and i love her ▸ tate langdon ✓

16. use once and destroy

It's poisonous it muscles it aches
It's everything you had when it breaks

-

Marceline sits on the bed, Tate standing in front of her and pouring vodka into her open mouth. She laughs, swallowing the alcohol as he pours a steady stream into her mouth. His hand holds her jaw to keep her still, otherwise her laughing would make him miss.

He stops pouring, watching as Marceline giggles. She always got very giddy when drunk and Tate could tell. "Give me," she says through laughs, snatching the bottle from his hand and standing from the bed.

She pushes him so he's sitting down, standing between his legs as she places her hand on his jaw like he did to her. Holding the vodka bottle over his open mouth, she pours the alcohol and watches it waterfall into his mouth.

Her hand moves just a bit and the alcohol trails down his chin and neck. "Oops," Marceline laughs, setting the vodka bottle down on the nightstand.

Using the back of his hand, Tate wipes the vodka off his skin. "You did that on purpose," he says, his own words slurred but not as bad as Marceline's were. She shrugs, watching as he stands from the bed and grabs the vodka bottle.

"No, Tate. No--"

She gets cut off when he pours vodka over her chest as a way of revenge. She gasps, backing up from him. "You wasted it!" she cries, backing away from him. "We have more," he shrugs, following where she walks.

"Get away," she warns, smiling widely as she moves to the other side of the bed. Tate shakes his head, holding the vodka bottle in his hand.

She tries to make a run for it to get out of the hotel room but Tate stops her, his arms wrapping around her waist and pulling her back. "Stop!" she says, laughing as she kicks. They both laugh, Marceline trying to escape his grip.

Tate pushes her onto the bed, ceasing her kicking. She wore a bright smile on her lips, looking more alive than he had ever seen her. The top of her shirt was sticky with the vodka he had poured on her previously, leaving a wet spot on the neckline of her shirt.

He holds her hands above her head, keeping her from fighting back. She laughs, no longer typing to escape his grasp.

Hovering over her, Tate grabs the vodka bottle again and dumps the rest of the bottle on her. "You are so petty," she says, gasping as the cold liquid soaks her shirt. "Maybe so, Mars," he replies, getting off of her and tossing the empty bottle onto the floor.

She sits up, peeling the wet off her skin and watching it just stick back to her chest. "This is gross," she groans, watching as Tate grabs a cigarette and brings it outside to smoke.

Thinking he wasn't watching, Marceline takes off her shirt and walks into the bathroom, rinsing her chest of the sticky alcohol Tate had poured on her. Drying her chest off, she walks back into the room and bends over, grabbing a new shirt from her suitcase that lays open on the floor.

Tate watches from the balcony through the large window, a sick smile on his lips as he watches her bend over-- completely shirtless-- and grabs a new tee shirt to put on. He'd be lying if he said it didn't make him hard.

Once she had gotten dressed again, unaware of Tate having seen, Tate tosses his cigarette over the balcony and walks back into the hotel room.

She looks up at him, smiling as she sees Tate. "Hi!" she says gleefully, sitting on the bed. She was way more than just drunk. Before Tate could reply, her phone rings. She hops up from the bed, picking up her phone and looking at it. "Daniel, hi!" she says, looking at Tate and mouthing 'It's Daniel' to him.