Control the Storm Collection
Story 7
Title: Possession
Author: Catherine Grissom
Rating: Hard T? M, maybe...
Summary: I would be the one to hold you down, kiss you so hard, I'll take your breath away...
A/N:Yeah, you remember forever ago when I posted and said I'd try to post something happier? I kinda fibbed. Sorry. This takes place sometime before episode 11
Warnings: University burnout leads to a disturbing Amon.
Disclaimer: Sunrise and Bandai own Witch Hunter Robin. Sarah McLachlan technically owns 'Possession', but the version is Evans Blue's more masculine, violent cover.
Inspired by Evans Blue's cover of 'Possession'.
He watched her. Robin didn't know it and she'd have been shocked to find out. Everyone had a vice. She was his.
He was addicted to her: her graceful movements, her bright eyes, her gentle voice. He wondered: how loud would her voice be, how clouded would her eyes be, how erratic would her movements be as she writhed beneath him. He could imagine it, hear it, feelit and the imagining was so deliciously sinful that it made him want her all the more.
He would have her. He would possess her and she would submit willingly. She wanted him, he knew, and so she would submit.
That thought kept him from feeling any jealousy when she would return to the office for late-night coffee-and-donuts bonding sessions with that boy. Then again, it was hard to feel threatened when he knew that Michael's affection was simply that of one left too long with only a computer monitor for comfort.
The boy wouldn't have her, couldn't have her. Michael didn't know her. Michael didn't know that Robin could sing. She had a wonderfully melancholic mezzo. Michael also didn't know that Robin couldn't cook. Everything she ate was bagged, boxed, or frozen. Michael definitely did not know that Robin had her own vices. She was addicted to espresso, and if left to her own devices, she'd sleep all day.
Amon had been particularly pleased to note that the girl slept nude.
In fact, the silly boy probably thought that Robin prayed every day because she was a good little Catholic girl. Heknew better, knew that it was only habit that took her feet to the tiny church by the park each day.
Robin wasn't a saint. There were seeds of corruption. God, it would be fun to see them bloom. It filled his mind. She filled his mind.
If he could suck it from her lungs, would the air taste sweeter? If it were against her pale skin, would the vital red be more vivid?
She'd put up a token protest, but he knew that she would give in. He knew that she wanted him.
He watched Robin glide about the room. Michael's mug was empty. Away it went. Moments later, Robin was back. Two mugs, one so sweet as to rot teeth, the other harsh and bitter. The first went to Michael and the boy smiled, more grateful for the attention than the drink.
She was at his shoulder now. Amon shifted subtly, just enough to block access to his area of the desk, just to test her. A small huff of frustration came from behind him and he ignored it. After a few moments, she moved to the edge of his desk, slightly in front and to the left of him.
"Coffee," she said and set the mug down.
He allowed no sign that he'd heard. Instead, he watched delicate fingers caress heated ceramic from the cover of a file.
"Amon."
'Hidden one.' His mother's flair for antiquity and the dramatic. He'd always hated the name. But when she said it- mixed supplication and bedroom sigh-
He wanted to hear it moaned. Screamed.
He would have to move quickly, though. If she lost herself before he could have her…He wasn't sure what he'd do. She would lose herself; he knew it. They all did, eventually. Kate had. His own mother had. Soon, so would his little bird.
How though? Would she gradually slip away, as Kate had? Or would she simply not recognize him one day, as it had been with his mother? He hadn't known how to deal with it then. He knew well now.
He'd watched as they forgot themselves. He'd seen them lash out because of it. There was no way to bring them back once they'd crossed that line. So the duty fell to him to ensure that they wouldn't go farther. He hadn't been able to take care of his mother. Kate had died cursing his name.
She would have thanked him if she'd seen what she would have become.
Robin- would she curse him when the time came? Somehow he didn't think so. Robin would accept it. Robin would recognize that she was dangerous. Robinmight even thank him. She was like that. She endured without complaint. Wonderfully submissive. It would almost be a shame to lose her.
But maybe-
Maybe he didn't have to lose her. She could be submissive, loyal only to him. If she belonged to him, if she was his, she couldn't leave him.
But there was that temper, that spark that he'd seen flare up in her. It frightened him. That spark, that temper would be what pulled her from him, what would pull her from herself.
No. He would have to quash it.
A/N2: So, um, yeah. I'll try not to be so all-fired slow in updating. I've got a couple pieces handwritten that should be up relatively quick. As always, please review, even if it's just to yell at me.