Darling Dexter (i_fakeit) wrote in we_coexist, @ 2013-07-25 14:42:00 |
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Entry tags: | dexter morgan, zz:status complete |
Deciding (Narrative)
The kiss had done nothing for him sexually. Dexter didn't care about things like that. Neither his body nor his mind responded to it as a normal man might have. Though, Dexter was aware of how a normal man would have reacted. Red was a beautiful woman. Sensual. She had all the markers of what would be attractive to somebody else.
There had been, however, a reaction.
Her power tugged at him. She had given him a taste of what he had been before. The Dark Passenger delighted at what was felt there. Urged Dexter on. Encouraged more contact between the pair. Her darkness called to his. Her violence riled his needs. Deepened the hunger that he was already feeling.
It wasn't safe.
He knew he could very easily give in to her, to the Dark Passenger. He could be everything that he wanted to be. Deep, deep down, Dexter wanted to let go and see the blood. Let it flow. The self control he'd practiced for so long, however, held tight. He needed a lifeline. He needed something, or he was going to team up with this woman who wished nothing more than for him to be a destructive force within the City.
He would lose himself in her.
Already, he was slipping.
Dexter knew that he wouldn't tell Charlie of what he'd found. He would let Red and her partner kill the last Arkham employee. He would eagerly await seeing what they did. What they produced. He had warned her to do whatever it was she was going to do as soon as she could. Because the police currently had nothing. And once it was all over with, there would be no hope in finding anything. The case would go cold. He would pretend to be looking over the information given him, and he would pretend to find nothing new in any of it. He would give his expert opinions on what he saw there in the blood, and he would possibly give them more than they had, but it would never be enough to find the killers.
He had gone from wanting to help the police by either discovering clues that would aid them, or by ending the lives of the murderers himself to helping out on the other side of the line.
There was no chance, Dexter knew, that Red would bring him in to the circle on this one. Whomever she was working with currently - playing with, really - was the one who would finish the job. They were bonding, the two of them. Sharing an intimacy. Maybe one day Dexter would know who the other hands belonged to, and maybe one day he would even meet those hands face to face. For now, he would be kept out of it, and it had nothing to do with who he worked for. It had everything to do with how things had been done up until now. With only one name left to cross off, they would want their crescendo.