Helter Skelter Romance

The entire situation that Dexter found himself in had been caused by a man whom he had so fondly thought of for so many long nights. He idolized him as a hero, admiring his skills and even finding himself sexually aroused by his work. It had recently been brought to his attention that this man, the ‘Ken’ to his ‘Barbie, was actually his flesh and blood brother.

He wasn’t bothered by that or by the fact that Rudy, Brian actually, as the name had been false, had been engaged to his younger foster-sister. When he briefly took the time to think about it, he thought that he would have actually really enjoyed having him as a brother-in-law, but that couldn’t be because he had screwed up.

Brian had been wanton, downright sluttish, in his blatant taunting of the police force and greedy in his bloodlust. He hadn’t been nearly disciplined enough to control himself at the very end with such a beautiful woman laid before him, even with the knife being tugged from his hand… and that upset Dexter.

He had admitted, no, he had gloated about being the Ice Truck Killer only minutes after going down on his knees for Debra. Dexter wondered how she hadn’t she tasted the menthol on his breath all the other times when they kissed, hadn’t noticed the collection of prosthetics he kept on display. How had she not seen the desire in his eyes when she talked about the crime-scenes? But even then, the admission of his crimes weren’t the worst of his actions. He had admitted to the murders and torture, and then attempted to kill Debra, unable to hold back any longer.

If only he hadn’t asked for the hand of his sister, if he had just admitted his desire to be ‘in the family’ was born of his real need to be allowed back into. He could have told Dexter openly, he didn’t have to seek the approval of his kills from him. Together, if only Brian had thought to ask him first, they could have found a better victim to share. They could have found one they both enjoyed; a young athletic social worker who had abused her position. That would have satisfied them both. Brian and he could have shared their memories of past heartbreak as they worked their craft on her thrashing body. Dexter could have taken his slide of blood first and then Brian could have cut her into his neat precise little pieces.

He would be near impossible to hide now, he had seen to that with his lust and his passion. He was an actompohiliac Dehlila with uncontrollably vampiric desires. And all of the thoughts of the chances they could have had were running wild through the younger man’s mind when he stared down at his older brother. He still wanted them.

Brian’s trembling form was held tightly with the black leather straps and then rewrapped with plastic to the cold metal butchering bed, the one he had been so fond of. His eyelashes were fluttering slightly against his cool cheeks and he groaned softly, sensually, as he began to regain consciousness. Dexter was scared in that moment, truly scared, as he’d never been before. He hadn’t wanted to see those warm melted chocolate eyes look at him now, not now, when he was going to end all their chances.

His cracked, blood stained lips were moving without making any sound, whispering and gasping to nothing and his pupils were out of focus as his eyes rolled softly– still drugged – but he wasn’t sleeping anymore. Brian was fairly thin in the face which had made his cheeks look elegant at any other times, and he was just a little too thin around his joints, maybe because he liked to feel the bone there. But tonight, instead of handsome and unique, it just made him look physically sick and terribly human. That play of bone pressing desperately against the skin at his hips, reminded Dexter of heroine addiction and of skeletons and he cleared his throat very shortly before he spoke. “I didn’t mean for you to wake up.” He admitted.

Brian spoke then in response and his voice was cracking so much that it even sounded painful. One of his goddamned lozenges would have helped, Dexter mused, and he could actually smell the hot painfully sweet scent though it didn’t really linger on his…friend’s breath. “Well, I did.” He had pointed out for what it was worth.

He didn’t look frightened by his bonds or even angry to be held down to his own killing table; instead he looked up at his brother with purely a look of acceptance. Something that Dexter had never had happen in his life, certainly not with such real true understanding coming through. Harry had tried to help him but he never understood nor accepted when he saw a monster inside of a boy. Brian knew that he was the monster, not the boy, and he wanted to nurture its growth.

“I could give you more tranquilizers.” Dexter offered with a strategic cough, he was feeling, really feeling, wrong to be doing this. He wasn’t enjoying his reign of terror this time and just days ago, hours ago, he wouldn’t have ever imagined making such a suggestion to anyone. But this wasn’t right at all; it felt awkward and uncomfortable, painful even, not fluid and enveloping like warm hot blood. He didn’t want to have those knowing eyes keep watching him now, not in his one true moment of hurt.

Brian swallowed slowly as he watched the internal struggle; trying to collect enough saliva in his mouth to do so, because The Ice Truck killer was ironically anemic. “No. Thanks for the offer, though; I’m sure some of your playmates would have appreciated it.” He declined, with all of his characteristic coolness and charm. He wanted his last few moments with his sibling to really be with him; he didn’t want to pass on to darkness within the darkness. He wanted to revel in his brief exposure to light.

“I don’t make the offer to them.” The younger of them clarified; because he knew even now he wanted approval from the other killer. He was holding the second drug-filled hypodermic syringe in his hand by this point but he lowered it down to the table again when he saw that his brother, his…friend didn’t want it. A tingle went through Dexter as he listened to that calm breathing, one that pushed on him so many things that he had rarely felt; they were a mixture of fear and guilt. He didn’t feel like this normally when he killed.

He picked up his knife, there wasn’t a wave of enjoyment in that motion like usual, no arousal of any sense. A heavy sigh escaped his lips and he turned to face Brian with a shrug of his shoulders, hi s head hung to avoid that warm gaze. “I’m the only one for you in the world, Dexter,” That nagging reminder came, the one Dexter couldn’t help but wish wasn’t true.

“The only person who is really willing love you and understand you…the real you. I want you free.” Brian whispered to his saddened comrade; he wanted him to know that there was still love and affection for him. There was a heavy moment of silence where tears fell and then Dexter moved, fast. Brian could hear his precious sibling whispering comforting and apologetic words as pain washed through him; it reminded him of their mother. He could feel that his pants were hot and damp; his own voice was gasping, sputtering and then screaming in shock from the agony. And then the world was going black while all through out it that soft tender hushing surrounded him.