Disclaimer: I sadly do not own American Horror Story nor any of its characters.
Well, this is my first ever American Horror Story fic and I have to say I'm quite excited. There are more and more stories added everyday and I thought it was about time I start writing. This story is definitely based off of listening to way too much Two Door Cinema Club because I can't help but connect all their lyrics to AHS (cough Undercover Martyn cough). Anyways, I hope you enjoy. I'm not sure if this will be a one-shot or short but multi-chaptered. What do you think? ;)
Update: Wow, I am sorry! There were a TON of grammatical errors in here before. Note to self: Do not write at four thirty in the morning. Haha. Sorry, I guess I was slightly delirious. I'll make sure to triple proofread next time.
He reached out and caressed her knee, the skirt of her dress exposing her soft skin. She begged her body not to react to his touch, not to give in. She hated feeling helpless and being unable to control her body but his touch was so infectious. Her heartbeat rose immensely and a shiver was sent down her spine. His fingers danced along the curve of her knee, each touch more painful than the last. She was afraid to look up and see that stupid smirk that she loved upon his face so she starred at his moving hand. He teased her by moving just underneath the hemline of her dress, his fingers disappearing under the floral pattern. His fingers were ice cold and calloused compared to her body burning with heat and longing. She felt as if she were holding her breath, unable to trust herself to make any actions whatsoever.
"Violet," he whispered, knocking her out of her comatose state. She wanted to smack him and jump his bones at the same time. She knew that he was trying to get her to look into his eyes, to see the hypnotic effect he had on her. His grin would get even bigger and Violet would lose the game of cat and mouse. She refused to look up, closing her eyes and breathing in long shaky breaths.
"Violet," he said again. This time there was a cockiness to his tone, a smile in his voice. "What's the matter?" He had moved closer and she could feel his breath along her neck. "You seem…" He hand jumped onto her inner thigh making her shiver. Shit, she thought to herself. She was mere seconds away from losing. One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi…
"Tense," he finished, her eyes opened wide, starring into his face mere inches away. She tried starring at his tangled blonde hair or his strong jaw line but she couldn't help but stare into those eyes.
"Boo," he whispered before attacking her.
Violet woke, shooting upright in her bed. Her breathing was ragged and her body slightly shaking. "Fuck," she mumbled to herself. She wasn't sure what was worse, the dream or how she felt after waking up.
She didn't dare look into the dark corners of her room, fearing that a certain someone was watching her from a distance. She didn't want him to see her so defenseless, so wanting of him. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," she said to herself, slightly louder this time. She could of definitely used a cigarette or two right now to shake off the rage burning inside her but she couldn't will herself to get up. She felt glued to the bed, and not just because the sheets stuck to her sweat soaked skin.
She wanted to do anything, anything but sit in the daunting silence. She shivered, a chill sent throughout her whole body. She looked to her left and noticed the open window in her room, blaming that rather than her dream. She slowly lifted the covers from her bare legs and walked over to the window. She didn't dare look back as she closed it, her eyes close, her body stiff. She let out a breath of relief once it was closed, looking out at the dimly lit street. Outside looked so peaceful, so serene. It was like admiring a painting or a mural. So beautiful. The world only truly looked beautiful at night. Any other time of the day it was occupied by assholes and petty bullshit.
She held her breath for a moment, hearing sounds of one another. A short breath sounded in the silence, one not of her own. She gulped, frozen at the window. Turn around. Those two words repeated over and over inside her head, begging her. Shit Violet, just turn. She slowly turned her right foot, her body silently moving with it. She spun around and slowly started to feel herself asphyxiate. She starred at the black figure standing at her door, it's still body watching her.
She took a deep breath and said, "I know you're there". She crossed her arms over her chest, taking a defensive stance. "You're not getting any brownie points for just standing there like a total creep".
The black figure stepped forward, his bare feet exposed by the light shinning through the window. His face was still cloaked in darkness, his identity hidden.
"Well I suggest you get this show on the road and start talking because I'd like to go to bed," she said, rolling her eyes. She hid the slight fear rolling through her body in her sarcasm. She never backed down to a fight. At least not yet.
"Polka dots, huh?" The figure spoke, a chuckle in his voice. She looked down and cursed herself for sleeping so exposed. All she wore was a snug, navy blue camisole that, at the moment, was resting just above her navel. Her polka-dotted underwear rested on her hips, baring her legs for the world to see.
"Well I really don't expect an audience when I'm sleeping you know. Ever hear the concept of privacy?" she retorted.
"I'm not very keen on it," he said, stepping forward. She looked up slowly from his bare feet, to his ripped jeans, to a red sweater, and finally his face. His stupid, sarcastic, wonderful face.
"Well, I like them," he smirked, stepping closer yet again, making the space between them smaller and smaller.
"I'm sure you do," she replied, giving a brash look. He moved closer until he was only a few steps away from her. She could hear his quiet breathing and shivered once again, except this time the window was closed.
"I find them… quite flattering."
"How very," she said, giving him a sarcastic smile. "Now if you done, I have sleeping to do. Not all of us are stalking creatures of the night."
"I beg to differ," he chuckled, moving once again closer so they were practically face to face. "And from the sounds I heard before, I don't think there was much sleeping involved."
The smirk on her face dropped for a mere second before she regained composure. So he had been here the whole time. Fuck, fuck, fuck. "I don't know what you're talking about," she quickly replied back.
"I'm pretty sure you do," he said, his hands slowly touching her bare skin, the curve of her waist. His hands were ice cold just like in her dream and she was sure she was still burning from before. His hands slowly moved up and down her side, finally resting on her hip, right before the elastic band of polka dots.
He leaned in, close to her neck, breathing in her aroma of vanilla and cigarettes. His mouth was centimeters away from her ear when he whispered, "Mmm".
She shivered, her whole body shaking. His hands moved upwards, his thumb playing with the hemline of her camisole. It swam in and out of the fabric, teasing and teasing and teasing. It was her dream all over again but this time it was much, much worse.
"So tell me," he said, slipping his hand fully under the shirt, "what happens in this wet dream of yours?" A smirk played upon his face, his hands snaking along the side of her torso.
"It wasn't a wet dream," she mumbled, looking down at her red painted toes. She was slowly losing all the power she had while Tate kept gaining more and more.
"Are you sure?" One hand left her shirt and dipped down to back of her leg, his fingers curving around, touching her inner thigh. "It feels like a wet dream to me," he whispered into her ear.
She let out a shaky breath, feeling as if her knees were about to buckle underneath her. "So what did I do to you in this dream?" he said, slyly.
"Who said you were in it?" she quipped back, quietly.
"So it was a wet dream," he smirked. He stepped even closer, his body now touching hers. He could feel the heat radiating off her body, the slight shakiness in her movements.
"Did I do this?" he asked, slipping his fingers under her damp underwear. She gulped back any sounds that dared to come out. She was having a hard time controlling her breathing and felt as if she were going to lose all control any minute.
"I heard you moan," he whispered, the exaggeration of the mere word making her lose her breath. "You tossed and turned in delight." She closed her eyes.
"You said my name."
"Violet," he said. "Open your eyes."
She slowly lifted her eyelids, starring into his eyes. His pupils were fully dilated as were hers. A smirk danced upon his face as he watched her.
"Boo," he whispered, before leaning in, placing his mouth atop hers.