Superfail! (aliaspiral) wrote,

Lost Fic: Selfish

Title: Selfish
Author: alianora (aliaspiral)
Rating: R
Pairing: Sha-Boone (hello hello again)
Summery: She hates that she likes it.
Warnings: Incest-y situations. Sexual content.

Thanks to literarylemming for loaning me a few lines, as well as offering suggestions. And, as always, thanks to sirkpega for beta'ing, offering suggestions, and generally being fabulous.

She hates that he loves her.

She hates that he wants her.

She hates that she likes it.

His eyes have followed her for years. At first, when they were young, it was like a big brother watching out for her.

And she hated being treated like a stupid little kid.

So she provoked him as often as she could. It was easy. She crossed the street against the light, shoplifted, drank, and got arrested.

He was always so furious when he came to get her. Which he always did, because he was her brother, and since her dad had died, it was his job. His face got red and he would tell her how stupid she was being, and she would tell him to fuck off.

It was fun.

The years went by though, and his anger became resigned. Instead of screaming at her, he would roll his eyes.

She was forced to go to more extreme measures to piss him off.

She started coming home at all hours, if she came in at all. When she did, she stank of alcohol and sex. And he waited up for her, pacing and yelling and demanding to know where she had been.

But it wasn’t until he “accidentally” walked in on her when she was on her knees in front of some guy that she saw it.

He wanted her.

It only flashed through his eyes for a second, but it was there. The heat was unmistakable.

And even while he was beating the crap out of the other guy and dragging her out to the car, she could feel it in the air.

He wanted her, and she hated it. And him.

And that pissed her off. So, she punished him.

Her skirts got shorter, her heels got higher. Her thoughtless comments got crueler and more suggestive.

She paraded around the house in nothing but her tiny nighties. She ordered him to bring her the phone while she was in the bathtub.

And he watched and he wanted and she hated it.

She would leave for weeks at a time, leaving nothing behind her but bitchy comments and a pair of silk panties for him to find, but she could still feel him watching her with lust in his eyes from miles away.

She would find the wrong guy in a bar or the gym or a party, and she would go home with him. And she would try and forget about the wanting.

When the guy asked about her family, she would roll her eyes and toss her hair and tell them her father was dead and her stepmother was evil and that she hated her brother.

She didn’t tell him that she dreamed of her brother watching her.

She didn’t tell him that she liked it.

Then, when things were falling apart, because the wrong guy was sick of her mouth or she was running out of money, she would call. And he would come running to save her, and she would pretend she appreciated it, and might even be nice to him for a day.

But then she would catch him watching her, and she would get angry and leave her bedroom door open while she undressed.

The heat would flash through his eyes, and she would glare at him standing in her doorway and shut the door in his face.

It had gotten worse they older they got, and the more she hated him. Because she liked knowing that he would always be there for her to slam the door in his face.

The last time, she had gone to a party and stayed out too late.

He was waiting when she stumbled in, but she didn’t see him.

She pulled the wrong guy towards her and told him all the things she was going to do to him. He was sucking on her nipple and had her thong half off when her brother finally said something.

She wondered, later, if he had been watching then too. If he had listened and imagined it was him standing there with her with his hand between her thighs.

But that was later.

He threw the wrong guy out, threatening to call the cops, and yanked her towards her bedroom while she cussed at him.

He left her standing in the middle of her bedroom screaming insults as he slammed the door behind him.

She was half naked and pissed and horny and she hated him more than she ever had.

So she kicked her thong off her ankle and tugged her shirt back into place, and stormed down the hall to tell him to fuck off and leave her alone.

But when she flung his door open, the heat was in his eyes and she liked it. And she hated him for it.

No matter what she did to punish him for it, he still watched her.

When she pulled her shirt over her head, she did it to really give him something to watch.

When she pushed him onto the bed, fumbling with the zipper of his jeans, she did it to get even.

When she felt his hands on her ass, and slapped them away, she did it to punish him.

When she hissed at the feeling of taking him inside her, she did it to be in control.

When she took her pleasure, slid off of him and walked out of the room naked, she did it because she hated him.

And when she got goose bumps from his eyes on her back, it didn't mean she liked it.

Tags: lost fic

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