[fic] i will tell you secrets God only knows
Title: i will tell you secrets God only knows
Author: badboy_fangirl
Characters/Pairings: Damon POV; Damon/Elena
Word Count: ~1500
Rating/Warnings: NC-17
Spoilers: Everything through 4x07 with some spoilery things lifted from 4x08.
Summary: Sirebond, schmirebond?
Author's notes: If it freaks you out that Damon and Elena have sex even though they know about the sirebond, this isn't the fic for you. I get why it might bother people, but I don't think it's true, so it doesn't bother me. Hence, this fic. Title lifted from Matchbox Twenty's "Overjoyed." Also, apparently DEx inspires fic, yeah? What a happy week! ;-)
Damon genuinely doesn't intend it to happen. Of course, he wants Elena, but he doesn't want her under these circumstances, and he sure as hell doesn't think he can enjoy any sex with her if he suspects she's only doing it to 'make him happy,' which is ironic, because, well.
Sex with Elena is a happy fucking place, okay?
But she comes tearing into his bedroom; she's spiteful and defiant and calls Caroline a few choice words (which sort of tickles him) and when she turns to look at him, she hesitates only a split second before full-on attacking him. She jumps across the bed and wraps her arms and legs around him and he tries to push her off, but she grabs his bottom lip with her teeth and arches into him and it all becomes a lust-filled haze that only ends when they're both naked and she's on top of him. He pants, "Elena, this is so not a good idea," but she lifts herself up and brings herself back down on him in an emphatic gesture that makes her breasts bounce, and what is he really supposed to do?
He's balls-deep inside this girl, he loves her, and she doesn't think she's doing any of this because of some supernatural link between them. In fact, she punches his chest and says, "I love you, you idiot, that's why this is happening," and you know, he just loses his shit.
Because, real or not, this is all he's ever wanted, and maybe later, after he's had an orgasm, he'll be able to think straight again.
(Maybe he'll never think straight anymore, maybe he'll just live in Crooked-ville where Elena is the Mayor and he's her bitch, and they will be blissfully, retardedly happy.)
"Ohgod," he gasps as she moves over him. Her hands are flat on his chest, keeping him in the position she wants and as she comes back down hard on him again, he closes his eyes. Her furious expression and her movements are going to make him come too soon, so he tries to focus, tries to hold it together. His hands fist in the sheets, yanking all the bed clothes loose, and she flicks her fingernails over his nipples. He shouts her name with another plea to some unknown deity, and explodes beneath her, unsure of who is supposed to be sired to whom at this point.
Would it really be so bad? To just follow Elena around, doing whatever she wanted, for the rest of eternity? Oh, who the fuck is he kidding? He's been doing that for the better part of a year, anyway. He tucks that one away for his next fight with Stefan. I'm the sired one, you know, brother, he'll say. I come on command for her, every time.
Yeah, he's a bastard, and he doesn't really give a shit.
(Except that he totally does.)
"It's not what you think," she whispers, leaning forward to bury her face against his throat. Her anger seems to have seeped away with the flow of him into her. He reaches between their bodies, stroking her until she mewls and then he can feel her tears running down the skin of his neck. He doesn't know what to do, so he keeps moving his fingers until she comes.
When she stops quivering in aftershocks, he wraps his arms around her and just holds her against his chest. "I love you, Elena," he whispers back.
She snuggles into him and replies, "I know, Damon."
"When did you first want me?" he asks, his hand stroking through her hair.
She lifts her head from his shoulder, a smile playing around her lips. "When did I first want to kiss you?" she clarifies.
He smirks, and does the eye thing. "Okay, sure. Kissing."
She pauses, considering, and he can still see the blood bag at her lips, and the fact that it slid down her throat as smooth as single malt whiskey. Maybe this is a weirder test than that, even. If she's bound to him, maybe she can read his mind. Maybe she'll just say what he wants to hear, and then he'll know again, for sure.
He can't do this with her. He can't trust this, just like he knew he shouldn't to begin with. When she tells him, Last year, while dancing at Miss Mystic, he'll have the strength to get up from the bed, and he'll put her clothes back on her and he'll send her to her own room.
She's staring at his face, and just as he's about to tease her about how hard it is to remember that first illicit thought, she says, "The night we first met."
He feels his face freeze, some sort of incomprehension happening as he watches the wide smile stretch her lips. "You're lying," he says, not thinking it through.
Her face falls, and she sits up, drawing the sheet protectively with her. "No, I'm not," she replies.
"Elena..." He slides his hand down her arm, her skin so soft it's criminal, until his fingers tangle with hers. "I didn't mean--it's just, come on. You're not a 'kiss some random stranger' kind of girl."
She stares at their hands, and when she speaks again, her voice is small. "You don't know how I was then. That was before..." She pushes out a labored breath, and glances up at his face. "I remember--or rather, after I turned, I remembered," she says, giving him both a tone and a half-glare, "seeing you, and thinking you were beautiful and strange and captivating. And I thought, 'if I let him kiss me, I can tell Matt I kissed this guy, and that will be easier than breaking up with him because there's no magic between us.'" A sheepish expression comes over her face as he laughs unexpectedly. "You were an escape hatch." She tightens her hand around his. "You always have been. The place I could go, and just be." Tears spring to her eyes. "I can't lose that, Damon. Not now. Especially not now."
"You won't," he promises immediately. He props himself up on an elbow so they're closer together. "I just..." he attempts to explain himself.
She shakes her head and lifts her free hand to his lips, shushing him. "I know. Don't say it. We have to...be sure. And if that means no more of this, I can deal with that." She gestures at their naked bodies, and for half a second, Damon curses his noble streak. These are the moments when being 170 really sucks ass. "But I can't lose my friend," she says, a tear spilling down her cheek.
He wants to kiss her more than anything, love her back into feisty rebellion, but that's not right either. Not that Damon's big on what's right or wrong, he never has been, but he is big on what will make Elena happy, and he knows neither of them will be content until they know for sure the extent or reach of this sirebond. "Hey," he says, tipping her chin down so their eyes meet. "Remember how I promised I'd never leave you? That's forever, you know. Immortal being here." He jerks a thumb towards his chest and cracks a smile for her, and her lips tremble into something akin to a grimace. She leans into him and wraps her arms around him, hugging him tight. He brushes his lips over her forehead, love filling him up to overflowing. "You really wanted to kiss me that night?" he asks. For a moment, he almost teases her about being a loose-lipped girl, but he's pretty sure that would only upset her more.
She laughs and nestles her head into the space between his throat and shoulder. "Very much." She waits a beat. "When did you first want to kiss me?"
"Oh, that's easy," he says. "Atlanta. As soon as I saw that you could drink me under the table and beat me at pool? I wanted to ravish you on the green felt right there in Bree's." He slowly sinks back into the pillows, bringing her with him.
Her hand comes to rest against his chest, resting lightly over his heart. "Why can boys never think of just kissing? Why is it always sex?"
"Have you met you?" he snarks. "You're hot. There is no middle ground. It's zero to sex in 6.2 seconds, baby."
She laughs again, a soft, sweet sound that twists through him harder than all the noises she'd made while he was inside her. "I love you, Damon," she says.
She falls asleep before he has to lie and tell her that he knows.
Author: badboy_fangirl
Characters/Pairings: Damon POV; Damon/Elena
Word Count: ~1500
Rating/Warnings: NC-17
Spoilers: Everything through 4x07 with some spoilery things lifted from 4x08.
Summary: Sirebond, schmirebond?
Author's notes: If it freaks you out that Damon and Elena have sex even though they know about the sirebond, this isn't the fic for you. I get why it might bother people, but I don't think it's true, so it doesn't bother me. Hence, this fic. Title lifted from Matchbox Twenty's "Overjoyed." Also, apparently DEx inspires fic, yeah? What a happy week! ;-)
Damon genuinely doesn't intend it to happen. Of course, he wants Elena, but he doesn't want her under these circumstances, and he sure as hell doesn't think he can enjoy any sex with her if he suspects she's only doing it to 'make him happy,' which is ironic, because, well.
Sex with Elena is a happy fucking place, okay?
But she comes tearing into his bedroom; she's spiteful and defiant and calls Caroline a few choice words (which sort of tickles him) and when she turns to look at him, she hesitates only a split second before full-on attacking him. She jumps across the bed and wraps her arms and legs around him and he tries to push her off, but she grabs his bottom lip with her teeth and arches into him and it all becomes a lust-filled haze that only ends when they're both naked and she's on top of him. He pants, "Elena, this is so not a good idea," but she lifts herself up and brings herself back down on him in an emphatic gesture that makes her breasts bounce, and what is he really supposed to do?
He's balls-deep inside this girl, he loves her, and she doesn't think she's doing any of this because of some supernatural link between them. In fact, she punches his chest and says, "I love you, you idiot, that's why this is happening," and you know, he just loses his shit.
Because, real or not, this is all he's ever wanted, and maybe later, after he's had an orgasm, he'll be able to think straight again.
(Maybe he'll never think straight anymore, maybe he'll just live in Crooked-ville where Elena is the Mayor and he's her bitch, and they will be blissfully, retardedly happy.)
"Ohgod," he gasps as she moves over him. Her hands are flat on his chest, keeping him in the position she wants and as she comes back down hard on him again, he closes his eyes. Her furious expression and her movements are going to make him come too soon, so he tries to focus, tries to hold it together. His hands fist in the sheets, yanking all the bed clothes loose, and she flicks her fingernails over his nipples. He shouts her name with another plea to some unknown deity, and explodes beneath her, unsure of who is supposed to be sired to whom at this point.
Would it really be so bad? To just follow Elena around, doing whatever she wanted, for the rest of eternity? Oh, who the fuck is he kidding? He's been doing that for the better part of a year, anyway. He tucks that one away for his next fight with Stefan. I'm the sired one, you know, brother, he'll say. I come on command for her, every time.
Yeah, he's a bastard, and he doesn't really give a shit.
(Except that he totally does.)
"It's not what you think," she whispers, leaning forward to bury her face against his throat. Her anger seems to have seeped away with the flow of him into her. He reaches between their bodies, stroking her until she mewls and then he can feel her tears running down the skin of his neck. He doesn't know what to do, so he keeps moving his fingers until she comes.
When she stops quivering in aftershocks, he wraps his arms around her and just holds her against his chest. "I love you, Elena," he whispers back.
She snuggles into him and replies, "I know, Damon."
"When did you first want me?" he asks, his hand stroking through her hair.
She lifts her head from his shoulder, a smile playing around her lips. "When did I first want to kiss you?" she clarifies.
He smirks, and does the eye thing. "Okay, sure. Kissing."
She pauses, considering, and he can still see the blood bag at her lips, and the fact that it slid down her throat as smooth as single malt whiskey. Maybe this is a weirder test than that, even. If she's bound to him, maybe she can read his mind. Maybe she'll just say what he wants to hear, and then he'll know again, for sure.
He can't do this with her. He can't trust this, just like he knew he shouldn't to begin with. When she tells him, Last year, while dancing at Miss Mystic, he'll have the strength to get up from the bed, and he'll put her clothes back on her and he'll send her to her own room.
She's staring at his face, and just as he's about to tease her about how hard it is to remember that first illicit thought, she says, "The night we first met."
He feels his face freeze, some sort of incomprehension happening as he watches the wide smile stretch her lips. "You're lying," he says, not thinking it through.
Her face falls, and she sits up, drawing the sheet protectively with her. "No, I'm not," she replies.
"Elena..." He slides his hand down her arm, her skin so soft it's criminal, until his fingers tangle with hers. "I didn't mean--it's just, come on. You're not a 'kiss some random stranger' kind of girl."
She stares at their hands, and when she speaks again, her voice is small. "You don't know how I was then. That was before..." She pushes out a labored breath, and glances up at his face. "I remember--or rather, after I turned, I remembered," she says, giving him both a tone and a half-glare, "seeing you, and thinking you were beautiful and strange and captivating. And I thought, 'if I let him kiss me, I can tell Matt I kissed this guy, and that will be easier than breaking up with him because there's no magic between us.'" A sheepish expression comes over her face as he laughs unexpectedly. "You were an escape hatch." She tightens her hand around his. "You always have been. The place I could go, and just be." Tears spring to her eyes. "I can't lose that, Damon. Not now. Especially not now."
"You won't," he promises immediately. He props himself up on an elbow so they're closer together. "I just..." he attempts to explain himself.
She shakes her head and lifts her free hand to his lips, shushing him. "I know. Don't say it. We have to...be sure. And if that means no more of this, I can deal with that." She gestures at their naked bodies, and for half a second, Damon curses his noble streak. These are the moments when being 170 really sucks ass. "But I can't lose my friend," she says, a tear spilling down her cheek.
He wants to kiss her more than anything, love her back into feisty rebellion, but that's not right either. Not that Damon's big on what's right or wrong, he never has been, but he is big on what will make Elena happy, and he knows neither of them will be content until they know for sure the extent or reach of this sirebond. "Hey," he says, tipping her chin down so their eyes meet. "Remember how I promised I'd never leave you? That's forever, you know. Immortal being here." He jerks a thumb towards his chest and cracks a smile for her, and her lips tremble into something akin to a grimace. She leans into him and wraps her arms around him, hugging him tight. He brushes his lips over her forehead, love filling him up to overflowing. "You really wanted to kiss me that night?" he asks. For a moment, he almost teases her about being a loose-lipped girl, but he's pretty sure that would only upset her more.
She laughs and nestles her head into the space between his throat and shoulder. "Very much." She waits a beat. "When did you first want to kiss me?"
"Oh, that's easy," he says. "Atlanta. As soon as I saw that you could drink me under the table and beat me at pool? I wanted to ravish you on the green felt right there in Bree's." He slowly sinks back into the pillows, bringing her with him.
Her hand comes to rest against his chest, resting lightly over his heart. "Why can boys never think of just kissing? Why is it always sex?"
"Have you met you?" he snarks. "You're hot. There is no middle ground. It's zero to sex in 6.2 seconds, baby."
She laughs again, a soft, sweet sound that twists through him harder than all the noises she'd made while he was inside her. "I love you, Damon," she says.
She falls asleep before he has to lie and tell her that he knows.