It had been exactly one year since she had banished him. Sent him away. Tore his lifeless heart from his chest and stomped all over it. The longest, most painful year he had been forced to live through in the Murder House. If you could call it 'living'.
Tate Langdon was the darkness. Rape, murder, lies, deceit. And Violet Harmon had finally come to realize this exactly one year ago.
"I used to think you were like me. You were attracted to the darkness. But Tate, you ARE the darkness."
The words cut him, ripped him open, made him bleed out his sins right in front of her. And then he was gone. Trapped in the depressing basement. Banished. She didn't want him. She loved him, but she would never be with him again. He said he'd wait forever. He would. But the darkness that was inside him ate away relentlessly. Rotted his insides. Dimmed the light that Violet had shown him, given him.
That light was burning out, quickly, the wax of the candle she lit for him had melted, leaving a tiny flame on the black wick, slowly tipping into the pool of melted wax. And Tate wasn't sure he had the power in him to stop it from falling in. Drowning.
In the beginning, he tried to stay away from her. Wanted to do whatever he had to do to keep his only ray of sunshine glowing. But even the sun in Violet's tortured soul was setting, and it stole away more hope from Tate every single day. The first few months were easy, he would stay in the basement, the thoughts he saved in his mind of his memories with her were enough to keep him sane. But the memories were fading, fluttering away into the darkness of the Murder House.
He finally gave into his darkness, his selfish desires. He would stand outside her bedroom door. It was still the place she spent nearly all of her time. Listening to music, sometimes Vivien would sit in there for hours, the two would talk about everything. Except him. Vivien had brought up the subject only once or twice over the past year, and each time Violet would refuse to speak on the subject of him. The only boy she had ever loved, ever let see into her soul.
The sound of her voice would bring tears to his eyes. Sometimes she, too, would cry. It wasn't fair, listening to her broken sobs through the thin wall. It made him want to die all over again. He just wanted to burst in, take her in his arms and make everything okay again. But things just didn't happen like that, and he knew.
Eventually, his needs overcame him. He would sit in the darkest corner of her room, late at night when she would sleep. Sleep was unnecessary to the lifeless, but it made the time pass, so she still did it a lot. Maybe even more than when she was alive. He would sit like a statue, silent and perfectly still. He couldn't risk letting her know he was there. Watching his beautiful angel sleep. At first, he only did it every so often. But as the darkness overcame him, it became nightly. It drove him crazy. How they could be so close, but still a universe between them. It wasn't fair. It made him angry.
Some nights the anger drove him mad. Insane. He would disappear into the basement and within seconds it was filled with the echo of his angered screams. His knuckles bled profusely as he beat the cement walls of his eternal cell. He would beat them for hours, his hands covered in blood and dirt. Red and black. He would rip his hair out, throw his chair around. And after he would fall onto the ground, his hands completely numb and black from the dried blood, he didn't feel better. He felt even worse. Everytime he let his anger control him, he only felt darker, more evil inside. He felt like the Tate he was before he met his Violet. Before the light came into his life.
Some nights, he'd be lucky enough to be sitting in her bedroom, and after a few hours she would stir. His black eyes watched her tiny frame under the covers and she shuffled.
The first time this happened, he was so terrified that she would notice him, that he sent himself to the basement. This was before the darkness began to consume him, however. Now, he almost wanted her to notice him. Almost.
It happened again a few weeks later. He watched silently as she shifted, and a small smile broke his stone demeanor. She sighed gently and it made his dead heart thump. She stopped moving momentarily and he frowned. He didn't know what he expected. If she saw him, she would surely only banish him away again and be more cautious next time. But she wasn't done moving.
Tate perked up silently at the sound of the quietest, most innocent moan he had ever heard leave her lips. His onyx eyes squinted to see what was moving under the covers. He stood up slowly in the dark corner, being sure that he was invisible. He watched as her hand slid down her body and entered into her panties which he knew were damp with her wetness. It made his cock twitch, just at the thought. He leered as she touched herself, her pink lips parting with the release of another moan. He swallowed hard, clenching his fists.
He hadn't seen her in this vulnerable state in over six months. He had thought about it so much, but to actually witness it again was unbelievable. The sounds leaving her mouth were driving him crazy, he could feel the darkness inside of him. He could hear it. It laughed at him, called him weak. He clenched his jaw and just continued to watch. Her small hand began moving faster, her moans more frequent. He felt himself growing behind the confines of his jeans, and he ached for her. Suddenly his whole body went frigid at a new sound that came from the beautiful creature on the bed.
"Tate," she whimpered as she arched her back into her own hand, making herself climax. She sighed hotly as she came down from her high, falling immediately back into her slumber.
"Fuck," Tate was in the basement now. His left hand supporting himself on the wall as his right hand was tending to a more important task. He breathed heavily as he stroked his rock hard length, the sound of Violet's voice playing over and over in his clouded mind. He stroked roughly, imagining it was her. Imagined that his hips were bucking against her, into her. Cumming inside of her, not on the dirty walls of the basement. He panted as he finished, releasing himself and sliding to the floor, quickly pulling his pants up.
It was the night Tate gave into his darkness. The candle inside of him burnt out. He lost the part that Violet loved. He gave in to himself.
After that night, Tate didn't try to be quite so cautious. He would walk freely through the house. Sometimes Violet would see him out of the corner of her eye, his shadow behind her on the walls of the Murder House. But he was never there. She could never turn around fast enough.
Violet couldn't stop thinking about him. She stayed away from everyone now, even her mother. Locked herself in her room and blasted her music, trying to get the thoughts out of her mind, but it was impossible. Especially in the dead of night, when her thoughts turned from missing him, to wanting him. Needing him. Craving him. Sometimes, she would even call out his name, part of her wanting him to hear her, to appear next to her and take her. Make her his own.
There were certain nights where Violet would wake up suddenly, shoot up in her bed and look around. She could feel someone watching her. But he wouldn't let her know. Knowing that she wanted him gave him a sense of victory. Success. His darkness loved it. Loved knowing that she desired him the way he'd been desiring her for so long. And it loved not giving her what she wanted. Making her suffer like he had been forced to do for so long.
It wasn't the Tate that Violet loved. The one that had broken her shell, made her vulnerable. It was the Tate that he had suppressed for so long, for her. For the girl he loved. The Tate she loved was still there. Inside somewhere, but lost in the darkness. He needed his light to find his way out again. But for now, his dark side wanted to have fun. Wanted to make her beg for him, cry out for him, bleed for him.
She was sleeping. He wasn't. He stood at the foot of her bed, waiting. An evil smirk was plastered on his face, his eyes darker than normal. His smirk turned into a grin when it happened. She began to moan softly and it was time for his fun to begin. He slowly strutted to the side of her bed, grabbing the covers and throwing them completely off the bed. She gasped and her eyes shot open. Her entire face burned red at the sight of him. He wasn't sure if it was from anger or embarrassment, but he didn't care, either.
"Hi," he spoke, his voice low, seductive. He sat on the bed, looking at her over his shoulder.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" she asked, trying to sound tough, although her voice shook in fear, excitement.
He chuckled, shrugging a bit. "Enjoying the show," he then turned so his face was only inches away from hers. He stared into her beautiful brown orbs, feeling his blood rush south. "Have been for a while now. The way you say my name, I love it." he grinned, standing up and pacing around her bed.
"I've been jerking off thinking about it for a year now," he spoke, a hint of anger lingering in his words. "Since it's the only action I get," he finished. Stopping on the opposite side of her bed, staring down at her. Towering over her. "But I noticed you were having the same problem," he muttered, reaching out and touching her soft face. Stroking it with his thumb.
Violet looked into his dark eyes. The little glimmer of light they had over a year ago had disappeared, they were solid black. It scared her, but it also fascinated her. Turned her on. He pulled his hand away and she shivered.
"You're such a little slut sometimes, Violet," he mumbled, followed by a chuckle that made her get wet. She opened her mouth to speak but the glare he gave her made her mouth instantly shut. "Don't." he ordered. Beginning to pace again. "When you touch yourself, the way you say my name," he smiled as he spoke. "It drives me crazy, you know? It makes me wanna fuck you so hard, you can't even imagine." he stated, running a hand through his blonde curls.
"But I stayed away. I left you alone. That's what you wanted, right?" he scoffed. "But not anymore. You want me. You want me to fuck you, to make you scream. The way you moan my name, I can tell. You dream about it, don't you, Vi?"
Suddenly he was next to her, his hot breath on her face, his eyes burning into her. He reached his hand down, between her thighs, feeling her hot wetness through her shorts. He smirked sexily. "I knew it," he teased, pushing her hair behind her ear. "I turn you on, Vi, don't deny it. Even now." he said, almost meanly.
"But I don't just wanna fuck you. I wanna hurt you. I want you to bleed." he said, his voice so low and evil, it made her shudder. He laughed. "Don't move." he demanded.
He slid her oversized shirt off her shoulder, running his fingers over her hot skin. He touched it with his lips, licked it. He then sunk his teeth into her, holding her arms down against her sides. She let out a whimper of pain, her body jolting at the sensation. He grinned against her skin, finally releasing it. He lapped at her blood, the stark contrast of it against her pale skin making him suddenly realize how uncomfortable his jeans had become. She breathed heavily and looked down at the wound, swallowing hard.
Tate felt something twist inside of his stomach when she finally looked into his eyes. He knew what it was and he quickly shook it off. He needed to do this.
He pushed her down on the bed and crawled on top of her, looming over her. She looked up at him, fear clear on her features. He leaned down and licked her ear before speaking.
"Is this what you want, Violet? Do you want me?" he asked, breath heavy on her ear, giving her goosebumps. He reached down between them, rubbing her through her shorts. She bit her lip, trying to hold in a moan. He pushed his fingers harder against her, forcing her to release the sound. His body shook at the sound and he grinned.
She shook her head, shutting her eyes tight. "Don't lie to me!" he said angrily. He took her wrists in one hand and pinned them down above her. He took his free hand and slid it up her shirt. His hand burned against her skin, her face turned pink. He cupped one of her breasts, brushing his thumb over her nipple. She whimpered. "Look at me, Violet,"
She opened her round eyes, slowly looking up into his menacing black orbs. "Tell me, Violet," he whispered huskily, "Tell me that you want me, that you dream about me fucking you every night." She swallowed and her gaze drifted. "Say it." he demanded through gritted teeth. He squeezed her nipple tightly, repeating the action on her neglected breast. She moaned and arched up. He smirked and took his hand away, placing it on the bed to support himself.
"If you want me, all you have to do is tell me. I'll fuck you right now. I'll fuck you so good, Violet. You know I will." he promised. Her body was aching for him, craving his touch, and she gave in. She couldn't deny him, he was everything she wanted, even now. Even after the darkness had consumed him.
"I want you, Tate, so bad," she mustered, her cheeks burning. "You're right.. I dream about you every night.." "About what? What do I do to you?" he questioned darkly. She inhaled a shaky breath before continuing, "About you.. fucking me, touching me." she whispered.
He grinned and reached down, palming himself through his jeans as he imagined the things she just spoke of. "I knew it," he spoke proudly. He leaned down to tend to her wound again, the blood and surely stained her sheets by now, he smirked at the thought. He then tore her shirt off, making her gasp. He chuckled and pulled it out from under her. He sat up slightly, tying it around her wrists and then to her iron headboard. She shivered, realizing that she was now exposed to him.
He sat back, staring at his prize. He shifted so he was in between her legs, spreading them apart. He ran his large hands down her sides, then back up to her breasts. He leaned down and took one of her hardened nubs into his hot mouth, sucking on it roughly. She whimpered, wiggling underneath him. He grabbed her side, holding her down. He then moved to her other nipple, sucking on it. She moaned softly, and he stopped. She whimpered at the loss of sensation. Her body was burning, she'd been imagining this night for so many months.
He reached down and pulled his sweatshirt off, dropping it on the floor. Her eyes scanned his chest. She wanted to reach out and touch it, kiss it. But he obviously wouldn't let her do that. He grinned knowingly. "You want to touch me?" he asked seductively, and she nodded without hesitation. She wasn't going to lie. She hoped he would actually let her. He chuckled and shook his head. "Not yet."
He began licking his way down her stomach, slowly moving to her side, the one opposite of her bleeding shoulder. He licked her pale skin, and then licked his lips before sinking his teeth into her once again, drawing more blood. She cried out in pain, her legs shifted around him, he held them down. He licked the wound before sitting up again. The sight of her blood on his lips made her so hot, and he knew. He licked the blood from his lips before continuing his travel down her body. He snuck his fingertips under the elastic band of her shorts, before repeating his earlier action and tore them off. She gasped. He chuckled again, the sound made her shiver everytime.
He scooted down farther, so his face was right above her wetness. He breathed hotly on it, and he watched her panties get wetter. "You love this, don't you?" he laughed, tracing his fingers down her thighs. She stared at him intently, waiting. He was right. But she didn't need to answer because he knew. He always knew. He smiled before tearing the last piece of her clothing off. She was gorgeous. And he felt the same feeling in his stomach again. The feeling he got when he first met her. He ignored it and continued his task.
He licked her thighs, before sinking his teeth into her flesh one last time. It was the best spot, her skin was so soft and milky white, it made his cock twitch. She cringed at the pain, but was used to it now. She deserved it, she had decided. He smiled, licking his lips before looking up at his lover's face. The look in his eyes made her whimper, and in a blink his tongue was on her hot, wet flesh. Tasting her, licking her. She cried out immediately. He smiled. He flicked his tongue over her clit, slow at first and then picked up speed, making her moan. He grinned and stopped abruptly. She let out a sound of desperation. "Beg for it," he told her, an evil smirk that matched the look in his eyes spread on his face. She had given up. She would do whatever he wanted at this point. She needed him.
"Please. Please, Tate. It feels so good," she pleaded. He just smiled. She didn't. "Please, Tate! I want it, please!" she begged, and the sound of it drove him wild. He leaned down again, plunging his tongue inside of her. He thrusted quickly, making her moan his name over and over again. His cock was pulsing, hot. He released one of her thighs to rub her clit with his thumb, making her scream. Her hips bucked up against him, and he used his other hand to pin them to the bed. He removed his tongue and began licking and sucking on her clit, her body writhing at his touch. "Fuck, oh Tate," she gasped, and then he stopped.
She moaned exasperatedly, but she quickly regretted it. He slapped her thigh where he had earlier bitten, and she whimpered. He grinned. He stood up momentarily, removing his too-tight jeans, leaving him in his plaid boxers. The sight of him almost made her drool. He looked delicious, her hips involuntarily bucked up again. He chuckled, crawling back between her legs. "Do you wanna touch me, Vi?" he asked and she nodded.
He grinned and untied only one of her hands, and she immediately reached for him. He shook his head. "You have to touch yourself, first." She blushed crimson. "Don't worry, I promise you can touch me after." he smirked and he could see her wheels turning. She shut her eyes tightly before reaching down her body. She closed her legs slightly, but he quickly pried them open again. She swallowed as she reached her destination. She timidly began rubbing her swollen clit, causing her to moan. He palmed himself through his boxers as he watched. It was the hottest thing he'd ever seen. It didn't take long before he could see that she was close, so he grabbed her wrist, forcing her to stop. She bit her lip to hold back a sound, and slowly opened her eyes. He took her hand and brought it to his lips, sucking the taste of her off of her fingers. He then smirked at her as he took her hand and ran it down his chest, stopping at the waistband of his boxers. He then leaned forward and tied her wrist again. The feeling was in his stomach again when he looked down at her flushed face, and he so badly wanted to kiss her. But he wouldn't. Not now.
He leaned back and removed his boxers, and she moaned at the sight of his long, hard cock. He grinned. "Tell me what you want," he commanded, placing his hands on either side of her head, his body hovering above hers, but not touching her.
"I want you," she whispered, her eyes beginning to water. The feeling was back, stronger this time. It made him angry. "Want me to what?" his teeth were gritted, his eyes burning with lust.
"Fuck me,"
That was it. He grabbed her hip and shoved himself inside of her, all the way to the hilt. He threw his head back in ecstasy, releasing a low groan. She cried out, feeling him tear her apart from the inside out. He began to thrust quickly, pulling himself out of her and slamming in as hard as he could, making her scream every time. Her hands pulled at her restraints, making her wrists raw and red. She called out his name as he fucked her, moaned it, screamed it. It only encouraged him.
He dug his nails into her hip as he pumped into her, his breathing heavy. He rested his head on her chest and watched as her breasts moved with him. He grinned to himself. He lifted his head up to watch her face. Her lips were parted and releasing the most beautiful noises he'd ever heard.
"Say my name," his voice was hoarse, it made her body shake. "Say it," he stopped thrusting, staying still inside of her. She could feel his cock throbbing.
"Tate," she gasped, her hands balled into fists.
He pulled out and slammed back in. She screamed.
"Again,"
"Tate, please," she begged, arching up against him. He moaned, slamming into her again.
He continued to thrust, leaning down, his breath burning on her ear. "You're mine," he groaned, his hand nearly crushing her hip as he pounded into her. "I'm the only one that will ever make you scream like this," he promised, his hand slid from her hip to her clit, rubbing it roughly. She cried out his name in pleasure, pushing her head back into the pillow. "Fuck," he gasped, sitting up slightly, as she rocked her hips into his. "Cum, Violet. Now." he spoke, his voice deep. She moaned loudly, desperately, she rocked up against his hand as he rubbed her, and she screamed as she came, her walls so tight around his cock, it made his body shake. He continued to thrust roughly as her body shook beneath him. He could feel his orgasm in his stomach, along with the feeling that had been creeping into him all night long. He whimpered as his cock throbbed.
He looked into Violet's eyes and her mouth hung open. She looked directly back at him, her heart pounding.
"I love you, Tate," she whispered.
He blew up inside of her. Coating her insides. Marking her. He moaned her name loudly, his thrusts slowing. He dragged his nails down her thighs as he stopped moving, but staying inside of her. He breathed heavily, his muscular chest rising and falling. He pulled out of her, rolling off of her just in time to collapse on the bed next to her. He closed his eyes, and turned his head away from her. She laid silently, not knowing what to say.
He sighed heavily and sat up, turning towards her. He released her wrists from their prison and she sat up also, biting her lip. Her body was violated, bruises, bites. But she didn't care.
"Tate?" she asked timidly.
"What!" he shouted, looking away from her.
She frowned, feeling her eyes water up again. She got on her knees and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, burying her head in his neck.
"I love you," barely audible, but still heard.
He smiled, placing a hand on her arm.
The flame inside of him began to flicker once more.
Dim, but lit.