turned to face Dexter, mild embarrassment rising in him. "You're so cute," Dexter laughed, running his hand through Saracen's hair.

"No, I'm not," Saracen muttered. His hands were trembling now, and he bunched his shirt into his fists, trying to hide the shakiness, but Dexter noticed.

"Saracen…" Dexter frowned, "I'm not trying to make you uncomfortable."

Saracen shook his head, "Never. I always feel safe with you."

"But your hands are shaking. Are you nervous?" Dexter asked.

"Christ," Saracen blushed, "my hands aren't shaking because I'm uncomfortable. It's because you're giving me butterflies."

Dexter blinked "butterflies?"

Saracen looked away, "when you touch me, I get butterflies."

Dexter's jaw opened slightly, and his eyebrows raised, but quickly that look of surprise turned into a grin. He stepped forward.

"Of course," Dexter said, reaching out to Saracen again, "Sometimes I forget that it's normal."

"That's a sign- you need a break from all the war and fighting. Shaky hands don't always equal trauma," Saracen whispered.

Dexter nodded, his eyes still on Saracen, unwavering, and his attention made something rise in Saracen's heart.

"I've decided," Saracen responded impatiently, "I'll let you take this dress off."

"Good," Dexter grinned, "I've been wanting to do this forever." He lifted Saracen off of his feet and carried him to the bed and dropped him onto it. Dexter climbed onto the bed and slid beneath Saracen's legs, which were entangled with the dress' multi-layers of skirts. His hands were on Saracen's body again, traveling up his legs and waist. He leaned down to press his lips to Saracen's, slipping his tongue into his mouth. Saracen tasted good. He carried his kisses across Saracen's jaw and down his neck, eventually he reached Saracen's chest, sucking on his nipples. Saracen trembled beneath the weight of his body. His legs were hooked around Dexter's back, and his arms gripped Dexter's shoulders, grasping him as tightly as possible, trying to bite back his moans.

But as Dexter reached up his skirts, his hands finding Saracen's underwear and pulling it down, he couldn't hold it back anymore. Dexter, pleased, started to go harder; he rolled Saracen onto his stomach, gripping his waist tight enough to leave bruises; Dexter didn't realize how strong he really was.

He pulled Saracen's waist to his and slipped inside of him. Saracen cried out, both in pain and pleasure. He was hard before Dexter went into him, but Dexter became hard inside of him. Saracen gasped, and the harder Dexter went, the harder Saracen moaned; in a cycle, the harder Saracen moaned, the harder Dexter went, motivated by Saracen's show of pleasure. Tears were beginning to fall from Saracen's eyes.

"D-" Saracen groaned, on the brink of an orgasm, "Dexter, I'm-" He couldn't find the words, but Dexter understood. He came out and let Saracen roll onto his back, and reached down to blow him, sucking on his d!ck?. Saracen became a mess of gasps and moans and had to fight the innate urge to shut his legs. He lifted his waist, going deeper into Dexter's throat, and his hands, grasping Dexter's neck and head, pulled down, pinning Dexter there. Dexter didn't mind though and continued to go down on Saracen, blowing him until he climaxed. A loud moan escaped from Saracen's lips and he let go of Dexter, searching for something else to grip- the blanket or a bedpost. Dexter lay down beside Saracen and watched Saracen's chest heave, out-of-breath. Saracen turned himself to face Dexter and rested his head on his chest, still panting.