11:27 (Damon/Elena) [The Vampire Diaries]
Title: 11:27
Fandom: The Vampire Diaries
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters. No profit is being made off this.
Rating: 18+
Pairing: Damon/Elena
Warnings: graphic sex, trauma, language
Notes: Sequel to 3:18 and 5:53.
Though she knew Stefan was instructed to protect rather than hurt her, Elena still felt better with the stake in her hand.
After she’d finished crying, Damon had sat her down on his bed. Then, crouching down to her level, he’d said, “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”
Fear her gripped her at his words. Spending the evening with Stefan and his corpses and playthings had taken a lot out of her. For the first time Elena had experienced compulsion first hand, so there had been no escaping that blood-drenched living room. Not until Damon had arrived and, per Stefan’s coercion, said hello to her.
It had been that residual terror that made her grab his hand. “Where are you doing?” she’d whispered.
His expression grim, Damon had covered his hand with both of his. “To clean up the mess.” When she hadn’t let go, he’d added, “I won’t leave you, Elena. But I need to take care of this now.”
Reluctantly, Elena had let him go. Her eyes had remained on him until the door closed.
Now she waited, clasping her only means of defense.
But for the occasional thump or creak, the Salvatore mansion was silent. Elena strained to hear any tell-tale sign of people in the house but received none. The sinking intuition in her gut told her Stefan’s plump-lipped victim was dead, and he was lingering in the house to both keep her safe (well, Klaus’s version of safe) and revel in her discomfort.
How many people have died in this house, Elena wondered. How had it drastically transformed from a safe haven to a slaughterhouse in the space of one summer?
When the door opened again, Elena instinctively raised the stake. She relaxed she saw Damon. He eyed the weapon but made no verbal comment. Instead he said, “I need to get rid of the bodies.”
“Right now?” Elena didn’t mean to come off as petulant. It had been her decision to stay and wait. Still, she wanted Damon nearby. After the earlier spectacle, she finally understood she had no idea what Stefan would do to or around her anymore.
Shrugging, Damon replied, “Sooner is better than later.” Despite his words, he strode over to a cabinet made of dark alder. Inside he found a crystal bottle with amber colored liquid and a short glass. He poured a couple shots worth. Rather than drink it, he offered it to her.
He certainly didn’t have to twist her arm. Elena accepted the glass and unthinkingly took a mouthful of the alcohol. Almost immediately she choked. It was bitter and burned her throat. She managed to swallow most of it, but some trickled down her chin and she had to wipe her mouth with the back of her hand. Damon took the drink back.
“What is that?” Elena sputtered.
Damon smiled humorlessly. “Bourbon.”
The vile taste lingered on the back of her tongue. Rubbing her mouth again, she muttered, “I like it better with eggnog.”
“It’s better for you straight.” He gestured at her, the corner of his mouth curled up. “Looks like it cleared your sinuses right up.”
Mortified, Elena covered her nose and made a beeline for the bathroom. Stupid, stupid Damon! she thought furiously. Twisting the cold water on, Elena set to cleaning her face and reducing the puffiness of her eyes. She blindly found a towel and patted her face dry.
She wasn’t mad at Damon, not really, but she needed another moment to compose herself. Tiredly, Elena folded and set the towel down before studying her reflection. Her eyes will still watery and her nose bright red from the crying. Somehow her hair had become a tangled mess.
And Damon was right; her sinuses were a lot clearer. It was then the smell finally hit her. Elena looked down at her stained sneakers and jeans in dismay. Hastily she removed her shoes and socks, but the pants were another problem. She couldn’t very well just waltz out half naked.
Even though that’s all you’ve wanted to do for weeks? the voice in the back of her mind sneered.
Something dark and soft hit her head, briefly obscuring her vision until it fell into her hands. Perplexed, Elena looked over to find Damon watching her from the threshold. He waved at her with his drinking hand. “Change. You puked all over yourself.”
Embarrassed, Elena held up the shirt to examine, though in reality she was blocking her view of Damon.
“Don’t worry about the rug,” he added casually. “I had to throw it out anyway.”
The furnishings had never really crossed her mind. It seemed to her more and more people died violently in this house than anywhere else. Exactly how many spare rugs did the Salvatore brothers have?
Instead, Elena inquired, “What about pants?”
“You’ll swim in that,” replied Damon. “It’ll cover more than those adorable PJs.” When Elena glared at him, he grinned and raised his glass in a mock toast. “I’ll be out here.”
As soon as she had her privacy, Elena stripped down. She took care to separate her stained clothes from the clean into different lumps on Damon’s bathroom floor before donning the T-shirt. It hung loose off her shoulders, making her feel like a child in her father’s clothes. Damon typically wore well-fitted shirts, and it surprised her to notice how broad his chest had to be to fit in the same clothing.
Damon was wrong about one thing, though. The shirt barely covered her bottom. Elena pulled at it in futile, self-conscious effort. When she tired of trying to change the shape and size of the borrowed shirt, Elena slowly crept back into the bedroom.
Damon was on the bed, pouring himself another shout of bourbon. His posture was relaxed, but his eyes betrayed him by looking her up and down, lingering at her legs.
Heat flushed Elena’s face and she pulled at the hem again. Damon’s unique clove-and-earth scent tickled her senses, worse now that she was wearing something of his. Without meaning to she remembered how that one night he’d pushed her legs up to her breasts before pressing his lips to her-
Elena brought her head up to meet his piercingly blue gaze. “Thank you,” she said stiffer than she intended.
Damon is not the danger now, she had to remind herself. Her head high, Elena walked to the bed and took a seat beside him.
He didn’t look at her, preferring to study his drink with acute interest. Wordlessly, Damon handed her the glass and took the crystal bottle, twisting the stopper until it popped out. His eyes flitted her way and clanked the bottle against the glass. “No thanks needed,” he said in the quiet way he reserved for sincerity.
Being so close to him without quite touching him sent pleasant tingles through Elena’s nerves. Suddenly she was hyper aware of both herself and Damon: the heat radiating from the arm that was within an inch of hers, how the barely perceptible ripples of his muscles spoke of his restrained power, the faint tickle of his breath, the dampness between her legs-
I could smell you on him a mile away.
Violent shudders overtook her. Elena lost her hold on the glass; it was only Damon’s catlike reflexes that prevented another mess. Still shivering, Elena hugged herself and tried not to think. The images came unbidden. Blood spattering the living room seemed brighter in her memory. So did the cold, cruel look in Stefan’s then-grey eyes as he compelled her to keep his company. Bodies everywhere, a man singing off-key, the girl tripping over her corpse friend as she crawled to Stefan . . .
Elena only distantly noted Damon’s hands on her arms. Whatever he was asking, she wasn’t hearing it. Memories were drowning out the real world, flooding her and threatening to pull her down and fill her lungs until she ceased to breathe.
Reality came in brief flashes of clarity. Damon coaxing her to lie down. A pillow being clutched to her face as Elena gasped tearlessly. The lights dimming in her periphery.
Somewhere amongst Damon’s soft words and the dizzying swarm of shock-induced memories, the world around Elena blurred to black.
The sound of a door closing roused Elena. She tried to sit up, but her exhaustion and the comfort of Damon’s bed weighed her down. Her eyes managed to open to twin slits in time to see a dark figure slip into the adjoining bathroom.
Was it Damon or Stefan, she wondered groggily. The wherewithal to panic was muted. Too much of that had occurred in one day. Elena doubted she had even an ounce of adrenaline left.
Water spattering on tile told of the shower starting. Breathing a soft sigh of relief, Elena allowed herself to drift off again.
She was startled awake when someone crawled onto the bed beside her. Darkness blinded her-how late was it, anyway?-so she attempted to roll over and confirm who it was.
Damon’s hand stopped her by the shoulder and pushed her back down. Elena flopped to the pillows, feeling as though she’d fallen onto a puffy black cloud. Irate but not in the mood to argue (much), Elena murmured, “What happened?”
Calmly, Damon replied, “You went into shock. Then you fell asleep. I got rid of the bodies. Showered.” After a lengthy pause, he said, “Good night.”
This time when she sat up, he didn’t try to stop her. As her eyes adjusted to the room cloaked in night, Elena began to make out Damon’s body stretched out atop the covers, clad in nothing but a wet towel and one arm draped over his eyes.
Instinct made Elena push his arm away. Oddly, Damon did not resist. Squinting, Elena saw there was a greyish blotch just beneath his left eye. Even as she stared it was fading to flesh color. Soundlessly she touched it, questioning with her eyes.
Damon responded in kind, his blue-shaded-slate gaze staring directly back until she understood.
Sometime between her losing consciousness and Damon returning, he’d had a confrontation with Stefan. Perhaps it had started with words, but it had certainly ended physically.
Part of Elena worried for the tentatively humane Stefan that was still buried deep within, but the majority of her focus was on the man beneath her. She had gone against his advice by coming to the Salvatore place and learned the hard way why he had prevented her from doing so for such a long time. Even as Damon angered her for his over-protectiveness, he was still looking out for her. This was one of the times Elena could concede he had been right to do so, even if she continued to resist the offer for a memory wipe.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Damon’s mouth twitched in not quite a smile. “Ditto.”
Before he had the chance to turn her down, Elena rested her head against his bare chest and curled up half on top of him. He was still damp and the towel was soaking through her borrowed shirt, but Elena felt better all the same.
Damon inhaled as though to say something, apparently thought better of it, and placed his hand at her head, petting her hair in a subdued manner.
Elena wrapped her arm around his waist. “I’m glad you didn’t leave me,” she told him.
“You weren’t supposed to be here,” was Damon’s response.
Quieting, Elena tried to think of a rebuttal. She had none. “You were right.”
Damon snorted. “Call out the cavalry. A first from the stubborn Elena Gilbert.” Elena scowled and smacked his side. If anything, her response was more like a kitten trying to hiss and failing, judging from Damon’s snicker.
“I’m not that stubborn,” she insisted.
A bark of laughter was her response. It only fueled Elena’s irritation. When she went to smack him again, Damon caught her hand. To her surprise, he twined their fingers together instead of pushing her back and lowered their hands, not once letting go. “You wouldn’t be as much fun if I didn’t want to shake some sense into you half the time.”
His clasp was warm, Elena couldn’t help noticing. She gave a barely perceptible squeeze back. “Sometimes I think the same,” she admitted. When she raised her head, she found Damon’s expression soft in that strangely intense way only he could pull off.
Wryly, he said, “It’s a shame I only get you into my bed under horrible circumstances.”
Elena rolled her eyes. “It’s not that bad.”
“Don’t play tough. It’s bad.”
A flash of Stefan’s chilling smile came to her again. This time Elena only shuddered; she didn’t lose her mind.
In a small voice, she said, “He broke me, Damon.”
“No,” he said with abrupt anger. Elena began to draw back, but Damon kept his arm tightly around her. Nuzzling near her ear, he said, “He got to you. But he didn’t break you.”
Elena’s eyes stung, but she managed not to cry. “Let’s not play tough.”
“I’m serious,” Damon stated, his voice still hot. “If you were broken, you wouldn’t still be here, in this house. If you were the type to break, you wouldn’t have stupidly come here in the first place and come inside. You’re stronger than that.” One of his thumbs brushed beneath her eye, catching a trembling tear. “It takes more than my baby brother trying to reenact some godawful horror movie to break you.”
Trying not to remember, Elena focused on the latter part of his speech. “Horror movie?”
Damon released her hand to wave it grandiosely. “The bodies everywhere? The blood? All women and no men?”
“One man,” she corrected him uncomfortably.
“Making a girl his puppet?” Damon continued as if he hadn’t heard her. “It’s all part of some stupid Hollywood horror movie catering to your conventional wannabe hard high schooler.”
Had it been anyone other than Stefan doing it, Elena might have seen the humor in it. She couldn’t. “It’s not funny, Damon,” she sighed.
Annoyed once again, he snapped, “I’m not trying to be funny. I’m making a point.”
Elena didn’t want to talk about it anymore, but she doubted Damon’s stance. The middle ground seemed to be the only appropriate way to go, so she hugged him and kept quiet. Beneath her hand she could feel Damon’s heart beating, much quicker than normal, and with the slight arrhythmia she remembered from their “training” session.
Gradually, as they lay in the dark, his heart calmed. Time passed in a manner she couldn’t keep track of. The room seemed to grow steadily darker and her eyes continued to adjust. Looking around didn’t help her, since vampires didn’t seem to have much use for alarm clocks and Elena’s phone was still in her car.
She hoped no one had been trying to get hold of her, or if they had, that they weren’t too worried. It occurred to her to check, but that meant walking down the halls where Stefan could be lurking around any corner, and Elena wasn’t quite ready yet.
Damon’s chest heaved as he sighed restlessly. For whatever reason, Elena was very aware of his muscles moving beneath her hand. Without stopping to think, she rubbed her hand over him slowly.
In a tone that mixed playfulness with suspicion, Damon said, “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Nothing,” said Elena. She didn’t stop, closing her eyes to better enjoy his warmth.
Catching her hand, Damon said, “Stop.”
Pushing herself up, Elena shifted so she was half on him. Her hair fell around his face in a curtain, giving him little choice but to look at her.
Quietly, she said, “I know you love me.”
Unease flickered in Damon’s eyes a split second. “Considering how I confessed on my deathbed, I’d certainly hope so.”
“So why have you kept rejecting me?”
There. It was out in the open now. Elena wasn’t sure where the courage had come from-she certainly hadn’t had it before coming here-but one way or another she had to get her answer now.
The look on Damon’s face said it was the last topic he wanted to be speaking about. Elena wasn’t about to let it go so easily, so she began preparing herself to bully him into it.
In a complete twist, he told her in a low voice, “I compelled you once.”
Elena frowned. “Don’t change the subject.”
“I’m not,” he said. Grim lines crossed his face, as though he were steeling himself for what he had to say. “I compelled you once, a while back. You didn’t want me to say it, but I had to tell you I loved you.” Elena stilled above him, dimly wondering what her expression was like. His voice dropping to breathy murmurs, Damon continued, “Just to get it off my chest. It was driving me crazy, like it was going to erupt.”
“So?” Elena whispered.
Reaching up to brush his knuckles against her cheek, Damon said, “I told you then. It’s because I love you I can’t be selfish with you.”
How could she tell him? Elena lowered her eyes, wrestling with her words. Damon’s hand fell away from her face. This time it was she who grabbed him by the hand, her fingers wrapped around his palm and her thumb on his wrist.
Unable to meet his eyes, she confessed, “I knew.”
She could have sworn Damon had a skip in his pulse. Not the occasional arrhythmia, an absolute momentary stop in his heartbeat. Inhaling sharply, she reminded him, “I died, Damon. This house isn’t mine and old . . . compulsions . . . didn’t hold anymore.”
She threaded their fingers together again, forcing herself to meet his eyes. His usual intensity had turned to chaotic confusion and a spark of something that, were it anyone other than Damon, Elena would have easily named fear.
What did he have to fear? She’d already given Damon a part of her she reserved for very few. The only reason they had stopped was because he chose to. Elena had never wanted to, and for days, weeks, had her mind filled with Damon and Damon’s embrace and Damon’s fiery passion between her legs. Incomplete passion, because Elena craved more.
She leaned down to rest her forehead against his, her heart beating so wildly she could feel every pulse shake her. “We were never a mistake that night. And you were everything but selfish.”
Something snapped loose in Damon’s gaze in that instant. Before Elena could completely comprehend what was happening, he had pulled her down for the most desperately tender kiss she’d ever had. Only their lips touched, but she was alight with the fire she’d so sorely missed.
The connection broke for a few moments, enough time for Damon to push her hair back and look at her in that tortured way he was so good at. “How was I supposed to resist you much longer?” he breathed.
“Shut up,” Elena muttered before rekindling the fire. Damon’s mouth curled into a slight smile against hers, and then they were lost in the kiss. Elena shifted so she was straddling Damon’s waist. The towel was still covering him, barely, but it couldn’t hide the hardness pressing insistently against her inner thigh. She pushed away, amused in spite of herself. “You wore a towel to bed to resist me?”
“I’d hoped I would be wrong,” he admitted, glancing down with that glimmer of hunger. “You didn’t fight about putting pants on.”
Elena opened her mouth to retort, but was only able to emit a small yelp as his hands moved frighteningly fast, grasping her hips and yanking her bodily up. Her hands flew up to grasp something, anything, and all she could find was the headboard at eye level. Hastily, she said, “Damon. Wait. No. You already gave me-”
“And you liked it,” he cut her off. Glancing down, Elena noticed he was observing her panties approvingly. “I’ll try to be gentle,” he said absent mindedly as he hooked the crotch of the cloth and pulled it to the side. “I like lace.”
All the adrenaline Elena thought she’d lost was shooting through her now. She didn’t want his mouth, she wanted him inside-
At least, she thought that until he guided her down, his hand against the small of her back, and began planting feathery kisses against her. When Elena whimpered in frustration, he said, “If you really do want this, you’re going to come so much you’ll thank me for holding out.” With that his tongue was on her clit, rubbing hot and slick until Elena moaned. This time she was free to express herself, she realized.
Indeed, Damon didn’t threaten to stop if she didn’t keep quiet. He urged her down more, his breath caught as he pleasured her. The bit of her underwear pulled aside was already damp, and the more Damon worked her over, the wetter she became. Elena pressed her forehead against the headboard, gripping until her knuckles went white. Her thighs tensed against each side of his head.
Damon’s hand slid from her back to her side, gripping her hip as he tirelessly made her trickle until his face, her legs, and from the feel of it the sheets were soaked. Words melted into senseless bright colors behind Elena’s eyelids. She found herself gasping for breath, the sensation nearly too wonderful for her to stand.
Soothingly, Damon rubbed her hips, his hand deviously sliding beneath her. When he started sucking on her hyper-sensitive clit, he also daringly slid a couple fingers inside until he touched that perfect spot.
Elena’s back arched sharply, a startled shout escaping her as Damon’s mouth and fingers picked up the tempo. It was difficult not to either grind against him or pull away. Only a sliver of the sanity he hadn’t stolen with his tongue kept her relatively still as the pressure within built and built. For just a second Elena opened her eyes long enough to catch him watching her, fierce hunger and deviousness making his eyes shine brightly at her in the dark.
That made it too much. Elena cried out loudly as the sweet blanket of her first orgasm enveloped her. As with last time, Damon refused to stop. Now that he’d found the accurate mix of inner and outer stimulation, he kept at it until she came again and again and again, until Elena lost count and was covered in a thin sheen of sweat and the sheets were so wet she wildly thought she was going to drown him.
The barest strength kept her upright when Damon pulled his fingers away and eased her down so she could take a moment to breathe. Elena’s calves were cramping and her arms were wobbly and near useless in keeping her hovering above him.
Damon licked at his lips, his mouth and chin glistening with evidence of her intense orgasms. His smile faded into something a little more serious. Elena knew then he was going to try talking her out of it again.
Not this time.
Elena reached back and grabbed the towel, yanking it loose before Damon thought to stop her. Agitated, she glared at him when he brought her hands forward, kissing her palms with a solemn expression. “Think about it, Elena.”
Impatiently, she bit, “I’ve done nothing but think about it. Your cock needs to be in me.” With that she yanked a hand free, reached down and behind her once again and gave him a firm squeeze. This is what I want, she wanted to yell.
Any reserves Damon had seemed to evaporate when she grabbed him. “Dirty girl,” he whispered excitedly. Abruptly he sat up and flipped her down onto her back in the same motion. Elena landed partially on her arm but quickly fixed that problem, determined not to let that bit of carelessness get in her way.
Finally, Damon seemed to be on the same page as her. The towel was rudely thrown away, landing with a sad thump elsewhere in the room. While she had the chance, Elena kicked her way free of her useless panties. Damon aided her with the shirt. It sounded like he tore it in the process-but it was his shirt and not on Elena’s list of priorities.
For the first time, they were naked together.
When Damon had seen her bare breasts last time, he had paused to admire. Now he seemed more intent on admiring by touch. He clasped Elena’s hands and pinned them above her head, and then lowered himself to kiss her. Elena opened her mouth to him and curved her back until even a slip of paper couldn’t slide between them, her moan muffled by Damon’s lips. His cock was hard and hot against her pelvis, slipping easily when he ground against Elena as her earlier arousal acted as lubricant. Elena bent her knees so he could rub against her clit. The resulting friction was enough for her to squirm violently, protesting against his kisses that this was not enough; it was too slow.
Damon ducked down to nuzzle her neck, murmuring words Elena was too blissfully dizzy with need to make out. Until he bit her. She shrieked, a different frightened sound, until she realized it was a painless, fangless bite.
He stopped, looking up guiltily. “Elena,” he started, seeming unsure how to continue.
She lay beneath him, trying to calm her racing heart back to merely excited. He’d been caught up in the moment, she told herself. That had been a normal, human bite. Damon would never bite her as a vampire again. He was past that.
This Damon cared about her.
Elena pulled one of his hands to her mouth, her eyes unwavering from his as she bit down. She’d done the same the last time at her house, trying to keep quiet.
Relief didn’t completely drown out his guilt. Damon apologized with several kisses, each growing rapidly more heated. Soon enough he was hard again, but he was obviously much more hesitant.
“Damon,” Elena gasped between kisses. “I told you. I need it . . .”
He cupped her face in both hands, quieting her with open mouth and tongue. Just as Elena was melting into it, he stopped and told her, “It’s yours, Elena. Take it.”
It wasn’t that Elena was a stranger to taking charge in the bedroom. When she’d been with Matt, she’d become used to it, and with Stefan she had done it often enough. But for some reason, Damon made her nervous. Maybe it was that he was notably older. Or rather, exceedingly experienced.
When she didn’t react immediately, Damon leaned so they were nearly kissing again, his breath caressing her and his eyes dark and blue and intense as he murmured, “Take it, Elena.”
That decided her. Elena reached between them and wrapped her fingers around his cock, stroking him and watching as, this time, Damon allowed himself to get carried away. A pleased hum escaped him. Encouraged, Elena tightened her grip a fraction and continued, growing more excited and giddy as Damon’s struggle not to lose control to her hand. His hardness was hot and throbbing against her. The intensity of his gaze faded as his eyes closed.
Exhaling slowly, Elena slid herself down and guided Damon inside of her.
Despite his words, Damon’s impatience won out. He finished the job for her by thrusting until he was in deep, filling Elena with his cock the way she’d fantasized and even rubbed herself to over the weeks.
Even Damon seemed at a loss for words. He rested his elbows on either side of her head, trapping Elena so she had to look him in the eye. Huskily, he said, “This is what you thought of?”
“Every night,” she assured him, grinding against him. Damon rocked back in response, more pleased and smug than she’d ever seen him. In response, Elena raised her legs until he got the hint and hooked them over his shoulders. He could definitely go deeper then, Elena realized loudly and wordlessly.
“You stubborn girl,” he murmured. As Elena fumbled for a response, he pulled out and thrust into her again, her arousal squirting from her when he did so. Words were useless, she decided as she clung to his neck, grinding her hips to meet his strokes. The familiar sensation of a building orgasm welled up within her, and his cock was hitting the right spot, but there was something holding Elena back. Each cry and shout matched Damon’s thrusts, but the release was just barely out of her reach.
Part of her was selfishly afraid Damon would finish first. Elena’s fingernails bit into his shoulders.
Then he was wrestling one of her hands free, guiding her down between their bodies until her fingers touched her swollen clit. Damon helped Elena rub herself, his eyes glinting when she whimpered.
“I told you, Elena,” he said deviously between thrusts. “I’m going to make you come so much.”
It was too much, touching herself while he made her soak the sheets with every move of his hips. Damon pressed down, driving his cock into her faster, watching her with growing lust as she rubbed her clit. Flushed, needing to come, Elena forced herself to keep her hand working where it was, even when it became too much for her to handle. She writhed under Damon and screamed something acutely resembling his name as she came. Elena had to stop touching herself then, she couldn’t take more, but Damon determinedly picked up right where she left off, ignoring her weak-willed protests as each resulting orgasm turned her “No, it’s too much” into mindless repetitions of, “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop!”
Every nerve was aflame with pleasure as Damon obeyed. Elena’s hair was damp under her from the spreading wetness resulting from her repeated coming. At one point it occurred to Elena that, as a vampire, Damon probably could go on for hours. She’d be a useless puddle of orgasms.
Damon did finish, but not in the way she expected. He was so close when it happened, nearly crushing her beneath him when he suddenly groaned and slipped out of her. Startled, Elena could only wrap both arms around his neck and hold tight as his cock throbbed a moment against her stomach before Damon came.
His skin was slippery to the touch, he was panting much harder than she would have thought needed, and he was heavy on her. Still Elena held on and closed her eyes; certain she could fall asleep this way.
Slowly, gingerly, Damon rolled off her and flopped to the giant mattress. Elena waited a few beats to make sure she was able to move, and then moved to curl up with him. Damon welcomed her with open arms, his skin rapidly cooling but comforting nonetheless.
Once he had his breath back, Damon mused, “Stefan probably heard us.” He glanced at her slyly. “Don’t you think?”
“Let’s hope,” Elena murmured drowsily.
The air seemed to shift suddenly, or maybe it was Damon stiffening. Or maybe it was Elena’s own imagination. Whatever it was, it disappeared and allowed her to be pulled to sweet, Stefanless dreams for the night.
Utterly unaware to Elena, Damon remained wide awake and disturbed.
Fandom: The Vampire Diaries
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters. No profit is being made off this.
Rating: 18+
Pairing: Damon/Elena
Warnings: graphic sex, trauma, language
Notes: Sequel to 3:18 and 5:53.
Though she knew Stefan was instructed to protect rather than hurt her, Elena still felt better with the stake in her hand.
After she’d finished crying, Damon had sat her down on his bed. Then, crouching down to her level, he’d said, “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”
Fear her gripped her at his words. Spending the evening with Stefan and his corpses and playthings had taken a lot out of her. For the first time Elena had experienced compulsion first hand, so there had been no escaping that blood-drenched living room. Not until Damon had arrived and, per Stefan’s coercion, said hello to her.
It had been that residual terror that made her grab his hand. “Where are you doing?” she’d whispered.
His expression grim, Damon had covered his hand with both of his. “To clean up the mess.” When she hadn’t let go, he’d added, “I won’t leave you, Elena. But I need to take care of this now.”
Reluctantly, Elena had let him go. Her eyes had remained on him until the door closed.
Now she waited, clasping her only means of defense.
But for the occasional thump or creak, the Salvatore mansion was silent. Elena strained to hear any tell-tale sign of people in the house but received none. The sinking intuition in her gut told her Stefan’s plump-lipped victim was dead, and he was lingering in the house to both keep her safe (well, Klaus’s version of safe) and revel in her discomfort.
How many people have died in this house, Elena wondered. How had it drastically transformed from a safe haven to a slaughterhouse in the space of one summer?
When the door opened again, Elena instinctively raised the stake. She relaxed she saw Damon. He eyed the weapon but made no verbal comment. Instead he said, “I need to get rid of the bodies.”
“Right now?” Elena didn’t mean to come off as petulant. It had been her decision to stay and wait. Still, she wanted Damon nearby. After the earlier spectacle, she finally understood she had no idea what Stefan would do to or around her anymore.
Shrugging, Damon replied, “Sooner is better than later.” Despite his words, he strode over to a cabinet made of dark alder. Inside he found a crystal bottle with amber colored liquid and a short glass. He poured a couple shots worth. Rather than drink it, he offered it to her.
He certainly didn’t have to twist her arm. Elena accepted the glass and unthinkingly took a mouthful of the alcohol. Almost immediately she choked. It was bitter and burned her throat. She managed to swallow most of it, but some trickled down her chin and she had to wipe her mouth with the back of her hand. Damon took the drink back.
“What is that?” Elena sputtered.
Damon smiled humorlessly. “Bourbon.”
The vile taste lingered on the back of her tongue. Rubbing her mouth again, she muttered, “I like it better with eggnog.”
“It’s better for you straight.” He gestured at her, the corner of his mouth curled up. “Looks like it cleared your sinuses right up.”
Mortified, Elena covered her nose and made a beeline for the bathroom. Stupid, stupid Damon! she thought furiously. Twisting the cold water on, Elena set to cleaning her face and reducing the puffiness of her eyes. She blindly found a towel and patted her face dry.
She wasn’t mad at Damon, not really, but she needed another moment to compose herself. Tiredly, Elena folded and set the towel down before studying her reflection. Her eyes will still watery and her nose bright red from the crying. Somehow her hair had become a tangled mess.
And Damon was right; her sinuses were a lot clearer. It was then the smell finally hit her. Elena looked down at her stained sneakers and jeans in dismay. Hastily she removed her shoes and socks, but the pants were another problem. She couldn’t very well just waltz out half naked.
Even though that’s all you’ve wanted to do for weeks? the voice in the back of her mind sneered.
Something dark and soft hit her head, briefly obscuring her vision until it fell into her hands. Perplexed, Elena looked over to find Damon watching her from the threshold. He waved at her with his drinking hand. “Change. You puked all over yourself.”
Embarrassed, Elena held up the shirt to examine, though in reality she was blocking her view of Damon.
“Don’t worry about the rug,” he added casually. “I had to throw it out anyway.”
The furnishings had never really crossed her mind. It seemed to her more and more people died violently in this house than anywhere else. Exactly how many spare rugs did the Salvatore brothers have?
Instead, Elena inquired, “What about pants?”
“You’ll swim in that,” replied Damon. “It’ll cover more than those adorable PJs.” When Elena glared at him, he grinned and raised his glass in a mock toast. “I’ll be out here.”
As soon as she had her privacy, Elena stripped down. She took care to separate her stained clothes from the clean into different lumps on Damon’s bathroom floor before donning the T-shirt. It hung loose off her shoulders, making her feel like a child in her father’s clothes. Damon typically wore well-fitted shirts, and it surprised her to notice how broad his chest had to be to fit in the same clothing.
Damon was wrong about one thing, though. The shirt barely covered her bottom. Elena pulled at it in futile, self-conscious effort. When she tired of trying to change the shape and size of the borrowed shirt, Elena slowly crept back into the bedroom.
Damon was on the bed, pouring himself another shout of bourbon. His posture was relaxed, but his eyes betrayed him by looking her up and down, lingering at her legs.
Heat flushed Elena’s face and she pulled at the hem again. Damon’s unique clove-and-earth scent tickled her senses, worse now that she was wearing something of his. Without meaning to she remembered how that one night he’d pushed her legs up to her breasts before pressing his lips to her-
Elena brought her head up to meet his piercingly blue gaze. “Thank you,” she said stiffer than she intended.
Damon is not the danger now, she had to remind herself. Her head high, Elena walked to the bed and took a seat beside him.
He didn’t look at her, preferring to study his drink with acute interest. Wordlessly, Damon handed her the glass and took the crystal bottle, twisting the stopper until it popped out. His eyes flitted her way and clanked the bottle against the glass. “No thanks needed,” he said in the quiet way he reserved for sincerity.
Being so close to him without quite touching him sent pleasant tingles through Elena’s nerves. Suddenly she was hyper aware of both herself and Damon: the heat radiating from the arm that was within an inch of hers, how the barely perceptible ripples of his muscles spoke of his restrained power, the faint tickle of his breath, the dampness between her legs-
I could smell you on him a mile away.
Violent shudders overtook her. Elena lost her hold on the glass; it was only Damon’s catlike reflexes that prevented another mess. Still shivering, Elena hugged herself and tried not to think. The images came unbidden. Blood spattering the living room seemed brighter in her memory. So did the cold, cruel look in Stefan’s then-grey eyes as he compelled her to keep his company. Bodies everywhere, a man singing off-key, the girl tripping over her corpse friend as she crawled to Stefan . . .
Elena only distantly noted Damon’s hands on her arms. Whatever he was asking, she wasn’t hearing it. Memories were drowning out the real world, flooding her and threatening to pull her down and fill her lungs until she ceased to breathe.
Reality came in brief flashes of clarity. Damon coaxing her to lie down. A pillow being clutched to her face as Elena gasped tearlessly. The lights dimming in her periphery.
Somewhere amongst Damon’s soft words and the dizzying swarm of shock-induced memories, the world around Elena blurred to black.
The sound of a door closing roused Elena. She tried to sit up, but her exhaustion and the comfort of Damon’s bed weighed her down. Her eyes managed to open to twin slits in time to see a dark figure slip into the adjoining bathroom.
Was it Damon or Stefan, she wondered groggily. The wherewithal to panic was muted. Too much of that had occurred in one day. Elena doubted she had even an ounce of adrenaline left.
Water spattering on tile told of the shower starting. Breathing a soft sigh of relief, Elena allowed herself to drift off again.
She was startled awake when someone crawled onto the bed beside her. Darkness blinded her-how late was it, anyway?-so she attempted to roll over and confirm who it was.
Damon’s hand stopped her by the shoulder and pushed her back down. Elena flopped to the pillows, feeling as though she’d fallen onto a puffy black cloud. Irate but not in the mood to argue (much), Elena murmured, “What happened?”
Calmly, Damon replied, “You went into shock. Then you fell asleep. I got rid of the bodies. Showered.” After a lengthy pause, he said, “Good night.”
This time when she sat up, he didn’t try to stop her. As her eyes adjusted to the room cloaked in night, Elena began to make out Damon’s body stretched out atop the covers, clad in nothing but a wet towel and one arm draped over his eyes.
Instinct made Elena push his arm away. Oddly, Damon did not resist. Squinting, Elena saw there was a greyish blotch just beneath his left eye. Even as she stared it was fading to flesh color. Soundlessly she touched it, questioning with her eyes.
Damon responded in kind, his blue-shaded-slate gaze staring directly back until she understood.
Sometime between her losing consciousness and Damon returning, he’d had a confrontation with Stefan. Perhaps it had started with words, but it had certainly ended physically.
Part of Elena worried for the tentatively humane Stefan that was still buried deep within, but the majority of her focus was on the man beneath her. She had gone against his advice by coming to the Salvatore place and learned the hard way why he had prevented her from doing so for such a long time. Even as Damon angered her for his over-protectiveness, he was still looking out for her. This was one of the times Elena could concede he had been right to do so, even if she continued to resist the offer for a memory wipe.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Damon’s mouth twitched in not quite a smile. “Ditto.”
Before he had the chance to turn her down, Elena rested her head against his bare chest and curled up half on top of him. He was still damp and the towel was soaking through her borrowed shirt, but Elena felt better all the same.
Damon inhaled as though to say something, apparently thought better of it, and placed his hand at her head, petting her hair in a subdued manner.
Elena wrapped her arm around his waist. “I’m glad you didn’t leave me,” she told him.
“You weren’t supposed to be here,” was Damon’s response.
Quieting, Elena tried to think of a rebuttal. She had none. “You were right.”
Damon snorted. “Call out the cavalry. A first from the stubborn Elena Gilbert.” Elena scowled and smacked his side. If anything, her response was more like a kitten trying to hiss and failing, judging from Damon’s snicker.
“I’m not that stubborn,” she insisted.
A bark of laughter was her response. It only fueled Elena’s irritation. When she went to smack him again, Damon caught her hand. To her surprise, he twined their fingers together instead of pushing her back and lowered their hands, not once letting go. “You wouldn’t be as much fun if I didn’t want to shake some sense into you half the time.”
His clasp was warm, Elena couldn’t help noticing. She gave a barely perceptible squeeze back. “Sometimes I think the same,” she admitted. When she raised her head, she found Damon’s expression soft in that strangely intense way only he could pull off.
Wryly, he said, “It’s a shame I only get you into my bed under horrible circumstances.”
Elena rolled her eyes. “It’s not that bad.”
“Don’t play tough. It’s bad.”
A flash of Stefan’s chilling smile came to her again. This time Elena only shuddered; she didn’t lose her mind.
In a small voice, she said, “He broke me, Damon.”
“No,” he said with abrupt anger. Elena began to draw back, but Damon kept his arm tightly around her. Nuzzling near her ear, he said, “He got to you. But he didn’t break you.”
Elena’s eyes stung, but she managed not to cry. “Let’s not play tough.”
“I’m serious,” Damon stated, his voice still hot. “If you were broken, you wouldn’t still be here, in this house. If you were the type to break, you wouldn’t have stupidly come here in the first place and come inside. You’re stronger than that.” One of his thumbs brushed beneath her eye, catching a trembling tear. “It takes more than my baby brother trying to reenact some godawful horror movie to break you.”
Trying not to remember, Elena focused on the latter part of his speech. “Horror movie?”
Damon released her hand to wave it grandiosely. “The bodies everywhere? The blood? All women and no men?”
“One man,” she corrected him uncomfortably.
“Making a girl his puppet?” Damon continued as if he hadn’t heard her. “It’s all part of some stupid Hollywood horror movie catering to your conventional wannabe hard high schooler.”
Had it been anyone other than Stefan doing it, Elena might have seen the humor in it. She couldn’t. “It’s not funny, Damon,” she sighed.
Annoyed once again, he snapped, “I’m not trying to be funny. I’m making a point.”
Elena didn’t want to talk about it anymore, but she doubted Damon’s stance. The middle ground seemed to be the only appropriate way to go, so she hugged him and kept quiet. Beneath her hand she could feel Damon’s heart beating, much quicker than normal, and with the slight arrhythmia she remembered from their “training” session.
Gradually, as they lay in the dark, his heart calmed. Time passed in a manner she couldn’t keep track of. The room seemed to grow steadily darker and her eyes continued to adjust. Looking around didn’t help her, since vampires didn’t seem to have much use for alarm clocks and Elena’s phone was still in her car.
She hoped no one had been trying to get hold of her, or if they had, that they weren’t too worried. It occurred to her to check, but that meant walking down the halls where Stefan could be lurking around any corner, and Elena wasn’t quite ready yet.
Damon’s chest heaved as he sighed restlessly. For whatever reason, Elena was very aware of his muscles moving beneath her hand. Without stopping to think, she rubbed her hand over him slowly.
In a tone that mixed playfulness with suspicion, Damon said, “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Nothing,” said Elena. She didn’t stop, closing her eyes to better enjoy his warmth.
Catching her hand, Damon said, “Stop.”
Pushing herself up, Elena shifted so she was half on him. Her hair fell around his face in a curtain, giving him little choice but to look at her.
Quietly, she said, “I know you love me.”
Unease flickered in Damon’s eyes a split second. “Considering how I confessed on my deathbed, I’d certainly hope so.”
“So why have you kept rejecting me?”
There. It was out in the open now. Elena wasn’t sure where the courage had come from-she certainly hadn’t had it before coming here-but one way or another she had to get her answer now.
The look on Damon’s face said it was the last topic he wanted to be speaking about. Elena wasn’t about to let it go so easily, so she began preparing herself to bully him into it.
In a complete twist, he told her in a low voice, “I compelled you once.”
Elena frowned. “Don’t change the subject.”
“I’m not,” he said. Grim lines crossed his face, as though he were steeling himself for what he had to say. “I compelled you once, a while back. You didn’t want me to say it, but I had to tell you I loved you.” Elena stilled above him, dimly wondering what her expression was like. His voice dropping to breathy murmurs, Damon continued, “Just to get it off my chest. It was driving me crazy, like it was going to erupt.”
“So?” Elena whispered.
Reaching up to brush his knuckles against her cheek, Damon said, “I told you then. It’s because I love you I can’t be selfish with you.”
How could she tell him? Elena lowered her eyes, wrestling with her words. Damon’s hand fell away from her face. This time it was she who grabbed him by the hand, her fingers wrapped around his palm and her thumb on his wrist.
Unable to meet his eyes, she confessed, “I knew.”
She could have sworn Damon had a skip in his pulse. Not the occasional arrhythmia, an absolute momentary stop in his heartbeat. Inhaling sharply, she reminded him, “I died, Damon. This house isn’t mine and old . . . compulsions . . . didn’t hold anymore.”
She threaded their fingers together again, forcing herself to meet his eyes. His usual intensity had turned to chaotic confusion and a spark of something that, were it anyone other than Damon, Elena would have easily named fear.
What did he have to fear? She’d already given Damon a part of her she reserved for very few. The only reason they had stopped was because he chose to. Elena had never wanted to, and for days, weeks, had her mind filled with Damon and Damon’s embrace and Damon’s fiery passion between her legs. Incomplete passion, because Elena craved more.
She leaned down to rest her forehead against his, her heart beating so wildly she could feel every pulse shake her. “We were never a mistake that night. And you were everything but selfish.”
Something snapped loose in Damon’s gaze in that instant. Before Elena could completely comprehend what was happening, he had pulled her down for the most desperately tender kiss she’d ever had. Only their lips touched, but she was alight with the fire she’d so sorely missed.
The connection broke for a few moments, enough time for Damon to push her hair back and look at her in that tortured way he was so good at. “How was I supposed to resist you much longer?” he breathed.
“Shut up,” Elena muttered before rekindling the fire. Damon’s mouth curled into a slight smile against hers, and then they were lost in the kiss. Elena shifted so she was straddling Damon’s waist. The towel was still covering him, barely, but it couldn’t hide the hardness pressing insistently against her inner thigh. She pushed away, amused in spite of herself. “You wore a towel to bed to resist me?”
“I’d hoped I would be wrong,” he admitted, glancing down with that glimmer of hunger. “You didn’t fight about putting pants on.”
Elena opened her mouth to retort, but was only able to emit a small yelp as his hands moved frighteningly fast, grasping her hips and yanking her bodily up. Her hands flew up to grasp something, anything, and all she could find was the headboard at eye level. Hastily, she said, “Damon. Wait. No. You already gave me-”
“And you liked it,” he cut her off. Glancing down, Elena noticed he was observing her panties approvingly. “I’ll try to be gentle,” he said absent mindedly as he hooked the crotch of the cloth and pulled it to the side. “I like lace.”
All the adrenaline Elena thought she’d lost was shooting through her now. She didn’t want his mouth, she wanted him inside-
At least, she thought that until he guided her down, his hand against the small of her back, and began planting feathery kisses against her. When Elena whimpered in frustration, he said, “If you really do want this, you’re going to come so much you’ll thank me for holding out.” With that his tongue was on her clit, rubbing hot and slick until Elena moaned. This time she was free to express herself, she realized.
Indeed, Damon didn’t threaten to stop if she didn’t keep quiet. He urged her down more, his breath caught as he pleasured her. The bit of her underwear pulled aside was already damp, and the more Damon worked her over, the wetter she became. Elena pressed her forehead against the headboard, gripping until her knuckles went white. Her thighs tensed against each side of his head.
Damon’s hand slid from her back to her side, gripping her hip as he tirelessly made her trickle until his face, her legs, and from the feel of it the sheets were soaked. Words melted into senseless bright colors behind Elena’s eyelids. She found herself gasping for breath, the sensation nearly too wonderful for her to stand.
Soothingly, Damon rubbed her hips, his hand deviously sliding beneath her. When he started sucking on her hyper-sensitive clit, he also daringly slid a couple fingers inside until he touched that perfect spot.
Elena’s back arched sharply, a startled shout escaping her as Damon’s mouth and fingers picked up the tempo. It was difficult not to either grind against him or pull away. Only a sliver of the sanity he hadn’t stolen with his tongue kept her relatively still as the pressure within built and built. For just a second Elena opened her eyes long enough to catch him watching her, fierce hunger and deviousness making his eyes shine brightly at her in the dark.
That made it too much. Elena cried out loudly as the sweet blanket of her first orgasm enveloped her. As with last time, Damon refused to stop. Now that he’d found the accurate mix of inner and outer stimulation, he kept at it until she came again and again and again, until Elena lost count and was covered in a thin sheen of sweat and the sheets were so wet she wildly thought she was going to drown him.
The barest strength kept her upright when Damon pulled his fingers away and eased her down so she could take a moment to breathe. Elena’s calves were cramping and her arms were wobbly and near useless in keeping her hovering above him.
Damon licked at his lips, his mouth and chin glistening with evidence of her intense orgasms. His smile faded into something a little more serious. Elena knew then he was going to try talking her out of it again.
Not this time.
Elena reached back and grabbed the towel, yanking it loose before Damon thought to stop her. Agitated, she glared at him when he brought her hands forward, kissing her palms with a solemn expression. “Think about it, Elena.”
Impatiently, she bit, “I’ve done nothing but think about it. Your cock needs to be in me.” With that she yanked a hand free, reached down and behind her once again and gave him a firm squeeze. This is what I want, she wanted to yell.
Any reserves Damon had seemed to evaporate when she grabbed him. “Dirty girl,” he whispered excitedly. Abruptly he sat up and flipped her down onto her back in the same motion. Elena landed partially on her arm but quickly fixed that problem, determined not to let that bit of carelessness get in her way.
Finally, Damon seemed to be on the same page as her. The towel was rudely thrown away, landing with a sad thump elsewhere in the room. While she had the chance, Elena kicked her way free of her useless panties. Damon aided her with the shirt. It sounded like he tore it in the process-but it was his shirt and not on Elena’s list of priorities.
For the first time, they were naked together.
When Damon had seen her bare breasts last time, he had paused to admire. Now he seemed more intent on admiring by touch. He clasped Elena’s hands and pinned them above her head, and then lowered himself to kiss her. Elena opened her mouth to him and curved her back until even a slip of paper couldn’t slide between them, her moan muffled by Damon’s lips. His cock was hard and hot against her pelvis, slipping easily when he ground against Elena as her earlier arousal acted as lubricant. Elena bent her knees so he could rub against her clit. The resulting friction was enough for her to squirm violently, protesting against his kisses that this was not enough; it was too slow.
Damon ducked down to nuzzle her neck, murmuring words Elena was too blissfully dizzy with need to make out. Until he bit her. She shrieked, a different frightened sound, until she realized it was a painless, fangless bite.
He stopped, looking up guiltily. “Elena,” he started, seeming unsure how to continue.
She lay beneath him, trying to calm her racing heart back to merely excited. He’d been caught up in the moment, she told herself. That had been a normal, human bite. Damon would never bite her as a vampire again. He was past that.
This Damon cared about her.
Elena pulled one of his hands to her mouth, her eyes unwavering from his as she bit down. She’d done the same the last time at her house, trying to keep quiet.
Relief didn’t completely drown out his guilt. Damon apologized with several kisses, each growing rapidly more heated. Soon enough he was hard again, but he was obviously much more hesitant.
“Damon,” Elena gasped between kisses. “I told you. I need it . . .”
He cupped her face in both hands, quieting her with open mouth and tongue. Just as Elena was melting into it, he stopped and told her, “It’s yours, Elena. Take it.”
It wasn’t that Elena was a stranger to taking charge in the bedroom. When she’d been with Matt, she’d become used to it, and with Stefan she had done it often enough. But for some reason, Damon made her nervous. Maybe it was that he was notably older. Or rather, exceedingly experienced.
When she didn’t react immediately, Damon leaned so they were nearly kissing again, his breath caressing her and his eyes dark and blue and intense as he murmured, “Take it, Elena.”
That decided her. Elena reached between them and wrapped her fingers around his cock, stroking him and watching as, this time, Damon allowed himself to get carried away. A pleased hum escaped him. Encouraged, Elena tightened her grip a fraction and continued, growing more excited and giddy as Damon’s struggle not to lose control to her hand. His hardness was hot and throbbing against her. The intensity of his gaze faded as his eyes closed.
Exhaling slowly, Elena slid herself down and guided Damon inside of her.
Despite his words, Damon’s impatience won out. He finished the job for her by thrusting until he was in deep, filling Elena with his cock the way she’d fantasized and even rubbed herself to over the weeks.
Even Damon seemed at a loss for words. He rested his elbows on either side of her head, trapping Elena so she had to look him in the eye. Huskily, he said, “This is what you thought of?”
“Every night,” she assured him, grinding against him. Damon rocked back in response, more pleased and smug than she’d ever seen him. In response, Elena raised her legs until he got the hint and hooked them over his shoulders. He could definitely go deeper then, Elena realized loudly and wordlessly.
“You stubborn girl,” he murmured. As Elena fumbled for a response, he pulled out and thrust into her again, her arousal squirting from her when he did so. Words were useless, she decided as she clung to his neck, grinding her hips to meet his strokes. The familiar sensation of a building orgasm welled up within her, and his cock was hitting the right spot, but there was something holding Elena back. Each cry and shout matched Damon’s thrusts, but the release was just barely out of her reach.
Part of her was selfishly afraid Damon would finish first. Elena’s fingernails bit into his shoulders.
Then he was wrestling one of her hands free, guiding her down between their bodies until her fingers touched her swollen clit. Damon helped Elena rub herself, his eyes glinting when she whimpered.
“I told you, Elena,” he said deviously between thrusts. “I’m going to make you come so much.”
It was too much, touching herself while he made her soak the sheets with every move of his hips. Damon pressed down, driving his cock into her faster, watching her with growing lust as she rubbed her clit. Flushed, needing to come, Elena forced herself to keep her hand working where it was, even when it became too much for her to handle. She writhed under Damon and screamed something acutely resembling his name as she came. Elena had to stop touching herself then, she couldn’t take more, but Damon determinedly picked up right where she left off, ignoring her weak-willed protests as each resulting orgasm turned her “No, it’s too much” into mindless repetitions of, “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop!”
Every nerve was aflame with pleasure as Damon obeyed. Elena’s hair was damp under her from the spreading wetness resulting from her repeated coming. At one point it occurred to Elena that, as a vampire, Damon probably could go on for hours. She’d be a useless puddle of orgasms.
Damon did finish, but not in the way she expected. He was so close when it happened, nearly crushing her beneath him when he suddenly groaned and slipped out of her. Startled, Elena could only wrap both arms around his neck and hold tight as his cock throbbed a moment against her stomach before Damon came.
His skin was slippery to the touch, he was panting much harder than she would have thought needed, and he was heavy on her. Still Elena held on and closed her eyes; certain she could fall asleep this way.
Slowly, gingerly, Damon rolled off her and flopped to the giant mattress. Elena waited a few beats to make sure she was able to move, and then moved to curl up with him. Damon welcomed her with open arms, his skin rapidly cooling but comforting nonetheless.
Once he had his breath back, Damon mused, “Stefan probably heard us.” He glanced at her slyly. “Don’t you think?”
“Let’s hope,” Elena murmured drowsily.
The air seemed to shift suddenly, or maybe it was Damon stiffening. Or maybe it was Elena’s own imagination. Whatever it was, it disappeared and allowed her to be pulled to sweet, Stefanless dreams for the night.
Utterly unaware to Elena, Damon remained wide awake and disturbed.