This is quite a bit darker than my usual fare, though hopefully an interesting foray. This is rated for sexual themes, though it doesn't really show anything. I rated for safety and to cover my ass just in case. (And now is rated for my cursing. Oops.)
As always, reviews are encouraged and accepted (With a hug and a cupcake!) but not required. Enjoy!
Toxic
Toxic.
That's what she is.
Toxic.
Poisonous.
Venomous. And a whole slew of other words that you can't think of right now. Because you're way too busy. She's standing there with that look on her face. With that glint in her eye. That sly grin on her lips. The one that she knows you can't resist. She's toxic, and you know it. But you can't stop yourself. Why the hell did you give her that key?
You stand.
Hasn't it always been like this? The answer is no, but you try not to think about that as she almost glides toward you, looking like a fallen angel, both beautiful on terrible, in the light of the setting sun. There was a time when it wasn't like this. You long for that time and also push it as far back in your mind as possible. Because when it drifts to the surface of the dead sea of your mind, it's impossible not to make comparisons. It's like a knife to the heart. And in a way, it is.
But you try not to think about that, as she reaches you and pushes you, gently but forcefully, into the chair again. You roll a few inches backward, but with delicate fingers, she pulls you foreword.
So many years ago, so many now, it was a real relationship. Maybe it was just a crush. Maybe it was more. Whatever it was…it was real. You loved her, and she loved you. Or you liked to think she did. She never said. But you were together.
She climbs onto your lap and straddles you. She moves foreword with an almost dream-like quality, tilting her head to the side ever so slightly, green eyes ablaze.
And then, you weren't.
You turn your head to the side as you remember. As the heartache returns. She retreats slightly and frowns, but after a moment it disappears and is replaced by a seductive smile. Determined. Pleased at the sudden challenge.
But you didn't stop loving her. You couldn't. It was as if, once they severed the relationship, she kept his heart. Locked away in her coffin. You loved her unconditionally, and it hurt. Oh God, it hurt. You loved her, and she knew it. She knew it well.
She moves foreword again, decisively, and captures your lips with her's before you have a chance to move away. She has you, and she knows it. Against all better instinct, you pull her closer, deepening the kiss, and your self-loathing. Oh God.
You never did have another real, true relationship after her. There were relationships. Tons of them. Short quick ones with whackos that ravaged your good credit and spoiled brats who demanded the world. But mostly nice ones, with normal women. Sweet, smart, good people who deserved more than what you could give. Because your heart still was held by another. And the relationships fell slowly apart, atrophying and decaying until they collapsed under the weight of their own undelivered promises and empty 'I love you's.
You are brought back by the sudden wetness on your cheek. You part for a second and you bring curious fingers to the moisture. A tear. The drop glints red in the dying embers of the sun as it descends below the horizon. You stare at the teardrop until she roughly kisses you again. And you're lost.
o*o
"It's okay, Tim. We're friends. Just friends." She assured him warmly and gathers other articles of clothing off the ground. "It's just uncomplicated sex. No strings attached. It's easier that way, Timmy. No one will get hurt." She turned back to him before leaving the bedroom. "You're okay with that, right?" She flashed him a bright, easy smile that contained hints of what could come.
"I…Abby…" He replied and hesitated. She gave him an expectant look, head tilted adorably to the side, disappointment just a second away. "I'm okay with that. It…it's fine." She flashed him a grin and left. He felt a needle jab blindly into his heart and slowly inject poison into his veins. It hurts.
o*o
She undoes the buttons on your shirt. One at a time. Slowly, agonizingly. They make a small clicking sound as the clear plastic of the buttons connect with her fingernails and are threaded out of the holes. One at a time. Each click is like a gunshot wound. Like another shot of poison into your body. It's killing you. But like always, she holds your heart, and you can't stop yourself. You can't resist.
It's killing you. She's blind. So blind. She smiles when she kisses you, flashes you that sly, sexy smile that holds the joy of their secret affair. The rush. And you smiles back…because you can't do anything else. You've fallen into darkness, in possession of the thing you've wanted for so long, but at the same time, not. She's killing you. And she doesn't know it.
She tackles you back onto the bed, and you wonder how you got there. Not just into the bedroom (Though you wonder that too) but into this situation, this frame of mind. And you can't figure it out. She's hovering over you, black hair loose from pigtails and reaching toward you like plants toward the sun, the damned toward Heaven, the dead toward the living. But it's not like that at all, because in this situation, you're the plants, the dead, the damned. And it kills you. Oh, God. It kills you. She's breathing heavily, eyes bright in anticipation and worry. She asks you if you'd like to continue, if you're okay with it today.
She always asks.
You almost laugh every time. Because you already walk that path. You love her and you have her. But you don't. She loves you and she whispers it as she passes by at work. But she doesn't.
She always asks. And you always say yes.