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Disclaimer: still not mine

Author's Note: The first three paragraphs were written for a drabble-challenge. Originally I didn't plan on continuing but I was bugged and then there was the idea and things kinda spiralled from there and... well, this is the result. Enjoy!



Perceptions


***
Hearing
***


Miss Parker leaned in close, blue eyes blazing with anger. "I know what you did, Bobby," she hissed.

He was in motion before her words had faded away, grabbing her shoulders and propelling her against the wall.

A startled look replaced the anger as his hands came up on either side of her head, his body close to hers and blocking off any escape. He leaned forward, his mouth against her ear. "Don't call me that again, sis," he whispered dangerously, feeling her shiver - due to the words or his breath on her skin, he didn't know.


From the corner of his eye, he could see her jaw muscle tightening. “Lyle,” she gritted out through clenched teeth; words meant to be a warning.

He grinned at her obvious discomfort. His eyes glinted darkly at the slight edge of… worry - panic? - that had crept into her voice; liking the effect he had on her.

Triumph mingled with something deeper, more primal. He knew what it was - had felt it before - and he let possessiveness rise in him.

Lyle barely held back the growl. He’d always wanted to possess her - that hadn’t changed with the knowledge of their connection.

“Don’t ever call me that again,” he repeated in a low voice, his lips still right next to her ear but not quite touching her when he spoke.

Again she shivered. Her hands went to his shoulders, clenching around them, “let go of me!” she snapped as she forcefully pushed him back, easily opening enough space for her to get past him.

Lyle let her go, laughing softly but just loudly enough for her to hear.

Walking away, she shot him a look over her shoulder and he caught her gaze, thrilled at the haunted look in them.

Lyle leaned against the wall with one shoulder, watching her go, still smiling darkly.


***
Sight
***


He watched her openly, a hint of a smirk playing at his lips. She was even more tense than usual - shoulders squared rigorously, jaw clenched shut and mouth drawn into a fine line of anger. Sitting opposite in the limo, all of her posture was screaming her reluctance to be in such close proximity to him.

Sometimes he just loved the lab rat for sending his cryptic hints, leaving them to chase after him.

Lyle snickered quietly, earning himself a quirked eyebrow from Sydney and a worried look from the tech. In contrast, his sister didn’t react openly, determinedly staring anywhere but at him - out of the window, watching the landscape blur by. Still, there was a reaction he could detect - a slight tensing all over.

Lyle smiled darkly and reorganized his legs, brushing his knees against hers and there it was again, that tensing as she shifted away.

He leaned back into his seat, thoroughly enjoying himself.


***
Smell
***


“He’s gone – again,” she growled in frustration, letting her gun sink down to her side.

Sydney stepped into the room behind them. “The Super said he must have just left. He saw Jarod only an hour ago.”

Lyle’s own gun already stored back in its holster, he stepped behind his sister, his hand on her wrist, inhaling deeply. “Indeed, I can still smell him,” he whispered provocatively. He then stepped back and turned around, giving orders to get everything packed up.

His attention had stayed long enough on his twin to witness her reaction, but he retreated before she could actually shoot him.

Once more he admired her strength, her determination not to show any of what she felt. It did nothing to defuse him, instead only added to his want to possess the woman, to make her his.


***
Touch
***


He looked around, easily spotting her in a booth at the far side of the bar, a stranger sitting opposite. She was clearly bored and obviously trying to get rid of him.

The thought that the lab rat might be sitting somewhere out there and watching her - as he was watching her now - made a dark expression appear on his face, something between a scowl and a grin. They wouldn’t get to have her – not the rat and certainly not that jerk currently flirting with her.

Lyle strolled over to Parker and the stranger, sinking down besides his sister, bringing them in contact from shoulder to knee.

She looked at him, boredom instantly replaced by shock. He returned her gaze. “Sorry, I’m late,” he said, reaching for her hand on the table, squeezing it once but not letting go afterwards, though she tried to draw back.

Lyle looked intently at the stranger, his eyes narrowing. Whatever the other man saw in his eyes, he stood up, making a quick retreat. Lyle smirked darkly.

“Lyle, what the hell?” she snapped when the other man was gone, sharply drawing her hand away. He could see the desire to slide away in her eyes, just as he could see the refusal to move away, to show weakness.

Another flash of want raced through him.

“Thought I could help you to get rid of the jerk,” he said easily. Leaning back while still watching her he saw the answer in her eyes as clearly as if she had actually spoken ‘getting rid of him and stuck with you in return’.

He just moved his thigh against hers in silent response.


***
Taste
***


She had tried to shake him off several times, only managing to heighten his enjoyment and determination.

He liked challenges and she was definitely one he refused to let go by. She’d tried to ignore him today, tried threatening him before, fought him whenever she could, but when he pushed her against the wall this time, she held still. There was something new in her eyes, something he couldn’t quite place.

“What do you want from me, Lyle?” she asked quietly.

He leaned in closer, listening to her not quite even breathing, looking into her eyes, smelling her perfume and feeling her slim frame under his fingers. “Don’t ask questions you know the answer to,” he whispered, bridging the remaining distance. His lips settled against hers, tasting on them the lingering flavor of alcohol as well as something purely her.

She didn’t fight him, not even when he deepened the kiss and his hands slid under her blouse. In that moment he knew what he’d seen in her eyes only seconds ago: acceptance

Directly on that realization’s heel followed the next: she was his.









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