Title: Possession

Raiting: M

Disclaimer: 18+ This story depicts descriptive sexual acts and may contain adult content not suitable for most adults. For those who tend to like vanilla and passionate sex for you is missionary this story may not be for you.

Summary: Years have passed since Violet's heart felt goodbye. Tate has had time to loose himself and succumb to the darkness she thought herself attracted to, only to learn he truly was. Now they will both see what happens when Tate looses himself and must stake claim to that he has possessed.

A/N: This will be a series of dabbles, the main intent of this story is Smut/Kink. I have gone back cleaned the story up a bit, condensing it so it wasn't an overwhelming amount of smut goodness at once. (Reviews Are Always Appreciated)

When his hand twisted around the cold metal of the doorknob and it unlocked, his mind perceived it as fate was allowing him entrance back to where he was denied access. He could smell the alluring fragrance of vanilla candles, the smell of warm lavender and fresh linen from the running shower. The flickering of the ember that burned from the candle cascaded against the wall. Steam seeped from the crack of the open door, beckoning him to enter the forbidden chamber.

Violet was drying off her head and face when she stepped out from the shower, her face buried in the fluffy texture of the towel, when someone grabbed her and pinned her against the sink counter, driving the air out of her, air she shouldn't need. The stranger yanked her arms behind her and with a quick click; Violet found that her hands were cuffed behind her.

"HELP! Ahhhhh," Violet screamed as the intruder stuffed a large ball into her mouth and cinched it behind her head. Violet tried to struggle; she was being forced against the counter as the intruder intertwined some rope around her elbows, cinching them together cruelly. The threading of the rope tearing at her skin, burning the tender flesh.

The blindfold came next. Violet tried to shake her head, but Tate managed to get it into position and latched it tight. Violet's world around her went black, helpless from her two most basic resources taken. Sight and sound, you never realize how precious the ability to see the majestic wonders around you, the true beauty and marvel of things. The magic of the words forming in the back of your throat, spilling out the lips. Especially in this world of regret and sorrow.

Tate then spun her around put her squirming form over his shoulder and started to carry her into his old bedroom. The one she now resided in. The nights were long watching her slender figure sprawl across the bed, withering beneath the blanket as her hand rubbed at her wet panties, the friction sending her over the edge. Hand clenching and grasping at the bed spread as his name tumbles from her lips, unbeknown to her he was watching her every move, burning into his mind the memory of how breathy her moans and pants are, the way her body arches and aches for his touch.

The repulsed look on her face that once again she finds herself thinking of the person who violated her mother in a way she had once almost begged for on the beach. Innocent and naive, never knowing the baby growing inside her mother was actually that of the would be lover she eventually gave herself fully to.

Funny how in the years she let herself vulnerable, unable to recognize when a presence was near her. How he began to lurk and watch her act as if she we still living the life of the brooding, angst ridden teenage girl, forever trapped in her body and mind as a budding woman who will never develop, never know any love other then what she had briefly experienced with Tate.

Tate threw her onto the bed and again, pinning her on her stomach, he wrestled Violet's delicate legs together and wrapped them in a coil of rope, binding them together. Violet felt another strand of rope being wrapped around her waist. She fought and squirmed as much as she possibly could, but to no avail. She tried to will her being away, fade into the darkness and appear somewhere safe. Her ability that you only attain in death was blocked to her.

The intruder rolled her unto her back, cinched the rope around her waist and then reached between her closed legs, feeding the rope through them. She was then tossed back onto her stomach where she felt the rope tighten and sink into her folds. The man then tied it to her handcuffs.

Whenever she yanked and pulled on her wrists, the rope between her legs rubbed within her slit and over her swollen nub. Her body tensed as the friction sent signals to her brain releasing endorphins, the knowing ache from unsatisfied release building deep in her core.

Tate stepped back to look over his prize. In his capturing of his obsession, he hadn't had the chance to admire her in all her helpless nakedness. Violet still continued to buck and struggle against her bindings as she lay helplessly on her bed. Her long, ash blonde hair was a tangle of wet strands partially draping over her gagged and blindfolded face.

She was petite and slender, her body pale in comparison to most in California with their sun kissed skin. It was a nice contrast that fit well in his afterlife of death and decay. Her skin was the snow flakes he would never feel land and melt on the warm flesh of his living body. Even in this fragile, vulnerable state her feverish temperament won't allow her to submit. Her appearance and attitude different then that he had known in his brief time amongst the living.

Her chest prominently stuck out from her arms being restrained behind her back, her pink areolas look like a soft blush on the soft, pale skin, her nipples fully erect. He theorized it was a combination from the cool stale air hitting her wet flesh and the excitement he hoped he was causing her in this panicked state she was in.

Violet was still withering on the covers, but considerably less. Tate could imagine she was trying to think things through, trying to plan out and attack her bindings logically. In truth she found very quickly the more she struggled the more her joints flared from the constriction of her restraints, the growing arousal building between her legs from the rope moving against her nub. When Tate sat next to her helpless form, she began struggling again in earnest.