[FIC] Hot Mess (Damon/Elena) M/NC-17
Title: Hot Mess
Author: shipperjunkie
Characters/Pairing: Damon/Elena
Word Count: 4k
Spoilers: Post 3x22
Rating: M/NC-17
Summary: Elena’s plans don’t always work out the way she expects.
Author’s Note: As always it seems, this happened because of upupa_epops and badboy_fangirl. A special thank you to Marta for looking this over.
~
Elena wasn’t sure how this kept happening.
“This can’t keep happening,” she protested weakly when Damon’s lips slipped from hers to nip at the line of her jaw and nudge her head to the side. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”
“I know, we’re awful people,” he readily agreed in her ear, briefly catching the lobe between his teeth. She opened her mouth to speak, right when he began trailing open-mouthed kisses down the side of her throat, and her train of thought derailed entirely, just crashed and burned.
His kisses moved lower, to the base of her throat and lower, to her collarbone. Lower still, to the v of her button-down shirt and her cleavage. Elena remembered with perfect clarity how he’d done that before, only a month ago, that awful, wonderful night in Denver. How he couldn’t seem to let himself waste an opportunity to get his mouth on as much of her skin as he possibly could, as quickly as he could, as if fearing she’d push him away at any second.
Which was exactly what she’d done the last two times they’d been left alone together and wound up wrapped around each other.
The first time - since Denver, since everything - she’d chalked up to being overwhelmed by her screwy, heightened vampire emotions. She’d transitioned only weeks earlier, and really, she had no business being alone with him. Certainly not while she was still struggling with the urge to chase after every random impulse. She was still raw where Damon was concerned, her feelings a tangled mess, and she knew he was in no better shape. For both their sakes, she should have kept her distance.
They’d been dividing up his blood supply, transferring bags from his cooler to a smaller, portable one for her, and he’d been explaining the best way to keep from being caught on camera during a blood run. He’d handed her a bag, their fingers had brushed, and she’d been instantly transfixed by the sight of their hands, staring with something close to wonder.
He hadn’t left. After everything, he hadn’t left her.
Elena hadn’t even known how much the possibility of him leaving had truly bothered her until right then, the very moment she was certain he would stay. The next thing she knew, she was dragging him to the dirt floor and shoving her tongue down his throat. Instantly horrified, she’d leapt away just as he’d figured out what was happening and grabbed her ass.
The second time was absolutely Damon’s fault, no question. He’d left her be after what happened in the cellar, shutting himself away in other parts of the house whenever she was over. If he’d kept an eye on her she hadn’t sensed it, although Caroline did tell her he’d asked a few general questions about how ‘vampire academy’ was going. For over a week he'd managed to avoid her altogether, leaving the Grill as soon as she’d show up and not returning so much as a single one of her texts. Her calls went straight to voicemail.
She couldn’t remember going so many days without interacting with him on some level, not since they’d met again for the first time. The longer it went on, the angrier she became, even though she knew leaving each other alone was probably for the best.
Elena had told herself that this was what she wanted, after all. She’d reminded herself of all the times she’d resented his constant, unwavering attention, how often she’d thought so many things would be far less complicated for her if he’d just stop caring so much.
As it turned out, though, ‘letting him go’ was much, much easier in theory than in practice. The empty space in her life, the jagged hole his absence created, was so much larger than she’d thought it would be. The pain went deep, a hollow ache Elena simply didn’t know what to do with. She had Stefan and Jeremy, she had Caroline, Bonnie, all her friends, so why did Damon pulling away hurt her so deeply? She knew she was being irrational, just the worst kind of hypocritical, greedy, needy bitch. She’d chosen Stefan, what did she expect him to do?
Not remain in Mystic Falls yet cut her off entirely, that was for sure. Knowing he was nearby, close but inaccessible . . . it was nearly more than she could bear. To make matters worse, she’d had to keep her frustrations to herself. Ric was the only one who’d even begun to understand her complicated relationship with Damon, and with him gone, none of her other friends seemed likely to listen. ‘Good riddance, you made the right decision’ wasn’t what she wanted or needed to hear.
Stefan, being Stefan, saw and understood much more than he’d ever let on, yet Elena couldn’t bring herself to broach the topic with him. Not while things between them were so fragile, their reconciliation a delicate balance of comfort, white lies and total avoidance. She didn’t know how to explain to her boyfriend that her restlessness and snappish attitude had nothing to do with hunger or urges, but that she couldn’t stop thinking about his brother.
Unable to tolerate the situation any longer, she’d let herself into Damon’s bedroom one afternoon, fully prepared to apologize for messing with his mind. She’d rehearsed a whole speech about how much she valued their friendship, how they should try and get past what happened and move on, start again. Elena had found him in the middle of cleaning out his fireplace, covered to his elbows in grime, and just that easily she’d lost both her resolve and all her pretty words.
Looking at him, so beautiful and familiar, she’d been struck, overwhelmed by how much she’d missed him. How much he’d made her miss him, simply by taking himself away from her. Her purse had gone flying first, followed by whichever knickknack her hand had landed on. Her aim significantly improved by vampirism, both had hit their target, landing squarely against his thigh and shoulder as he’d stood up.
“You stupid idiot,” she’d blurted out angrily, turning on her heel to flee. “It doesn’t have to be all or nothing!”
She’d barely gotten the door open, the knob creaking in her grip, when his hand had appeared out of nowhere over her shoulder and slammed it shut. Elena had turned, itching for a fight, but he’d jerked her against him and buried his face in her hair for a moment, holding her close. Then he’d pressed her up against the door and kissed her, kept kissing her, the soot on his hands staining her clothes wherever he'd touched her.
When she’d managed to get away, moments that felt like hours later, she’d caught her reflection in the rearview mirror as she’d backed down the driveway. Noting the streaks of black on her jaw where he’d held her face, she thought about the look in his eyes when she’d shoved at his chest and then she was crying, tears streaking messily through the soot.
That had been two days ago.
Now here she was, straddling Damon in the backseat of his convertible, parked in the wooded area overlooking the Falls.
“I didn’t plan this,” she tried again, breathless. “This isn’t what I wanted when I asked you to meet me here.”
“I know. I know, Elena,” he said, sliding his hands down her thighs and up again, over her hips to cup her ass. Making his way back up to the side of her throat, his lips brushed her skin as he spoke. “I’ve listened to every single one of your ‘we can be friends, no really’ voicemails. Your last message said to meet you here, that you needed to see me, that you’d hunt me down if I didn’t show. I figured I was in for some more mixed-signal bullshit, and really, who could resist that?”
Elena blew out a breath, frustrated with him, with herself, with their entire, complicated situation. Why did things have to be so difficult between them?
She remembered exactly why when Damon’s deft, swift fingers began unbuttoning her shirt from the bottom up. Realizing what he was about to discover, Elena felt a blush steal up her chest and throat, heat blooming in her face.
That morning, when she'd opened her underwear drawer, for some reason her hand had reached right past plain white cotton and pastel stripes. She'd looked to the back of the drawer, where she kept her racier underthings, the ones made of flimsy red lace and blue silk. The stuff she bought and paid dearly for yet never really wore.
“Tell me again how you didn’t plan this,” Damon said, calling her out with a smirk stretched clear across his face. “And that part about how this wasn’t what you wanted to happen. I’ll believe you. Promise.”
“Shut up,” she huffed, flustered. Elena felt ridiculous, exposed in more ways than one because obviously some part of her had wanted this to happen and planned accordingly.
The bra was black lace and rich, purple satin, the balconette style making the most of her breasts. What had seemed so pretty and sexy only that morning now felt slutty and obvious. She hadn't let herself think much about what she was doing as she'd gotten dressed, after she'd already left him the message asking him to meet her at one of Mystic Falls’ more popular make-out spots. What the hell was wrong with her?
“No, really," he continued, eyes fixed on her hiked-up breasts. "Tell me more, Elena.”
It didn’t exactly help matters any when she realized she was probably one big, deep breath away from her nipples making an unexpected appearance over the tops of the structured half-cups. Elena was a hot mess, this whole situation was a total disaster and she couldn’t begin to figure out what she’d been thinking when she’d strapped herself into the stupid thing.
“Damon-”
‘Tell me you didn’t buy this for me,” he demanded quietly, cutting off whatever lame excuse she’d been about to make. Slipping a fingertip beneath one strap, he slid the satin from her shoulder and leaned in to replace it with the wet warmth of his mouth. Elena struggled to think, her face flushed with an odd combination of desire and embarrassment.
“Don’t flatter yourself, I bought it a year ago,” she said, getting ahold of his face with both hands and tugging his head away so she could look him in the eye. “I wear it all the time. For all you know, it’s my favorite.”
Damon didn’t seem the least bit convinced. “You’ve never worn this before,” he said, and while his arrogant certainty would normally rankle her, Elena could also see how much he wanted it to be true, how much he needed to know this wasn’t a whim she’d later regret.
“I haven’t,” she admitted softly, truthfully, giving up and giving in. Grasping his jaw with one hand, she brought his mouth up to meet hers. “But I’m wearing it now. For you,” she whispered, right before she kissed him.
If he’d been guarded before, he was wide open now, devouring her mouth with a fierce, desperate hunger she responded to greedily. Their teeth clashed, lips mashing, heads tilting as tongues wrestled for control. One kiss bled into another and another and another, seamless, unending, gentling at times only to intensify with the next slick thrust of tongue.
Part of her was screaming inside, absolutely terrified, panicked by the swell of pure emotion that threatened to overwhelm her. The rest of Elena was done being scared, though, and while she still shied away from naming what she felt for him, she knew beyond the shadow of a doubt she couldn't handle being separated from Damon any longer.
Damon sank blunt teeth into the soft, swollen flesh of her lower lip and she whimpered into his mouth, needy and soft, every cell in her body crying out for Damon, every bit of her needing every last bit of him. Whatever the consequences would be, and there would be plenty, Elena didn't intend to let him go, not for anyone, not ever again.
“I want to be with you,” she whispered, like she was sharing a secret with him, and Damon laughed, the asshole.
“No shit,” he said, panting beneath her, hands sliding down to her hips.
He hadn't grasped the weight of her words, what she was really trying to tell him. That was fine. She'd explain it to him and they'd figure out what to do. After.
Elena sat up and shrugged the shirt from her shoulders and let the material slip down her arms to the floorboard of his car. Keeping her eyes on his, she reached behind her and unfastened her ridiculous bra. As soon as she got the clasp undone he had the scrap of satin and lace off her body, tossed over her shoulder into the front seat. Her bra could have been hanging from the rearview mirror for all she knew; all she cared about was the look on his face, love and wonder and a number of other emotions reflected in the blue, endless depths of his eyes. Lust was chief among them at the moment.
Damon's hands slid up her torso toward her bare breasts, molding and shaping them, learning the feel of her. Elena wrapped her fingers loosely around his wrists and looked on as he petted and squeezed her flesh, touching her however he wanted. She moaned a little when he leaned in to plant a kiss between her breasts and nuzzled his face against her.
Her nipples felt swollen and stiff, incredibly hard, and Elena wanted his mouth on them so badly she could hardly stand it. It was an effort, a true test of will to let him get there on his own and not just drag his head to where she wanted him most. After setting the pace of their every encounter thus far, she wanted to give him a turn, give him time to explore her but she was quickly approaching the limits of her shaky control. Her patience was rewarded when, mere moments later, she felt his lips close around a peak. He sucked it into his mouth, bit at her, and Elena felt the flare of raw desire burn through her, again and again, intensifying, burning hotter, brighter.
He had one hand down the back of her jeans and the other spread wide between her shoulder blades, holding her firmly against his mouth as he sucked strongly at one nipple then the other, cheeks hollowing, driving her right out of her fucking mind. Elena slid her fingers through his soft, inky black hair, startled all over again by how right it felt to have his hands and mouth all over her body, how right it felt to be with him. She watched him through barely-open eyes, panting, watched as he licked at the tips of her breasts and tugged the peaks between his teeth. When he lingered at one nipple, curling his tongue around it, she let go of him with one hand to circle and pinch the other herself.
Damon’s groan was deep and low and dirty, the sound rumbling through her chest, and she ground herself against him, hard, hips circling gracelessly. In response he bucked up against her, the hard ridge of his cock pressing against her through layers of denim and at least one pair of underwear. It wasn't enough, not nearly, and she whimpered in frustration, grinding, imagining the feel of him inside her, thick and deep.
“Too many clothes,” she complained, and she heard him heartily agree as she pulled away from him. Fucking pants. Why couldn’t she have subconsciously added a skirt to her non-plan to go along with the bra? Shucking her jeans was awkward, and she ended up having to flop down to sit beside him in order to kick off her shoes and peel the denim from her legs. Damon was useless, too busy watching her and fumbling with his own belt buckle to be of any help. She finally got them off and thrown aside just as he shoved his own pants down his thighs, jeans pooling around his ankles and boots. Elena's underwear was tiny and purple and tucked into places she didn't find at all comfortable, and it was a relief to get them off her body.
"Oh God, come here," he groaned, reaching for her waist just as she flung a leg across his lap and climbed on. She kissed him messily, eagerly, her hair falling all around them while his hands explored her newly bared skin. They ground against each other, his hard length and her throbbing clit meeting up quite nicely. It still wasn't enough. Not nearly.
"Inside me," she insisted against his mouth, reaching down between them to wrap her hand around his cock. Lifting herself up, it was the easiest, most natural thing in the world to her, guiding him, letting go when she felt the tip of him push into her.
Her eyelids fluttered shut as she slid down the length of his cock, the stretch of her muscles delicious. When she was fully seated, when he was as deep as he could go, she opened her eyes to find him staring up at her.
"Inside you," he said, softly, and she could see how overwhelmed he was by the concept, by the reality. This wasn't exactly going to last long, not by any means, but for a moment time itself seemed to still and stop so they could breathe each other in.
"Damon," she whispered, flexing around him. The spell broke and she moved, the grip of his fingers biting into her hips. It took them three thrusts to find a rhythm and she settled into it, holding onto his shoulders as her breasts bounced.
It was everything she’d imagined being with him would be like, feel like, only so much better, so much more. For all the times she’d pictured sex with Damon, her imagination couldn’t hope to conjure up the details, like how dark and soft and long his eyelashes truly were, how sweaty he’d get, or how they’d fit together like she’d been made to take him. She had no idea, for instance, that Damon would somehow find a way to silently will her to keep her eyes open while she found her release. And there was no way she’d ever have been able to guess that he’d tremble in her arms and clutch her to him tightly as he came, shuddering, breathing her name like it was the sweetest prayer he knew.
Elena collapsed in a boneless heap against him and he stroked the length of her back, speaking nonsense in a low murmur as he softened and slipped from her body. A moment later, Damon helped her shift until she was sitting sideways across his lap. Elena kissed his cheek and tucked her head into the crook of his neck, her eyes drifting shut as arms wound themselves around her.
For a long, long time, he simply held her and she simply let him.
"I won't pretend," he said suddenly, breaking into her quiet reverie.
"What?"
"I won't pretend this didn't happen," he repeated, fierce and low. It hurt to know he'd even thought she'd ask that of him, that she’d treated him so shabbily that of course his first thought would be that she’d want him to forget it ever happened. "And I won't stay away from you. So you need to figure out what you're going to do."
"Damon, I-"
"You said it didn't have to be all or nothing but you're wrong, Elena. You know I love you. You know it. That's why it does have to be all or nothing.” Damon tilted his head back and stared up at the sky, his mouth a grim, determined line. “I can't go through this shit again. I won’t."
If her mind hadn't already been up, his painful declaration would have been more than enough to clinch the deal. Because she knew it for the lie it was. He would pretend if she asked, he would stay away even if it nearly killed him to do so, if she told him that's what she needed. He'd wait for her forever, all she had to do was ask.
"All," she answered, quiet and serious. "When I said I wanted to be with you, I meant for longer than tonight."
Utter shock stamped itself across his face, followed swiftly by disbelief, giving way to guarded hope. "How long were you thinking?"
"The foreseeable future. Or until we kill each other, whichever."
He kissed her, his hands on her face then tangling through her hair as evening fell around them. Throughout the forest leaves rustled in the light breeze, crickets chirped and owls began to hoot softly to one another. Underscoring everything was the sound of rushing water, the Falls they'd both played in as children.
She wished they could just stay there, in the back of his car, wrapped around each other. They could watch the moon continue to rise, stare up at the stars she could see with a clarity she’d never hope to have as a human. They could just lie quietly together and savor the moment, stretch it out indefinitely, make it last as long as possible.
Reality could only be pushed away for so long, however. There was a mess drying on her thighs and she needed to get home so she could shower and put on some fresh clothing. It was going to be hard enough talking to Stefan without having the scent of his brother all over her.
The coming days and weeks were not likely to be easy or pleasant. There was going to be pain, heartache, judgement, accusations, explanations and pleas for understanding. Elena wasn’t looking forward to any of it. Except for the part where she already felt such sharp relief, as if all the pressure had been taken from her chest and she could breathe, deeply and freely. She had no idea if the peaceful feeling would last and she wanted to stay right where she was, wrapped in his arms, for just awhile longer.
Perhaps they could face the music tomorrow . . . and maybe she could convince him to take a dip in the lake.
"What happens now?"
“We have a truly terrible conversation with Stefan in our immediate future,” she answered. “First thing in the morning. Both of us.”
“Both of us,” he agreed, looking pained. She knew he didn’t want to hurt his brother and that he’d prefer for her to do the talking, that he’d rather let Stefan beat the shit out of him than apologize for anything. She also knew he wouldn’t let her twist in the wind, either. “What are we going to tell him? What are you going to say?”
“I’m going to tell him what I think he already knows.” Elena didn’t let herself have time to think before she continued. “I’m going to tell him that I’m in love with you. And then life as I know it is going to explode.”
Damon’s grip on her tightened, the catch in his breath so obvious she wanted to tease him about it a little but didn’t. Instead she waited for the inevitable panic to set in.
What in the world had happened? How the hell had she gone from picking out a trashy bra that morning to having sex with Damon and declaring her love? Life was weird, she mused.
Panic seemed content to keep itself at bay for once. “Let’s go swimming,” she said.
“Sounds like a plan.”
Author: shipperjunkie
Characters/Pairing: Damon/Elena
Word Count: 4k
Spoilers: Post 3x22
Rating: M/NC-17
Summary: Elena’s plans don’t always work out the way she expects.
Author’s Note: As always it seems, this happened because of upupa_epops and badboy_fangirl. A special thank you to Marta for looking this over.
~
Elena wasn’t sure how this kept happening.
“This can’t keep happening,” she protested weakly when Damon’s lips slipped from hers to nip at the line of her jaw and nudge her head to the side. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”
“I know, we’re awful people,” he readily agreed in her ear, briefly catching the lobe between his teeth. She opened her mouth to speak, right when he began trailing open-mouthed kisses down the side of her throat, and her train of thought derailed entirely, just crashed and burned.
His kisses moved lower, to the base of her throat and lower, to her collarbone. Lower still, to the v of her button-down shirt and her cleavage. Elena remembered with perfect clarity how he’d done that before, only a month ago, that awful, wonderful night in Denver. How he couldn’t seem to let himself waste an opportunity to get his mouth on as much of her skin as he possibly could, as quickly as he could, as if fearing she’d push him away at any second.
Which was exactly what she’d done the last two times they’d been left alone together and wound up wrapped around each other.
The first time - since Denver, since everything - she’d chalked up to being overwhelmed by her screwy, heightened vampire emotions. She’d transitioned only weeks earlier, and really, she had no business being alone with him. Certainly not while she was still struggling with the urge to chase after every random impulse. She was still raw where Damon was concerned, her feelings a tangled mess, and she knew he was in no better shape. For both their sakes, she should have kept her distance.
They’d been dividing up his blood supply, transferring bags from his cooler to a smaller, portable one for her, and he’d been explaining the best way to keep from being caught on camera during a blood run. He’d handed her a bag, their fingers had brushed, and she’d been instantly transfixed by the sight of their hands, staring with something close to wonder.
He hadn’t left. After everything, he hadn’t left her.
Elena hadn’t even known how much the possibility of him leaving had truly bothered her until right then, the very moment she was certain he would stay. The next thing she knew, she was dragging him to the dirt floor and shoving her tongue down his throat. Instantly horrified, she’d leapt away just as he’d figured out what was happening and grabbed her ass.
The second time was absolutely Damon’s fault, no question. He’d left her be after what happened in the cellar, shutting himself away in other parts of the house whenever she was over. If he’d kept an eye on her she hadn’t sensed it, although Caroline did tell her he’d asked a few general questions about how ‘vampire academy’ was going. For over a week he'd managed to avoid her altogether, leaving the Grill as soon as she’d show up and not returning so much as a single one of her texts. Her calls went straight to voicemail.
She couldn’t remember going so many days without interacting with him on some level, not since they’d met again for the first time. The longer it went on, the angrier she became, even though she knew leaving each other alone was probably for the best.
Elena had told herself that this was what she wanted, after all. She’d reminded herself of all the times she’d resented his constant, unwavering attention, how often she’d thought so many things would be far less complicated for her if he’d just stop caring so much.
As it turned out, though, ‘letting him go’ was much, much easier in theory than in practice. The empty space in her life, the jagged hole his absence created, was so much larger than she’d thought it would be. The pain went deep, a hollow ache Elena simply didn’t know what to do with. She had Stefan and Jeremy, she had Caroline, Bonnie, all her friends, so why did Damon pulling away hurt her so deeply? She knew she was being irrational, just the worst kind of hypocritical, greedy, needy bitch. She’d chosen Stefan, what did she expect him to do?
Not remain in Mystic Falls yet cut her off entirely, that was for sure. Knowing he was nearby, close but inaccessible . . . it was nearly more than she could bear. To make matters worse, she’d had to keep her frustrations to herself. Ric was the only one who’d even begun to understand her complicated relationship with Damon, and with him gone, none of her other friends seemed likely to listen. ‘Good riddance, you made the right decision’ wasn’t what she wanted or needed to hear.
Stefan, being Stefan, saw and understood much more than he’d ever let on, yet Elena couldn’t bring herself to broach the topic with him. Not while things between them were so fragile, their reconciliation a delicate balance of comfort, white lies and total avoidance. She didn’t know how to explain to her boyfriend that her restlessness and snappish attitude had nothing to do with hunger or urges, but that she couldn’t stop thinking about his brother.
Unable to tolerate the situation any longer, she’d let herself into Damon’s bedroom one afternoon, fully prepared to apologize for messing with his mind. She’d rehearsed a whole speech about how much she valued their friendship, how they should try and get past what happened and move on, start again. Elena had found him in the middle of cleaning out his fireplace, covered to his elbows in grime, and just that easily she’d lost both her resolve and all her pretty words.
Looking at him, so beautiful and familiar, she’d been struck, overwhelmed by how much she’d missed him. How much he’d made her miss him, simply by taking himself away from her. Her purse had gone flying first, followed by whichever knickknack her hand had landed on. Her aim significantly improved by vampirism, both had hit their target, landing squarely against his thigh and shoulder as he’d stood up.
“You stupid idiot,” she’d blurted out angrily, turning on her heel to flee. “It doesn’t have to be all or nothing!”
She’d barely gotten the door open, the knob creaking in her grip, when his hand had appeared out of nowhere over her shoulder and slammed it shut. Elena had turned, itching for a fight, but he’d jerked her against him and buried his face in her hair for a moment, holding her close. Then he’d pressed her up against the door and kissed her, kept kissing her, the soot on his hands staining her clothes wherever he'd touched her.
When she’d managed to get away, moments that felt like hours later, she’d caught her reflection in the rearview mirror as she’d backed down the driveway. Noting the streaks of black on her jaw where he’d held her face, she thought about the look in his eyes when she’d shoved at his chest and then she was crying, tears streaking messily through the soot.
That had been two days ago.
Now here she was, straddling Damon in the backseat of his convertible, parked in the wooded area overlooking the Falls.
“I didn’t plan this,” she tried again, breathless. “This isn’t what I wanted when I asked you to meet me here.”
“I know. I know, Elena,” he said, sliding his hands down her thighs and up again, over her hips to cup her ass. Making his way back up to the side of her throat, his lips brushed her skin as he spoke. “I’ve listened to every single one of your ‘we can be friends, no really’ voicemails. Your last message said to meet you here, that you needed to see me, that you’d hunt me down if I didn’t show. I figured I was in for some more mixed-signal bullshit, and really, who could resist that?”
Elena blew out a breath, frustrated with him, with herself, with their entire, complicated situation. Why did things have to be so difficult between them?
She remembered exactly why when Damon’s deft, swift fingers began unbuttoning her shirt from the bottom up. Realizing what he was about to discover, Elena felt a blush steal up her chest and throat, heat blooming in her face.
That morning, when she'd opened her underwear drawer, for some reason her hand had reached right past plain white cotton and pastel stripes. She'd looked to the back of the drawer, where she kept her racier underthings, the ones made of flimsy red lace and blue silk. The stuff she bought and paid dearly for yet never really wore.
“Tell me again how you didn’t plan this,” Damon said, calling her out with a smirk stretched clear across his face. “And that part about how this wasn’t what you wanted to happen. I’ll believe you. Promise.”
“Shut up,” she huffed, flustered. Elena felt ridiculous, exposed in more ways than one because obviously some part of her had wanted this to happen and planned accordingly.
The bra was black lace and rich, purple satin, the balconette style making the most of her breasts. What had seemed so pretty and sexy only that morning now felt slutty and obvious. She hadn't let herself think much about what she was doing as she'd gotten dressed, after she'd already left him the message asking him to meet her at one of Mystic Falls’ more popular make-out spots. What the hell was wrong with her?
“No, really," he continued, eyes fixed on her hiked-up breasts. "Tell me more, Elena.”
It didn’t exactly help matters any when she realized she was probably one big, deep breath away from her nipples making an unexpected appearance over the tops of the structured half-cups. Elena was a hot mess, this whole situation was a total disaster and she couldn’t begin to figure out what she’d been thinking when she’d strapped herself into the stupid thing.
“Damon-”
‘Tell me you didn’t buy this for me,” he demanded quietly, cutting off whatever lame excuse she’d been about to make. Slipping a fingertip beneath one strap, he slid the satin from her shoulder and leaned in to replace it with the wet warmth of his mouth. Elena struggled to think, her face flushed with an odd combination of desire and embarrassment.
“Don’t flatter yourself, I bought it a year ago,” she said, getting ahold of his face with both hands and tugging his head away so she could look him in the eye. “I wear it all the time. For all you know, it’s my favorite.”
Damon didn’t seem the least bit convinced. “You’ve never worn this before,” he said, and while his arrogant certainty would normally rankle her, Elena could also see how much he wanted it to be true, how much he needed to know this wasn’t a whim she’d later regret.
“I haven’t,” she admitted softly, truthfully, giving up and giving in. Grasping his jaw with one hand, she brought his mouth up to meet hers. “But I’m wearing it now. For you,” she whispered, right before she kissed him.
If he’d been guarded before, he was wide open now, devouring her mouth with a fierce, desperate hunger she responded to greedily. Their teeth clashed, lips mashing, heads tilting as tongues wrestled for control. One kiss bled into another and another and another, seamless, unending, gentling at times only to intensify with the next slick thrust of tongue.
Part of her was screaming inside, absolutely terrified, panicked by the swell of pure emotion that threatened to overwhelm her. The rest of Elena was done being scared, though, and while she still shied away from naming what she felt for him, she knew beyond the shadow of a doubt she couldn't handle being separated from Damon any longer.
Damon sank blunt teeth into the soft, swollen flesh of her lower lip and she whimpered into his mouth, needy and soft, every cell in her body crying out for Damon, every bit of her needing every last bit of him. Whatever the consequences would be, and there would be plenty, Elena didn't intend to let him go, not for anyone, not ever again.
“I want to be with you,” she whispered, like she was sharing a secret with him, and Damon laughed, the asshole.
“No shit,” he said, panting beneath her, hands sliding down to her hips.
He hadn't grasped the weight of her words, what she was really trying to tell him. That was fine. She'd explain it to him and they'd figure out what to do. After.
Elena sat up and shrugged the shirt from her shoulders and let the material slip down her arms to the floorboard of his car. Keeping her eyes on his, she reached behind her and unfastened her ridiculous bra. As soon as she got the clasp undone he had the scrap of satin and lace off her body, tossed over her shoulder into the front seat. Her bra could have been hanging from the rearview mirror for all she knew; all she cared about was the look on his face, love and wonder and a number of other emotions reflected in the blue, endless depths of his eyes. Lust was chief among them at the moment.
Damon's hands slid up her torso toward her bare breasts, molding and shaping them, learning the feel of her. Elena wrapped her fingers loosely around his wrists and looked on as he petted and squeezed her flesh, touching her however he wanted. She moaned a little when he leaned in to plant a kiss between her breasts and nuzzled his face against her.
Her nipples felt swollen and stiff, incredibly hard, and Elena wanted his mouth on them so badly she could hardly stand it. It was an effort, a true test of will to let him get there on his own and not just drag his head to where she wanted him most. After setting the pace of their every encounter thus far, she wanted to give him a turn, give him time to explore her but she was quickly approaching the limits of her shaky control. Her patience was rewarded when, mere moments later, she felt his lips close around a peak. He sucked it into his mouth, bit at her, and Elena felt the flare of raw desire burn through her, again and again, intensifying, burning hotter, brighter.
He had one hand down the back of her jeans and the other spread wide between her shoulder blades, holding her firmly against his mouth as he sucked strongly at one nipple then the other, cheeks hollowing, driving her right out of her fucking mind. Elena slid her fingers through his soft, inky black hair, startled all over again by how right it felt to have his hands and mouth all over her body, how right it felt to be with him. She watched him through barely-open eyes, panting, watched as he licked at the tips of her breasts and tugged the peaks between his teeth. When he lingered at one nipple, curling his tongue around it, she let go of him with one hand to circle and pinch the other herself.
Damon’s groan was deep and low and dirty, the sound rumbling through her chest, and she ground herself against him, hard, hips circling gracelessly. In response he bucked up against her, the hard ridge of his cock pressing against her through layers of denim and at least one pair of underwear. It wasn't enough, not nearly, and she whimpered in frustration, grinding, imagining the feel of him inside her, thick and deep.
“Too many clothes,” she complained, and she heard him heartily agree as she pulled away from him. Fucking pants. Why couldn’t she have subconsciously added a skirt to her non-plan to go along with the bra? Shucking her jeans was awkward, and she ended up having to flop down to sit beside him in order to kick off her shoes and peel the denim from her legs. Damon was useless, too busy watching her and fumbling with his own belt buckle to be of any help. She finally got them off and thrown aside just as he shoved his own pants down his thighs, jeans pooling around his ankles and boots. Elena's underwear was tiny and purple and tucked into places she didn't find at all comfortable, and it was a relief to get them off her body.
"Oh God, come here," he groaned, reaching for her waist just as she flung a leg across his lap and climbed on. She kissed him messily, eagerly, her hair falling all around them while his hands explored her newly bared skin. They ground against each other, his hard length and her throbbing clit meeting up quite nicely. It still wasn't enough. Not nearly.
"Inside me," she insisted against his mouth, reaching down between them to wrap her hand around his cock. Lifting herself up, it was the easiest, most natural thing in the world to her, guiding him, letting go when she felt the tip of him push into her.
Her eyelids fluttered shut as she slid down the length of his cock, the stretch of her muscles delicious. When she was fully seated, when he was as deep as he could go, she opened her eyes to find him staring up at her.
"Inside you," he said, softly, and she could see how overwhelmed he was by the concept, by the reality. This wasn't exactly going to last long, not by any means, but for a moment time itself seemed to still and stop so they could breathe each other in.
"Damon," she whispered, flexing around him. The spell broke and she moved, the grip of his fingers biting into her hips. It took them three thrusts to find a rhythm and she settled into it, holding onto his shoulders as her breasts bounced.
It was everything she’d imagined being with him would be like, feel like, only so much better, so much more. For all the times she’d pictured sex with Damon, her imagination couldn’t hope to conjure up the details, like how dark and soft and long his eyelashes truly were, how sweaty he’d get, or how they’d fit together like she’d been made to take him. She had no idea, for instance, that Damon would somehow find a way to silently will her to keep her eyes open while she found her release. And there was no way she’d ever have been able to guess that he’d tremble in her arms and clutch her to him tightly as he came, shuddering, breathing her name like it was the sweetest prayer he knew.
Elena collapsed in a boneless heap against him and he stroked the length of her back, speaking nonsense in a low murmur as he softened and slipped from her body. A moment later, Damon helped her shift until she was sitting sideways across his lap. Elena kissed his cheek and tucked her head into the crook of his neck, her eyes drifting shut as arms wound themselves around her.
For a long, long time, he simply held her and she simply let him.
"I won't pretend," he said suddenly, breaking into her quiet reverie.
"What?"
"I won't pretend this didn't happen," he repeated, fierce and low. It hurt to know he'd even thought she'd ask that of him, that she’d treated him so shabbily that of course his first thought would be that she’d want him to forget it ever happened. "And I won't stay away from you. So you need to figure out what you're going to do."
"Damon, I-"
"You said it didn't have to be all or nothing but you're wrong, Elena. You know I love you. You know it. That's why it does have to be all or nothing.” Damon tilted his head back and stared up at the sky, his mouth a grim, determined line. “I can't go through this shit again. I won’t."
If her mind hadn't already been up, his painful declaration would have been more than enough to clinch the deal. Because she knew it for the lie it was. He would pretend if she asked, he would stay away even if it nearly killed him to do so, if she told him that's what she needed. He'd wait for her forever, all she had to do was ask.
"All," she answered, quiet and serious. "When I said I wanted to be with you, I meant for longer than tonight."
Utter shock stamped itself across his face, followed swiftly by disbelief, giving way to guarded hope. "How long were you thinking?"
"The foreseeable future. Or until we kill each other, whichever."
He kissed her, his hands on her face then tangling through her hair as evening fell around them. Throughout the forest leaves rustled in the light breeze, crickets chirped and owls began to hoot softly to one another. Underscoring everything was the sound of rushing water, the Falls they'd both played in as children.
She wished they could just stay there, in the back of his car, wrapped around each other. They could watch the moon continue to rise, stare up at the stars she could see with a clarity she’d never hope to have as a human. They could just lie quietly together and savor the moment, stretch it out indefinitely, make it last as long as possible.
Reality could only be pushed away for so long, however. There was a mess drying on her thighs and she needed to get home so she could shower and put on some fresh clothing. It was going to be hard enough talking to Stefan without having the scent of his brother all over her.
The coming days and weeks were not likely to be easy or pleasant. There was going to be pain, heartache, judgement, accusations, explanations and pleas for understanding. Elena wasn’t looking forward to any of it. Except for the part where she already felt such sharp relief, as if all the pressure had been taken from her chest and she could breathe, deeply and freely. She had no idea if the peaceful feeling would last and she wanted to stay right where she was, wrapped in his arms, for just awhile longer.
Perhaps they could face the music tomorrow . . . and maybe she could convince him to take a dip in the lake.
"What happens now?"
“We have a truly terrible conversation with Stefan in our immediate future,” she answered. “First thing in the morning. Both of us.”
“Both of us,” he agreed, looking pained. She knew he didn’t want to hurt his brother and that he’d prefer for her to do the talking, that he’d rather let Stefan beat the shit out of him than apologize for anything. She also knew he wouldn’t let her twist in the wind, either. “What are we going to tell him? What are you going to say?”
“I’m going to tell him what I think he already knows.” Elena didn’t let herself have time to think before she continued. “I’m going to tell him that I’m in love with you. And then life as I know it is going to explode.”
Damon’s grip on her tightened, the catch in his breath so obvious she wanted to tease him about it a little but didn’t. Instead she waited for the inevitable panic to set in.
What in the world had happened? How the hell had she gone from picking out a trashy bra that morning to having sex with Damon and declaring her love? Life was weird, she mused.
Panic seemed content to keep itself at bay for once. “Let’s go swimming,” she said.
“Sounds like a plan.”