Love, Lust, Hate, Desire
Disclaimer: The words are mine. The characters are not. Please respect the commercial rights of the creators/original owners.
"Damon, I don't understand why you insisted on dragging me here!"
Meredith was still complaining. Less than two hours earlier, Damon had shown up at her apartment, garment bag in hand, and insisted she invite him in. She had refused. He'd gotten annoyingly loud in retaliation. One of her elderly, and age-appropriately nosy, neighbors walked by giving him a scandalous once over and proclaiming "Doctor, if he was mine, a lover's quarrel would be the last thing we'd get into."
Rolling her eyes in exasperation at Damon's arrogant response of "I know, right?" she had capitulated and asked him to come inside where they could continue their conversation in private.
Upon closing the apartment door, she was promptly ushered into her room, where he'd opened the garment bag to show off an elegantly gorgeous vintage Dior, with designer shoes to match. Stretching out on her bed uninvited he had bossily informed her she would accompany him to the latest Mikaelson fancy affair.
"But I wasn't invited, and I'm on call tonight and I don't want to go with you!"
"Well, my usual partner in crime is no longer around. Tag, you're it!"
She had softened a little, knowing how much he missed Alaric. The two of them usually tackled these vampire get-together events as a team and she recognized that he felt a little lost under the patronizing façade. She missed Alaric too. His death months ago still affected her in unguarded moments, for though they hadn't had a lot of time together, she cared for him, might have eventually grown to love him. Damon had pounced, urging her to change and do something with her hair and makeup, because he needed to preserve a certain standard when it came to the women he paraded around on his arm.
Shaking her head with a half-smile, she had gathered the dress, appropriate lingerie and purposefully ignored him when he informed her, with a decidedly lecherous wink, that he wouldn't mind if she wanted to change in his presence.
She was done in record time, not because of Damon's impatience, but because that was her way. Damon insisted on a quick drink before they left, and she indulged him once more, partly because she knew in this mood he wouldn't accept a refusal, but also because she felt she would need one to get through the night
"Stop griping, Mere. You never get out; I'm doing you a favor here."
"Fine, I'll stop nagging. You behave, okay? I don't want any trouble tonight, supernatural or otherwise." She only hoped the true reason for her reluctance in attending this elaborate social function, in fact any kind of function hosted at the Mikaelson home, would not be exposed.
Annoyed by her laughter at his unconvincing innocent look, Damon led Meredith into the magnificent ballroom with a frown on his otherwise flawless features.
Elijah descended the stairs surrounded by an air of irritation. He was not in the mood for his brother's antics, but he knew better than to defy Niklaus by failing to show his face. The family was to be presented as a solid unit. It was a farce, and everyone who mattered was well aware of the fact.
Halfway down the staircase, he let his gaze skim the room and faltered as his eyes latched on to a lone figure by the bar. She looked breathtakingly beautiful, the dress hugging her slender figure like a lover, covering her from wrist to throat. He caught a hint of well-muscled, shapely leg as she shifted, revealing a slit nearly up to her hip, quite the stark contrast to the demure first impression. Her hair was swept up into an intricate pattern with a hint of messy curls that simply begged him to release the pins and run his fingers through its exquisite mass.
Shaking free of his momentary flight of fancy, Elijah continued into the ballroom, stopping every few steps to acknowledge an acquaintance.
Dissatisfied with her current situation, Meredith swirled her drink around in her glass. Damon had slipped away; leaving her to her own devices, short moments after Stefan and Elena arrived. She wasn't in the mood to get drunk at a fancy party. She wasn't in the mood for people. All she wanted was to curl up on the couch with ice cream, a bottle of red and a good action thriller. At least in her own home she ran no risk of running into Him.
Turning around to survey the ballroom, hoping to catch a glimpse of her date, Meredith's gaze collided with that of the one person she wanted to avoid. Elijah Mikaelson, in all his glory, was staring at her. And he kept right on staring until she started to blush. Then he winked and turned his attention back to Mayor Lockwood like Meredith's presence in his home had absolutely no effect on him at all. Gulping down the last of her drink she fled outside, detesting the insecurity she felt.
Unable to focus on Carol Lockwood and her mundane chatter, Elijah made what he prayed to any god who would listen were the proper sounds in the proper places. He was eventually put out of his misery by Liz Forbes. He did not stick around to hear what she wanted to discuss with the Mayor. He didn't care.
He followed her scent outside, that unique mix of something dark, forbidden and the sterile odor of anti-septic that enticed him so. Ever since the morning she had sneaked out of the motel room they shared he had yearned for her. Back then they didn't have a clue about the other's identity. She was Meredith, not Doctor Fell, descendant of a Mystic Falls founding family and hereditary vampire hunter. He was simply Elijah, not the Original vampire Elijah Mikaelson who had lived for a thousand plus years, who had run for his life almost all that time.
To his utter surprise, he had found her here, in this town in the place he called home back in his human days. It was not the happy reunion he had imagined. She had learned who and what he was, and it had been a stake instead of a kiss that welcomed him. He had disarmed her, walked away, and that was that.
Except, she haunted him, the memories of her haunted him. Like a fire in his blood, she consumed him and he had to learn everything there was to know about her. So he stalked her like the predator he was, learned her routines, her favorite places, kept watch on her. To protect her, to keep her safe he told himself. He studied her family history, was fairly certain he knew it better than she did. When Rebekah asked "why" he told her it was always advantageous to know the enemy inside out. His baby sister had left the matter alone. At least, that's what he thought, but a few days later Meredith's work schedule for the next month had been on his desk along with a copy of her personal appointment book.
Now, finally, after months, she was in his domain, giving him home ground advantage for whatever it might be worth. He tracked her along the winding paths, both relieved and anxious when it became apparent where he would find her. Relieved, because he was glad of the opportunity to have her completely alone this far away from the party, anxious because he didn't like the idea of her alone and vulnerable in the dark. He knew better than most the dangers lurking in the night.
She had been a fool to come here tonight, to think she'd be able to ignore the effect he had on her, even when they were separated by a room full of people. It had been the same the first night they met. Totally against her nature and better judgment, she had been unable to resist him, recklessly jumping into his arms and his bed, not for one moment pausing to consider the emotional aftermath. She had always assumed one night stands were easy and without complications. Her one and only participation in such an event proved to be an education in the opposite.
She knew he watched her, stalked her. It unnerved her, vexed her, and yet she hadn't called him out on it. She reasoned that doing so would only draw more unwanted attention to herself, but deep down she knew there was a part of her that reveled in the knowledge that he couldn't let go of her completely. This was insane! They had no hold on each other, had made no promises, no pacts, were little more than mutual victims of their own lustful behavior.
"We should stop meeting like this, all dressed up in the dark." His breath caressed her ear, sending shivers down her spine.
"Nothing good comes of it." Her voice wasn't as steady as she had wanted it to be.
Catching her chin between his fingers, he tilted her head back, regarding her closely with a small frown. "Is that truly how you feel?"
"Don't you feel that way?" she challenged.
"My dear Meredith, no. Our previous meeting such as this happens to be a favorite memory of mine. It pains me that you don't regard it in the same light. Can you honestly say it was of so little significance to you?"
She didn't answer.
Taking her silence as a good omen, Elijah sat down on the opposite end of the stone bench.
After a while, "Why did you leave without saying goodbye?"
"You want to know why? Because I didn't like the feeling of being cast in the role of adulteress, especially since the only promise we made that night consisted of a confirmation of our status as two unattached, single, consenting adults."
"I fear I don't follow."
"Let me enlighten you. I was about to wake you up, suggest breakfast, when you turned in your sleep, pulled me closer and called me by another woman's name, confirming the lie I knew you to be guilty of in the back of my mind. Tell me, where is Katerina tonight?"
Whatever she was expecting from him, the guilty expression on his face was not among the top three.
"So, she's real then."
Surging to her feet, Meredith started marching away, only to find her path blocked by Elijah. Damned vampire speed, and high heels, and Damon Salvatore who made a horrible date slash bodyguard.
"Meredith, I can explain."
"You owe me nothing!"
Closing an iron grip around her wrists when she attempted to flee from him once more, Elijah waited patiently for Meredith to realize she was fighting a losing battle.
She knew she couldn't get away from him; her best moves could never measure up to the sheer vampiric strength he possessed. As long as he desired her presence, he would not let her go and knowing it terrified her because she knew eventually he would wear down her resistance. It was a protective bubble around her, but she could already feel the tiny cracks under his advances and she was well aware he had not yet turned on his lethal charm.
"Our night meant nothing to me! If you're hoping for a repeat performance, I'm not interested and nothing you say or do can change my mind!"
Her words angered him. Elijah could not stand being lied to and this deception from her hurt all the more because he understood, in part, why she chose to deny her emotions.
"My dear, your vehement reactions suggest otherwise."
Revealing just a hint of the danger concealed beneath his immaculate suit, Elijah pulled her flush against his chest in a move too fast for the human eye to follow. Her quickening pulse beneath his fingers, the pounding of her heart in his ears, resulted in a predatory smile which would have scared anyone else.
"Do you hear your heart? Do you feel how it races, how the blood is rushing through your veins? I can. I can hear it, smell it, I can almost taste it. It tells me that your words are lies."
His voice was low, his breath a teasing caress on her skin.
"It's fear and loathing."
"Meredith, stop testing my patience or I will bloody well give you something to be afraid of."
"If you think you can threaten me into playing whore to your cheat when you have an itch that needs scratching at a time when your main squeeze isn't around, you are sadly mistaken! I think more of myself than that, Mr. Mikaelson."
"Katerina Petrova is history, of the ancient variety. I give you my word, Meredith Fell. She meant something to me once, but not anymore."
Opening her mouth to reject his statement, Meredith is interrupted by the exasperated Original guiding her hand to his very evident arousal, crudely rocking his hips against her touch.
"You and you alone, are responsible for this. Not just in this instance, but every single time I get lost in thoughts of you, in memories of what it feels and sounds like to be on top of you, inside you. When I can't stand it and have no other choice but to take care of this need for you all on my own, it's your face in my mind and your name on my lips."
Sinking in that possessive, predatory gaze of his, Meredith found she was unable to move, breathe or think and was definitely incapable of being offended by his admission. Under the circumstances, she found it mildly arousing, a fact she would admit to nobody else than the man who was responsible for frying her brain, and to him only under duress.
Meredith knew he was going to kiss her, knew she was an idiot for wanting it, for wanting to believe him. He was giving her plenty of opportunity to step back, turn him down, shut him out and be on her way. She didn't do any of those things. As Elijah lowered his head, her eyes closed in anticipation, her pent up breath releasing as he brushed his lips over hers once, then twice.
Taking he reaction as an invitation, he swept his tongue into her mouth, teasing her, coaxing her into a slow, sensual battle. She let out a soft moan as he deepened the kiss, thoroughly exploring the cavity of her mouth, gently sucking on her tongue before biting down lightly.
Sliding her hands up his chest and into his hair, she pressed her lips to his hungrily. There was nothing gentle about this kiss. In an intense battle for dominance, their hands were everywhere, their mutual explorations driving each other into delirium. Growling, Elijah whispered, "Do you have any notion of the number of ways I've taken you in my imagination?"
"Shut up and show me."
He was a breath away from taking her right there in the garden, like the abomination he pretended so hard not to be. She made his head swim, he couldn't focus, his world reduced to the burning, blinding need to be inside her, no matter the consequences, or that little point where he still wasn't sure she believed she was the only one for him now.
Sanity prevailed long enough for him to make it to his bedroom without bumping into any of the guests and he had her pinned against the door before it was fully closed.
"Are you sure about this, Meredith?"
The gentleman bred into his bones demanded he ask the question, the monster beneath the surface snapped and strained against his control, demanding he take what belonged to it…him…them.
"It's a mistake."
The predator in him growled in protest, gnashed its teeth, paced in the confines of the Original's mind…and howled in triumph when her fingers dove into his hair to jerk his face closer for a retina-searing bruiser of a kiss that stole his breath, his reason and severed the last remaining tethers of his control like sun destroyed the morning mist.
"Elijah, I need you."
He had her undressed in a second, himself in two and in three she was underneath him, biting savagely into his shoulder to muffle her own moans as he drove into her heat. With just enough sanity left to hold back enough to prevent permanent damage to her fragile body, he possessed her, his hands bruising, his tongue and teeth blazing trails of red hot passion across her skin, drawing blood, lapping it up, feeding his own darkness.
She was drowning in him, reveled in the dark delights he delivered and met him, thrust for thrust, giving and taking the limit of what her human body could withstand. For the first time in her life, she felt whole.
It was not what he intended, this animallistic joining. He'd meant this time to be gentle and slow and completely about pleasuring her before himself, showing her just how important she was to him. It was not meant to be. Nothing less than this would do, even if they destroyed each other in the process.
Pounding in to her, teetering on the edge of oblivion, he raised his gaze. Their eyes met, held. His grew black, the veins beneath them standing out in dark relief. Exposing her neck, she dared him to feed his hunger. Unable, unwilling to resist and deny himself, he took what she offered.
Explosions went off in her mind. She arched beneath him, shattered and dragged him over the edge with her. He swore he could taste her completion in the added musky richness of her blood. The sounds from her lips were his name. Over and over again. He filled her mind, her body, her soul.
In that instant she was his world, his everything. All he could see, hear, smell and feel. She completed him. The man. The monster.
In the ballroom, over the music, Stefan distinctly heard the name of a certain Original being repeated in what could not be mistaken for anything other than pure ecstasy. He glanced around, gauged reactions, looked for his brother to see if he needed to intervene and prevent disaster.
Across the room, Damon choked on his drink. His face was pale, deadly so. His bluer than blue eyes predicted bloody murder. The tumbler of whiskey he held exploded beneath his iron grip. He made for the stairs, but swerved away at the last instant and disappeared into the night.
Kol high fived a bewildered Matt. Klaus looked like the cat that ate the canary and shot Caroline a suggestive, intimate look. She looked everywhere, except directly at him. Rebekah drank a silent, solitary toast. Finn's expression was scandalized, but not surprised. Sage pulled him aside, her intent clear to whomever paid them any mind.
Author's Note: Thank you for taking the time to read this, I appreciate it all the more because Melijah isn't a fandom ship. I had tons of fun writing this and I'd love to hear your opinion on it, if you have one you'd like to share.
