if i let it go i know i'll regret it ~ (closed...)

[attr="class","sya-text"] She was tired of the fighting, the back and forth, the petty arguments. Dallas, tired of fighting? To banter with someone she cared for was one thing, but even for a sadistic woman like herself, a death threat with every visit was a bit too much. Maybe? Or was she just too busy coming down off the high of their last encounter?

What would it be like, for one moment, if anger ceased to fuel their relationship, however sparing of one that was. Would there even be one left? Was he that opposed to human interaction that he could simply turn away when the fighting ran dry? Was she simply wasting her time?

She liked to hope not. The time spent with him was incredible, and every moment was one she’d never regret. But nonetheless she didn’t have time for feelings in her life. Not in her harsh career, and certainly not in what little social life she had. Then again, were they even feelings or was the woman simply latching onto and preying on a good hunk of meat because he’d agreed to help her? That seemed the more likely answer, especially for someone whose only true attachment was to her brother. But if this was only a primal claim on this man’s body, then why was she even thinking about it at all?

It had originated as nothing more than a way to pass the time, a way to have a little fun. One thing lead to another and soon she felt wrong without the man’s foul-self beside her. Like the man had given her a drug, and as it dissipated through her veins she now needed another fix. For such a while she’d felt as if she’d been on top, and perhaps at one point she was, but as of recently she could feel herself slipping. Had she ever truly been in control, or had it been him pulling on the puppet strings? Maybe this had all been his plan to begin with. Maybe he’d outwitted her and she’d become the one to suffer the consequences.

How is it that she could feel in control, yet completely out of it within his touch? A feeling that rendered her so incredibly helpless one might even think she’d given up. And maybe she had. Maybe internally she’d already waved her white flag, let her slender form become yet another puppet to be thrown around. One of them had to give, but surely she wasn’t the one to do it? The thought of rolling onto her back and whining like a dog made her sick. But apparently it did him as well. For a woman so domineering in terms of her own life, the feeling of potential vulnerability was unsettling, scary even. She was crashing hard. Who knew the asshole had become such a big part of her life, without even trying to?

So, maybe she was a bit worried. That whatever this was, might have been something scratching below the surface of her cold heart. He was the only one she wanted, or needed. But he was also one she needed to get far away from. This drug he’d cursed her with was addictive, dangerous, and one she needed to escape before she fell into its trap of dependence.

Easier said than done.

He wouldn’t give her the time of day if not to get what he wanted. She could say the same for herself. It was as if they were strangers except for the moment in which they fell into bed, closet, countertop, or floor, what have you. That’s what she’d wanted in the first place; no commitment, no jealousy. Yet as the day passed and she witnessed the other women in his life, a writhing pit of anger had begun in her, the little green snake that was envy. She was the only one that could do him justice, he knew it, yet he refused to acknowledge it, for a reason she had yet to understand. Was he just so damn nasty that he couldn’t keep his dick out of everyone and their mother’s pants, or was he just so ruined mentally that he didn’t give a fuck?

She’d reached a crossroads. And maybe that was where she was to stay, stuck in the middle of what she thought could be, and her chain to the ground that was denial. She was thinking too far into things, for once. Yes, that had to be it. The woman settled back against her silk sheets and pulled her blanket up over her head, as if the presence of darkness would help her to see things clearer. And, maybe it would.

She could sense her brother’s presence before she could actually hear him. Reluctantly she peeked over the edge of the comforter, sacrificing the sweet darkness to verify his whereabouts. Her eyes narrowed as she spotted him leaning in the doorway, having not even bothered to knock. His expression nearly mocked concern, yet his condescending smirk never left. But that she’d gotten used to. “Pouting again?” He queried.

“Nope.” She replied in a grumble, slinking further down into her blanket and welcoming the shadows she found there. Her eyelids slid closed over dilated pupils as she silently willed her brother to leave, but unfortunately for her he only came closer. Soon she felt his weight sink into the side of the bed as he sat down, prompting her to lower her blanket again. “Looks to me like you are. Or maybe just hungover?”

“Fuck off.” A smirk crawled its way upon pouting lips, and she kicked at his side through the blanket, to which she soon found him firmly gripping her ankle. “If I’m hungover, what’s your excuse?” She lost her train of thought soon enough as she tried to pull her foot from his grasp. “So then you are pouting.” He released her and she tugged the blankets back over her head, longing for the serenity the darkness brought. “Hard to pout if you don’t have anything to pout over.” She countered seamlessly. The woman could only imagine the eye roll she received. “You’ve been like this since I got back. Don’t tell me you’re going soft now?”

“’Bout as soft as your thick skull. Excuse me for being concerned.” It seemed as though her peace was not to be had, so she eventually relented to sitting up. Blinking away the blissful moments of shadow, she noticed the Doberman pincsers at the foot of her bed, and she called one of them to lay by her side. Quietly she wrapped her arms about the slender animal and drug a thumb across its sleek coat. “Damn, if I’d have known you’d go all emotional I’d have disappeared years ago.” The man snorted. “You’re so damn easy to manipulate when you’re like this. What’d he do this time, send you flowers? Give you a sappy poem?” Now as he flashed a taunting smile at her, she snarled vehemently. “Go to hell. What did you expect me to do?! You left me here with him! All for what, a piece of ass? Now that’s just low, Ty.” She easily flipped the conversation back on him, and could sense his hesitation towards talking about the subject of his capture.

Now glowering like the flip of a switch, she turned away from her brother and peered out of the window of their luxurious home, which overlooked a balcony. “You left me, and I didn’t have anyone else to turn to.” Was that bitterness in her tone? As her doe eyes flicked over to him, she realized the male was scratching his stubbly jaw, perhaps guiltily, but she knew damn well he didn’t regret a single thing he’d done. “It wasn’t as if I had a choice.” His voice grew even, taut, and it was in this moment she realized she’d hit a nerve in the man. Embarrassment, regret, or perhaps some deeper, more complex feeling that neither of them seemed to understand. “Then you know exactly where I’m coming from.”

notes; so i got bored. 
tag; noonecares, but mentioning Asher Thomas
words; 1350
muse;