I hadn't heard from him in days and it was beginning to have its usual effect. I tried feigning disinterest to myself but it wasn't working. It annoyed me that I cared. He was my employee and dispensable. No he wasn't, he was more than that. So much more. I hated to admit it but I needed him.
The feeling I got when he would sidle up behind me and so casually put his hand on the back of my neck, forcing my head down for no other purpose than to prove I would submit to him at any moment. It was thrilling and intoxicating and I craved the feel of the tense muscles in his hands while they held onto me, ready to snap my neck and send me into a helpless paralysis. Each time I could practically hear the thought drifting absently through his mind. Temptation that he could so easily force himself to resist. That's what he was trained for and what he was best at. Control. Always.
I tried to calm my mind. I never wanted to need the drugs again. The way Sebastian had looked at me when he found me. I was a crumpled heap in the corner of the room, sweat plastered to me. He looked at me like he had never seen anything so pathetic. I wanted to be out. I wanted to kill something with my bare hands but I knew I would mess it up. Seb never did, he was perfect every time. A swift, silent bullet and instant death. Unless otherwise directed where he knew just how to drag it out.
Perhaps I could check on my Sherly. I hadn't heard from him in a while and I was beginning to become restless with the invisible little dance we were playing with each other. Sherlock was so convinced I was around that he would unravel the non-existent problems. I was given credit for the deviance that wasn't mine. I had no complaints.
I hovered my thumb over the keyboard, trying to think of something villainous to send him when a hand suddenly covered over my own, including the phone, prying it from my grasp.
"I leave for three days and you're bored already," he sighed, his breath ghosting over my neck and sending a warm chill down my spine. He squeezed his hand tighter around mine and moved closer to me, placing a hand at my waist to pull me towards him. I practically melted into him as he rested his chin on top of my head, breathing deeply.
"You never said you would be home," I complained childishly.
"So," he growled lowly.
"I'd appreciate some notice," I drawled sarcastically and immediately regretted it when he released me in one movement.
"Seb," I called after him as he headed for the bathroom, his interest in me now forgotten. He didn't even glance around at me. He slammed the door dramatically and I heard the shower start. He made no reaction when I threw a vase at the bathroom door, smashing it into pieces. I wanted it to be him. I wanted to scream and scratch at him, to claw his eyes and stab him over and over with knives. I wanted him to fall in the shower and lay bleeding across the tiles, creating a beautiful scarlet pattern for me to swirl my toes in.
I hated him. I hate him so much that I can barely stand to contain it. He is nothing to me. He believes himself to be important and special to me but he should know he is replaceable. I could easily find another sniper. He should know his place, below me.
"Seb, open the door," I screamed in anger, kicking at the door in my designer shoes. He surprised me by opening it, half clad in a towel, revealing the scars across his muscled chest. I stared as the water droplets wove their way down his skin, disappearing into the region I was so desperate for.
His strong hands pulled me up by my shirt collar and the rough starched fabric cut into my throat as he swept his tongue across my bottom lip. He turned and threw me into the wall, holding me with one arm across my throat. I could barely breathe but I doubted it was due to the pressure on my throat.
He gave me one more lingering kiss and then pulled away, causing me to crumple to the floor in a heap.
"Follow me and I will beat the shit out of your smug little face," he called from the bedroom. I knew he wasn't joking so I stayed where he had left me, panting loudly.
I hate him.