A/N: This is super short, just a prologue into a smutty, but plot-driven and romantic Damon/Elena fic. Basically, I don't really write without giving my readers a preview of what the story is first, so I can know if they like it. So PLEASE! If you don't give kudos/reviews and you like the story, I won't continue because I won't know if anyone even likes it!

xx

Jesus Christ, she had lost her mind.

That was the only explanation for...this, this whatever it was that she was currently feeling for Damon. She was going completely mental, losing anything and everything that she had ever taken pride in about herself - the fact that she had been able to resist Damon, that he didn't have a hold on her like he did on other girls, like she could look into his eyes and say "no", those deep, beautiful, endless eyes...

Shit.

It wasn't fair, honestly. Not in the least. All of the days she had spent with Damon when Stefan was gone, just being with him, away from all the drama and disdain of their typical daily lives; all of those days, she hadn't felt anything other than affection. He had been sort of a lost little puppy to her, someone who she could fix, someone who she could take up and help make a better person, bring out the good in him. And she had done that. Damon had proved to her that there was good in him countless times, sacrificing practically his entire life for her, for her friends, for the people she loved and cared about, and for the people he loved - because, no matter how much he liked to deny it, he loved more than anyone she had ever met. She knew it, had seen it with her own eyes. When Damon loved, he loved with his entire being, and that was all he had ever known.

No, she hadn't felt anything other than a fondness for him until it was far too late, until Stefan had returned, had come back to being herStefan (although she didn't think he could really be hers again, not the way he had been before). Stefan had come back and despite everything she had loved him, loved him like she did the first time they met, loved him even when he was doing everything in his power to make him hate her.

And then...Damon. He just kinda crept up on her.

It was the roadtrip. She blames the entire fucking thing, everything that was happening to her and the giant whirlwind of emotions that was fluttering around her stomach on the roadtrip. What else could it be? They became friends on a roadtrip (she can't deny it, Atlanta was the most fun she had had in basically her entire high school life. Pathetic? Probably, but she's not one to lie. Not anymore).

So, yeah. The road trip kinda brought the feelings forward, she understands that. Flights alone with Damon? A dark, secluded motel room? Damon without his shirt on? Recipe for disaster, she's the first one to admit it. But none of those things prepared her for the car ride home, none of what she was feeling should have caused certain...events to transpire. It wasn't right. It just wasn't.

Yeah, she was definitely losing her mind.

xx

The room was quiet and dark, the only light coming from the flickering candles in the corner. It takes her a second to realize where she is, what she's doing there, why she even entered the room in the first place, but all of a sudden she realizes that it's Damon's room, and her purpose there couldn't be any more clear.

It's been happening for months now. Everything they've been through, everything they've done together, all the kisses and the eye-fucking and the sexual tension, everything's been building to this moment here, and she's shocked it took her so long to see the truth behind it. Bonnie and Caroline saw it months ago, along with Alaric, and Jenna, and probably even Jeremy. Stefan saw it, Stefan pushed her into it, made her try and figure things out with that damn road trip - and she has figured it out. She knows now. She understands.

And she's so done with fighting.

He's sound asleep in his bed, and she walks over with extra-soft feet to try and ensure that he doesn't awake. Elena wants to surprise him like he's surprised her, like he surprises her every day that she knows him. And so when she leans over and kisses him, sweetly, innocently, she can't help but smile at his start.

"What are you doing?" His voice is thick with confusion and sleep, but she can still hear the desire there, sense his want, and it's enough to keep her going without blushing or stuttering. "Elena, you don't have to...are you sure?" he asks, and when she gives him coy smile his usual easy grin slides onto his face, the sleep slowly starting to leave his eyes. "You know, once you get into this bed there's no stopping me."

"I'm planning on it," she replies, mischief dancing in her eyes, and she lets out a girlish shriek when he pulls her into bed, lips covering hers with vampire quickness, nothing but want and love, pure love left in his kisses. This is good. This is right, and she hates herself for taking so long to realize it. Because what could she have been afraid of? That he would hurt her? She doesn't think he's capable of doing anything to hurt her, not anymore, not after this. She's the one who could hurt him, could break him into pieces at the snap of her fingers...

But no. Elena knows she won't be able to hurt him ever again, couldn't even if she tried. All they've done, all they've known for so long has been pain, playing an ongoing game of cat and mouse, desperately trying to see who can make the other bleed the most. And now, in his bed, she can't remember what pain feels like, doesn't know anything than the gentle caresses of his hands, the insistent pressure of his lips on hers, on her neck, traveling further and further down, all she knows and will ever know is the pleasure that he's giving her when his lips, his fingers, his tongue begin to do something to her which Stefan and Matt never did, not ever, and she loves him, and...

Fuck.

Elena wakes with a start, knowing what she must look like in the dim light of the car right now. She can feel the heat in her cheeks, her face an entirely unappealing shade of red, and knows that Damon must be able to hear her heart beating extraordinarily loud - in the tense silence, she can hear it herself. Her hair is mussed and she's sweating, and then there's the rather telling evidence that she knows for a fact she was moaning before she woke up.

And then there's the look on Damon's face, the deer-in-headlights, what-the-hell-just-happened look as he stares at her, not even glancing towards the road, the look that exactly mirrored the one on his face in her dream. He's confused and concerned and curious and afraid, but there's that same desire there, the desire that he holds in his eyes every time he looks at her. She's seen in from him time and time again, but now she finds she can't bring herself to look at it, not after what her brain just conjured up. So she turns away, staring out the window and trying to bring herself to relax, that there's no way he could know what she was dreaming about, that she's find, they're fine, nothing happened, and then he speaks and her heart drops.

"You said my name," he says matter-of-factly, no hint of emotion in his voice other than confusion.

She immediately whips her head to the back seat, relieved to see that Jeremy is sleeping. At least she can take comfort in that, in the fact that her little brother didn't have to overhear her having an incredibly sexual dream about her ex-boyfriend's brother. After him walking in - or out, she supposes, since they weren't exactly in the most private of places - on the two of them at the motel, that was the last thing that they needed.

And then she realizes that Damon is still staring at her expectantly, waiting for her to explain herself, give him an explanation, help him understand what it was that just happened, and she finds herself scrambling for ideas. What could she say? "Yes, Damon, I had a dream that we were about to fuck in your bed after a kiss that I initiated while you were sleeping, and I was wearing slinky black lingerie and you were wearing nothing, and oh, did I mention that you were amazing? and I think we should act it out sometime. What do you think?"

Yeah, not going to happen.

But he was still staring her with that look in his eyes, the one that made her feel naked and exposed, and she decided to simply say the first thing that came to her mind. "Are you sure? Because I was dreaming about deamons, so..." And holy shit, mother of God, if that isn't the worst excuse anyone has ever used in their entire life.

Damon knows it, too (of course he does, he's not an idiot - anyone with a brain would be able to tell that that was a desperate lie, and Damon was too smart by half). "You said my name." he repeats, this time more to himself than to her, and she decides that, clearly, her best option is just to close her eyes, try to sleep, and pretend that none of this weird shit happened, that she never dreamed anything at all, that this is all a dream and Damon will never have to know that her subconscious want him in her pants.

So she closes her eyes, but no way in hell does she sleep. Elena doesn't know if she'll ever be able to sleep properly again.