Almost Home
folder
1 through F › Dexter
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
5
Views:
6,500
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
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Currently Reading:
0
Category:
1 through F › Dexter
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
5
Views:
6,500
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Dexter or any of the characters within it. They are owned by Showtime and Jeff Lindsay. No money was made off of this story
Bridge Over Troubled Waters
A/N: Very short but this is going to lead up to something longer.
Dexter had never really noticed that relief felt so innately divine but it was one of those feelings that he couldn’t deny having experienced. After a satisfying killing, when his bloody den was nearly found by an unsuspecting man walking his over primped poodle there was that amazing feeling. When the murderer remained unfound and unharmed, he felt what was so simply called relief. Sometimes he wondered if other emotions would have been just as good. Because leaning over the body of one of the criminals in his state of relief and looking into the unseeing eyes that stared back at him; it was impossibly close to an orgasm.
But when he had waited for Debra to answer his pleas; just waiting for her to press a simple button on her phone it was not. The hours that he waited for her to answer his calls were more stressful than any of those moments of nearly being found for what he was, it was what Hell must have been like. It wouldn’t have been an orgasm he compared the feelings to when she finally answered the phone, voice soft and low like he had never heard, but it was one of his greatest reliefs. It was a sign of the continued existence of one of his favorite humans and that was something to be glad for.
Her words were slow and hesitant at first but they came out anyway, with pauses and then affirmations that she was alright. She sounded almost as if she was convincing herself more than convincing him and neither seemed to work. In that single moment of hearing his sister so broken, Dexter hated Rudy. He hated whoever could make his sister sound so meek and so fragile. She was so good at being strong that the thought of this weak whisper being her voice made his blood boil. But he listened to her words and jotted down the address she was giving him onto his notepad, handwriting sharp and neat.
“Deb, what happened?” Dexter finally demanded when she sighed softly at the other end; fear and frustration were working on his nerves again. He had been growing closer and closer to summoning the efforts of her colleges in finding her, even if it had destroyed him and now she didn’t even want to tell him why she had been so late. Something was out of sorts and if she thought he wouldn’t notice, she was wrong. He could hear his sister breathing heavily on the other side before she answered, he could hear her thinking without speaking. Finally he could hear the tears on her voice when she answered him. “Rudy and I are getting married, we just want you to be here to celebrate with us, big brother.”
Liar. Liar. Liar.
That wasn’t what she wanted to say, he knew her well enough that the hesitance in her tone was clear to him. He knew that the cracking of her voice wasn’t from sheer joy at the man of her dreams going down on a knee for her. There was something else there but she left it unsaid; left him to find out what was awaiting him at their so called celebration. She thought she was keeping the truth a secret; she thought that Dexter hadn’t found out yet. But he had connected the missing pieces while he waited for her. Her brother knew that she loved a beast but she didn’t know that he was one too.
He hated the long distance love affair he had built with the ice truck killer. He hated that now he knew all those nights why Rudy had been so nice to him and why he had touched him so tenderly when they embraced. He hated it because in the pit of his stomach he felt like it might have been something close to what other people call love. He hated that he wanted to fuck the person that had hurt his sister so badly. He hated that fucking him would have hurt her. But even worse, he hated that he still wanted to fuck him even knowing that. He longed for the knowing touch of another killer, to not have to play pretend.
Dexter couldn’t help but wonder if you were supposed to be able to hate someone you loved. He thought it seemed unlikely as he left the building. And as he typed the address into his GPS, he thought it was even more unlikely that most humans could comprehend the mixture of the emotions. He was going to have to find his sister and his long distance lover and he would find out soon just how much he could control himself.
Dexter had never really noticed that relief felt so innately divine but it was one of those feelings that he couldn’t deny having experienced. After a satisfying killing, when his bloody den was nearly found by an unsuspecting man walking his over primped poodle there was that amazing feeling. When the murderer remained unfound and unharmed, he felt what was so simply called relief. Sometimes he wondered if other emotions would have been just as good. Because leaning over the body of one of the criminals in his state of relief and looking into the unseeing eyes that stared back at him; it was impossibly close to an orgasm.
But when he had waited for Debra to answer his pleas; just waiting for her to press a simple button on her phone it was not. The hours that he waited for her to answer his calls were more stressful than any of those moments of nearly being found for what he was, it was what Hell must have been like. It wouldn’t have been an orgasm he compared the feelings to when she finally answered the phone, voice soft and low like he had never heard, but it was one of his greatest reliefs. It was a sign of the continued existence of one of his favorite humans and that was something to be glad for.
Her words were slow and hesitant at first but they came out anyway, with pauses and then affirmations that she was alright. She sounded almost as if she was convincing herself more than convincing him and neither seemed to work. In that single moment of hearing his sister so broken, Dexter hated Rudy. He hated whoever could make his sister sound so meek and so fragile. She was so good at being strong that the thought of this weak whisper being her voice made his blood boil. But he listened to her words and jotted down the address she was giving him onto his notepad, handwriting sharp and neat.
“Deb, what happened?” Dexter finally demanded when she sighed softly at the other end; fear and frustration were working on his nerves again. He had been growing closer and closer to summoning the efforts of her colleges in finding her, even if it had destroyed him and now she didn’t even want to tell him why she had been so late. Something was out of sorts and if she thought he wouldn’t notice, she was wrong. He could hear his sister breathing heavily on the other side before she answered, he could hear her thinking without speaking. Finally he could hear the tears on her voice when she answered him. “Rudy and I are getting married, we just want you to be here to celebrate with us, big brother.”
Liar. Liar. Liar.
That wasn’t what she wanted to say, he knew her well enough that the hesitance in her tone was clear to him. He knew that the cracking of her voice wasn’t from sheer joy at the man of her dreams going down on a knee for her. There was something else there but she left it unsaid; left him to find out what was awaiting him at their so called celebration. She thought she was keeping the truth a secret; she thought that Dexter hadn’t found out yet. But he had connected the missing pieces while he waited for her. Her brother knew that she loved a beast but she didn’t know that he was one too.
He hated the long distance love affair he had built with the ice truck killer. He hated that now he knew all those nights why Rudy had been so nice to him and why he had touched him so tenderly when they embraced. He hated it because in the pit of his stomach he felt like it might have been something close to what other people call love. He hated that he wanted to fuck the person that had hurt his sister so badly. He hated that fucking him would have hurt her. But even worse, he hated that he still wanted to fuck him even knowing that. He longed for the knowing touch of another killer, to not have to play pretend.
Dexter couldn’t help but wonder if you were supposed to be able to hate someone you loved. He thought it seemed unlikely as he left the building. And as he typed the address into his GPS, he thought it was even more unlikely that most humans could comprehend the mixture of the emotions. He was going to have to find his sister and his long distance lover and he would find out soon just how much he could control himself.