"As I watch the breeze kissing your skin
Breathe it in
I never want this night to end
Right now I feel complete
The way the light flashes in your eyes when you're with me"
As Violet falls into a light slumber Tate stares at her features and appreciates how lucky he is. Everything about the beauty in front of him is perfection- from her whiskey colored eyes to the lustrous flaxen blonde locks that slightly wave from her roots. But perhaps his favorite thing about Violet is the soft moans she lets out as she sleeps with the sunlight adding sparkle to her pale skin.
However, although he does not regret what they had just shared at all, he is nervous for Violet's reaction once she awakens. After all, her view of him could change and categorize him to just like the rest of the douche-bag boys, as Violet likes to call them, she's been with. But Tate won't allow it- nothing is going to screw up his chances with the fascinating girl who lies asleep before him.
So, while she still lets out light snores, Tate begins to prepare another activity for the two since they have hours until curfew.
Once he's dressed in his clothes, he rummages through the house and stumbles upon a liquor cabinet. Luckily, the rich inhabitants, who vacation here during the summer months, stock up on wine like the world's running dry, so two bottles gone will hardly be noticed.
Putting the glass containers in the picnic basket, Tate thanks himself for packing plenty of food, because that workout he performed earlier really took all his energy. Violet sure loves to switch positions and work up a sweat, but he's glad because the other few girls he's been with only like it missionary style, which becomes boring and repetitive after a while.
Even the way Violet fucks is different than other girls- she's a Goddamn walking, talking angel meant only for Tate.
The sound of ruffling and yawning startle Tate until he realizes that it's only Violet waking up. As he warily walks over to the goddess, his hands become clammy and his muscles twitch. This is the moment that will make or break their relationship- what ever it may be now.
"Hello sleepy head," Tate murmurs as he hands her a cup of chamomile tea, her favorite he remembers her mentioning once.
"What time is it?" Violet calmly responds while blowing on the hot drink. The way she holds the cup with both hands reminds Tate of how not long ago those small fingers were wrapped around his cock.
"Only five twenty-six. We've got plenty of time left," Tate musters while trying to push those thoughts away. Surely he doesn't want Violet to think he only wants her for sex. Truthfully, neither of them is entirely sure what their status is, but they both also don't seem to care.
Tate admires how carefree Violet is- how she likes to go with the flow. And in fact, she's brought out the quality in that's been dormant for many years- finally, someone to evoke true happiness from his seemingly miserable soul.
As Tate studies Violet's appearance for the nth time today, Violet conjures up a plan.
So while Tate notices the tiny dimple that appears by each side of lip whenever she speaks or smirks, she stands up. And being taken by surprise, Tate stirs around until he manages to get on his feet; however, by then Violet has left the building and is now weaving through the trees.
Of course, Tate is chasing after her like a scared child who lost his mom, leaving the basket behind. He loves that Violet is so unpredictable, and sometimes carless, but it honestly scares him at times. But, like he's heard her say several times, Violet isn't afraid of anything.
Deep down, they both know she is- really everything terrifies her but she puts on a brave face because she knows the in the end she can only trust herself- or so she thinks.
Finally, three minutes and plenty of pants later, Tate catches up to Violet who is lying down on a rock. Once he sits himself next to her, he notices that she's staring up at the serene sky that is mixing between shades of tangerine and salmon while little specs of sunlight sparkle down on her, illuminating her eyes to a light, nearly clear, amber.
Tate can't help but note how he enjoys every inch of her body and hopes she feels the same. So, instead of waiting for an answer, he decides to initiate a conversation in hopes of insight into her mind.
"I've never felt more infinite."
After the words slip from his mouth, Violet rolls to her side with a slight smile, revealing the tiny, almost nonexistent, dips in her cheeks that Tate loves, and studies his complexion.
"Me either," she breathes out as she reaches her hand to his soft cheek- stubble completely absent from his face, just the way she likes it.
Anytime they make skin-to-skin contact, each of their nerves go wild. And Violet never knew what it was like to look at someone and smile for no reason, until she met Tate. The mere thought of being in his arms is enough to have a school girl-like grin spread across her face for hours.
So, missing the way she felt in his embrace, Violet snakes her hand to his and grasps it tight.
"The sky is so beautiful- even though we won't get to explore it all, I know every inch of it is purely amazing. Sort of like you." Violet lets out a thought so deep, so personal that she's almost taken back by her openness. She isn't one to be so affectionate but now she can't trust herself to abide by her former rules.
Instead of answering her, since he knows he can't come up with something half as good as she had, he plants his lips onto hers and enjoys the soft, velvety touch of her top lip that he's grown to know very well.
When Violet pokes her small tongue at his teeth, Tate immediately opens for her, and as the two tongues dance together, Tate enjoys her smell of grapefruit and slight sweat.
Eventually, after minutes of kissing mouths and necks, they part for air. And during that time, Violet becomes curious about Tate's childhood. Wanting to know where his problems seeded and why he is the man before he today.
Fumbling with her bracelet, she begins to formulate a question. "What was growing up like?"
Startled by the random, and vague, inquiry, Tate furrows his brows and stares out. What was his childhood like? And what should he tell her?
"Well it was actually pretty swell, until my mom caught my father cheating with our maid. I was like six years old. Then on it was hell. My mom would beat him, scream at him, and even embarrass him in public. But one thing she couldn't do was leave him. She's weak- a coward, and that, the cocksucker, was my role model."
The sudden cease of Tate's voice worries Violet, so much so that she sits up to make sure he's still alive. Upon noticing the slow rising of his chest, and his eyelids carefully shut, she stares at his resting face and admires the way his lips purse slightly as he attempts to relax.
"Tate?" she begins with a worried voice while slowly inching her hand towards his clothed chest. "My childhood was the opposite. It was so good, so perfect. But then they started fighting when I reached high school, a-and at first I thought it was just normal married couple stuff, but the arguments became more frequent- the battles more intense."
Violet allows a few tears roll down her warm cheeks while Tate's eyes are still closed but his hand is reaching for hers.
"How could they be so selfish? How could they be so careless? They brought me into this world. I didn't ask for anything for any of this!" she shouts and begins to sob. Tate knows that if he opens his eyes she'll feel vulnerable, weak, and even pathetic, so he keeps them closed until she pulls herself together. He only wants to make her happy and comfortable, forever.
"It's so obviously my fault. I-I mean, they could've been happy, stress-free, with out me as a burden. All I was to my father was an extra mouth to feed, an extra body to clothe. Just a damn, useless expense that couldn't even keep our family together."
Finally, Tate can't take it. Violet needs to know she's more than that- more than a mouth and money burner.
In one swift moment Tate sits up, wraps his toned arms around Violet's torso, and pulls her in. As she wallows in his arms, letting several tears spill from her hurting eyes, she almost feels like she belongs here. Like this moment was meant to lived by the two.
Then, for the second time that day, Violet kisses Tate. Only this time, it's slower and more tender. She even takes her time exploring his superb mouth, starting with his lower lip.
As she gently sucks it into her own mouth and rolls it with her lips, sparks fly up her body, being most active where they're connected.
Tate is enjoying Violet's new confidence very much so, and, in fact, is gaining his own. He demonstrates by poking his tongue to her teeth lightly until she opens a bit wider for him to fit, almost the same as she did with her legs an hour earlier.
Nothing has felt better for the two than when their tongues collide, eyes are shut, and hands intertwined. This feeling could solve any sickness, any heartache, and any problem either would ever have.
Unfortunately, Tate pulls apart, but only because he doesn't want to Violet to feel like that's all she's worth to him.
Something registers within Violet and it's almost like an eureka moment because a smile creeps onto her face as she squeezes Tate's hand.
"I'm ready to burn down all the wall I've been building up inside," she states while staring deeply into Tate's dark, almost anthracite, eyes. And this is one of his favorite moments with Violet because he knows when she says something she truly means it.
Violet isn't one for empty promises or brainless gossip- no, when she speaks something it has an importance, whether it be to let out her feelings or show others exactly what she means, there's always a reason by her words.
"I can trust you Tate, and I haven't been able to honestly say that about anyone in too long. I know you would never hurt me."
She finishes her confession with a tight hug and tucks her head into the crook of his neck. The mingled scent of his sweat and cologne is intoxicating Violet and could even make her do most anything.
So, Tate realizing the advantage he has, considers going for round two with Violet but decides not to in hopes of keeping her trust. However, he does lean back to admire her pale face and raspberry colored lips that are curved slightly upward as she wipes stray tears from her face.
But Tate quickly shoves her hand away so he can caress her damp cheeks and rub the salty water from her milky face, and then he tucks a strand of her silken, honey hair behind one ear.
Everything about her is beautiful- the way her dark lashes just barely kiss her cheeks when her eyelids are shut, or how her cognac eyes dilate to the size of the moon whenever she speaks of something she's passionate about. There's not one flaw about Violet Harmon- not even in here I-don't-give-a-fuck attitude. In fact, he adores it- the way she utterly does not care that people think he style is raggedy or old, or how she only puts on make up when she's alone or with Tate. She sees no reason to impress the pretentious, simpletons that lurk Briarcliff.
However, his thoughts, more like love sonnets, of Violet are interrupted when she presses her cold, smooth lips onto his. And just as they begin to move in sync, Violet remembers what it's like to be filled by Tate. The mere pleasure of completion or his adamant cock thrusting deep into her as she cries for more- begs for him to continue and never stop.
And just at the memory of Tate inside her she feels her cotton panties dampen and her legs spread just an inch, out of habit. Although she wants him to take her right then, she doesn't want to seem easy or sex-crazed so she holds back in hopes that he'll initiate something.
But to her dismay, he only kisses her lightly, with the occasional poke of his warm tongue, which she doesn't mind.
So a while later, when the two break apart, they realize sometime between Violet crying and the two locking lips, the sun has set and the sky became dark. But neither care because Tate lies down and Violet follows, laying her head on his thick, muscular chest, but before situating she pecks a kiss on his chapped lips and revels in his cherry Chapstick that she's grown to love in the past few hours.
"You know," Tate begins while fumbling with Violet's fingers, "I wish I could fly sometimes- to get away from it all- like birds. They're so damn lucky. They don't have to stay in once place if they don't want to," he confesses while pushing back the stinging feeling in his tear ducts. "I could've left the cocksucker and the adulterer. It would've been better- somewhere like Georgia, or even farther south, but I'm glad I didn't. I would endure it all again for you. No matter how much I want to fly away sometimes."
Meanwhile, Violet searches for the right words to say as she squeezes his hand tighter. However, Tate beats her to it.
"But not tonight- no. Today I'veneverfelt more infinite," Tate admits, for the second time, in an almost squeaky voice as the two gawk at the thousand stars burning in the sky up overhead.
Violet nods her head in agreement as they stare up at the sapphire and eggplant colored sky and count the twinkles until they've lost track.
A bit later Tate uses the little he learned in astronomy to point out basic constellations to Violet, who seems unimpressed because she's studied the sky like her life depended on it.
In fact, she pointed out some of the most difficult shapes to him, like Mensa. However, Tate eventually succeeds in gaining her approval by reciting She Walks In Beauty by Byron from his memory.
And once the duel for being the most talented is over, with a tie of course, Violet leans in to kiss Tate once again but as she lowers her delicate lips onto his he suddenly remembers Briarcliff and, more importantly, the curfew.
So, he quickly reaches for his phone, leaving Violet confused and saddened, to check the time as he prays it's not past eight.
But to his horror, it's nearly ten-thirty and the two still have to retrieve their belongings.
"Fuck!" Tate whisper-shouts as he stands up, lending his hand to Violet once on his feet.
"What?" she replies, slightly dejected, slightly afraid.
"It's ten-seventeen! We're so dead!" he answers, while grabbing her wrist so they can run to the cabin.
"Tate- I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have-"
"Violet," he mumbles as he stops in his tracks. "Don't ever blame yourself. You did nothing wrong- I did. Please don't worry. We'll sneak in. It'll be okay." He finishes his reassurance with a passionate kiss.
After all, if they're late they may as well end it with a bang.
"I can't believe we made it!" Violet mutters as Tate walks her to her dorm room.
Somehow all the security was missing at the gates and even the Dean's light was off. The creek of the old door to her building pierces both of their ears and nearly causes each of them a heart attack at the thought that someone would hear it.
Luckily, everything seems to be running smoothly as Violet approaches her room with key in hand, ready to relax her tense nerves. If she's kicked out of Briarcliff she won't be given the privilege to see Tate ever again, and that's not something she wants.
Finally, with a grip on the doorknob, she sighs.
"We made it," she whispers in his ear before leaning in to place one last kiss on his scarlet, plump lips.
However, the sound of a cough pulls the two far apart instantly. And to their worst fears, the Dean is standing in the dim light a few doors down with her arms folded.
"Mr. Langdon? Ms. Harmon?" she asks, almost uncertain that someone would disobey her authority.
Before answering, Tate grabs Violet's wrist and murmurs, "I never wanna let you go- and I never will." And with those simple words, all her fears disappear with their smirks- she won't allow anyone to tears her from Tate.
Not even the Dean, or Queen as she'd like to be called, herself.
A/N: First off, thank you to everyone who reads this fanfic! I truly appreciate the support. I do want to say that I'm not entirely happy with the chapter since it's rather short and uneventful but I promise the next few chapters will be a lot more exciting so please stick around!