A/N: Merry Christmas, y'all! I hope you had a wonderful time, whether you spent it with someone or not. And I hope you'll have an amazing slip into 2016.
This year, I decided to participate in the DE Author to Author Fic Exchange and here is the prompt that gave the inspiration for this story:
"Elena ends up in 1864 when she goes into that deep slumber, somehow pulled into that era because of Damon's heartbroken despair. Katherine never existed, or did and it's after she's gone, or Elena drops into her body or whatever, your choice really. All I would love to see is an 1864 Christmas love story where Elena makes the holiday for 1864 Damon." by elizabeth85cec.
Now have yourself some nice holidays and here's a little read! I hope you enjoy it!
„I love you, too." The familiar voice, the warmth of his arms and the comfortable feeling of being loved beyond life filled her as the dim light slowly faded from her sight and she knew that this was the end, when suddenly a beam of an even brighter light pierced her eyes, causing her to blink and gasp before she found herself on the dirty ground of a forest, surrounded by leaves and trees.
She inhaled deeply, absorbing the air around her and somehow it tasted fresher, like a breeze of wind coming from the ocean.
It took her a moment to realize what had just happened. She was supposed to be gone. But when she looked down on herself, she recognized the dress she had pulled on earlier for the wedding, it was bloody, dirty and the fabric was torn in some places. Shifting her gaze further down, she caught a sight of her hands in the cold snow and pushed herself up and off of the ground. "What happened?" She asked herself loudly, immediately checking her environment for anyone who might have overheard her words – but nothing.
It seemed like she was standing on some kind of forest path in the middle of nowhere. Was this heaven? She wondered, furrowing perfectly shaped eyebrows into a soft frown.
And if so, what was she supposed to do?
But then she remembered fairy tales and Red Riding Hood and that the little girl was never supposed to leave the path, so that's what she did, she started following the broad forest path.
The snow beneath her bare feet was hard, but she could make out tracks in it. They were too slim to be those of a car, but there were too many for them to have been from a bike. And why would there be tracks of a bike in heaven anyway?
Her delicate feet stepped over the snow ground carefully until a bunch of three small cottages came into view. Loud voices could be heard, a man yelling and a woman, which screamed at the top of her lungs and suddenly, Elena reconsidered her choice to stay on the path, because that would have led her straight to the loud rambling of voices.
So her feet took her into a different direction, stepping over grass and into the forest until her foot got caught on something, her skin ripping open as she let out a scream of pain and surprise. She then felt something hard against her neck and darkness embraced her once more.
Another bright beam of light flashed before her eyes and the next thing she knew she found herself back on the dirt and leaves she had awoken earlier. What the hell had happened?
Grumbling in frustration, she scrambled back onto her feet, angrily stomping back onto the road, her eyes on her feet so she did not trip again. When suddenly a warm cloud of air hit her and as she glanced up, the dark nostrils of a horse met Elena's eyes, which now gawked open in surprise. Next to the horse was another one, and behind the two of them was a small horse-drawn carriage.
Elena blinked, falling a few steps back and away from the horse as she just stared at the sight in front of her. Suddenly, an all too familiar face peeked out of the carriage. "Emily." Elena gasped.
"Katherine?" The girl asked. But Elena immediately shook her head, stepping around the horse and nearing the window Emily was looking out through. "I'm Elena. Gilbert.." She tried to explain.
Emily gasped. "You're a time traveler." She whispered under her breath as she glanced at Elena from head to toe. And her words had Elena widening her eyes once more. "Quickly, you must get in." She choked, opening the door. "Please, miss." Her eyes were pleading.
Elena followed her request, climbing in.
"You were lucky." Emily hushed as Elena sat down opposite from her. "I am just on my way to the Salvatore Estate to.." But Elena cut her off.
"I know why.." She gulped softly. "For Katherine."
Emily tilted her head, glancing at the brunette in front of her. "So you know her? And you know her fate?"
"Yes." Elena nodded. "But what does this all mean for me?"
"Your arrival, Miss, has created a loop." Emily explained carefully. "This means, once you leave again, time will go back and no one is going to remember you were ever here."
Elena's eyebrows lifted, her head shaking slightly. "But…" She didn't understand. "You have to send me back!" Now it was Elena who was pleading with her.
"I am sorry, Miss Elena. But that's not my task." She shook her head. "You do not have to pretend you are Katherine, but it would be wise for you to live at the Salvatore's Estate.."
Elena couldn't believe it, her head shaking when the carriage passed the three cottages she had seen before. "I have to get back.." She mumbled, more to herself than to anyone else.
Emily dismissed her, turning to a big bag next to her, she stuck her hands in and tugged a long dress out of it. "You must get dressed." She handed Elena the dress. "Quickly." She said, nodding her head. She was right, of course, Elena could not stay in her dress, it would immediately give her away.
Once changed, Emily helped Elena getting rid of absolutely everything that could give away that she was not from this time, just in time, because the next thing that caught Elena's eyes was the Salvatore Estate. And the carriage made its way over there quickly.
Emily helped her out once they had stopped and at the head of the stairs, Damon and Stefan Salvatore were waiting patiently behind an elderly man. Next to them were three black workers and Elena swallowed as she realized what time it was she had landed in. The Salvatores had kept slaves.
Elena had never actually seen him before, but she instantly knew that this was their farther. He looked harsh and even though there was a small, forced smile on his face, Elena felt like she had to be very, very careful around him.
"You must be the young girl, whose parents have perished in the fire?" He raised his eyebrows at her, glancing down her slender frame. "Welcome." He simply stated. "This are my sons." At his word, Damon and Stefan stepped forward, dressed in soft white shirts that framed their well-built bodies perfectly. Damon wore a dark blue vest, which complimented his eyes, those beautiful eyes. Elena lost herself in them, feeling home for a moment as Damon lowered his gaze, took a hold of her hand and kissed it very gently. That's when his words rang in her ear. "You should have met me in 1864, you would have liked me." He had said those when he – and she – thought he was dying. It was the night of their first real kiss. She had pecked his lips so softly.
She wanted to slip her arms around his neck and kiss him, but this wasn't her Damon and she couldn't. She had to remember that, even though he was being this charming and sweet.
Damon's lips brushed over her hand briefly and Elena had to inhale deeply, but the corsage bit at her chest and the air got stuck in her lungs. How did anyone breathe in this? She wondered as Damon's eyes suddenly met hers again, distracting her from breathing all together. "May I ask your name?" Giuseppe wanted to know and Elena turned, nodding her head quickly. "Of course, I'm El-" But Emily cut her off. "Miss Gilbert!" She choked.
The three men in front of them frowned in irritation and Elena's cheek burned in embarrassment, of course, this was the 19th century.
After Giuseppe had given her a short tour of the house and the property, she had been escorted to her set of rooms by some of the black maids. Two alone had to help her up the stairs with that damn dress she was wearing while another two carried her luggage, or better said, Katherine's.
They had given her three rooms in total, a bathroom, far away from the standards she knew from home, but it would do, one room for Emily and a bedroom.
Emily was supposed to help her get ready for dinner. "Miss Elena, you have to be careful with what you say and how you act.." Emily said softly, stressing the last part, obviously trying not to upset her, though. She always seemed so scared of everything she said, especially if it was something that might not please Elena.
"I know." She sighed, rubbing her forehead carefully. "What day is it?"
"It's the 22th of December." Emily answered, helping her to straighten the dress she was wearing and fluff it back up. She looked at Elena and murmured. "You know him.. The older Salvatore brother.. I could see it in your eyes, Miss."
Elena's glance shifted in the mirror and she glanced at Emily, who was standing behind her. She was considering whether she could or could not tell her about Damon becoming a vampire and about their love for each other. "I don't." She finally answered, and even though Emily tried to hide it, Elena could make out the disbelief in her eyes.
But there was no more time for questions about Elena's real life when a knock sounded at her door and Emily went to open it while Elena combed her hair. There was nothing like conditioner or a hair dryer back in this time and so it fell in slight waves down her shoulders.
"Miss Elena, it's Mr. Salvatore." And Elena turned, looking back at Emily to ask, "Which one?"
Emily answered by opening the door fully and the raven haired human Damon came to sight. "Excuse me, Miss." He said politely, stepping into the room. "I am here to announce dinner to you." He said, and his fingers curled tightly around a piece of fabric, supposedly a hat he was holding. God, he was so nervous, so innocent, this was something Elena had barely ever seen on him.
She took a few steps forward and thought carefully about her following words. "Very well, Mr. Salvatore." She then offered him her arm and even though he looked a bit taken aback, he eventually slipped his strong one through hers and led her out of the room, Emily close behind them as they took their time getting down the stairs. Elena really had to practice walking in these clothes.
Once they were all seated at the table, food was served by the maids.
Elena sat across Damon, next to him Stefan and at the head was Giuseppe, who eyed his son's every movement warningly until he started talking. "Miss Gilbert, I take it you will be staying here for a bit longer, so I would gladly invite you to our Christmas Ball." He offered, pushing a forkful of potato between his lips and chewing quickly. Elena was unsure what to say, so she smiled weakly, "It would be my pleasure."
"All you need is an escort and someone who will teach you the dance." He continued, eyeing Elena and seeing her nod her head silently. She felt uncomfortable, but with his lack of empathy, he couldn't tell. "May I suggest Stefan? He is an exquisite dancer."
Elena's eyes raised slightly and she glanced at him, smiling. She remembered. But then her gaze found Damon, whose jaw was clenched tightly and who was cutting the rabbit flesh on his plate in far too many pieces. And then she remembered how abusive his farther had always been towards him and a boost of confidence swooped through her as she turned her head and bravely asked. "What about Damon?"
Her question was obviously much to their father's dislike, and she really didn't want to insult Stefan, but from the corner of her eyes, she could see Damon's head lift and his eyes fill with something other than anger, shame and sadness. It was some kind of dim happiness.
Giuseppe opened his mouth to say something but Damon was quicker. "I will do it." He choked out, not daring to look at his father who was now glaring at him heatedly. "I can teach you."
Elena looked at him, smiling. "Thank you, Damon." She nodded. "When will we start?"
"It has to be tomorrow, Miss. Seeing as the dance is only two nights away." He answered honestly, unable to hide the excitement in his voice. "We can meet in the ball room or I could pick you u-" The loud clapping noise of his father interrupted Damon.
"We are done eating." He told the servant next to the door. "Please, let Miss Gilbert rest now." He grunt quietly, especially at his older son. "She must be exhausted from all the travelling." And that was his last word before he shoved his chair back, stood up and glanced at Elena. "Miss Gilbert, I hope you'll sleep well in our embrace." He then just turned and left.
"As my father said." Stefan got up as well before looking at Damon who was still sitting, just like Elena. "Are you coming?"
"One minute, brother." Damon said without taking his eyes off of Elena. Stefan followed his gaze and grinned a little silly before nodding and leaving them.
"Thank you, Miss Elena." Damon started. "For choosing me."
Elena couldn't help it as her lips twitched up into a soft smile. "I know a good dancer when I see him." Her head turned slightly and she looked at Emily. "Will you excuse us for a minute?" The girl nodded and left as well. A sly smile on her lips.
Damon had unconsciously furrowed his dark, thick brows slightly, probably wondering what Elena was up to. "Please pass me the pudding." She said and he obeyed, she took a big spoon of it and let it drop on her plate. "Is your father always like that?" She asked and Damon's frown only increased.
"Like what?"
"Is he always that harsh?" She clarified.
His eyes dropped onto his own plate. "It's who he is."
"No, not like that." He laughed that beautiful laugh of his, drawing Elena's glance onto his lips as he set his hand on her shoulder blade once more. So innocent. The Damon of today would have let his hands wander. "You have to step back when I step forth, Miss." He explained, suddenly all too serious again.
She knew very well how the dance worked, but she was fooling around with him and the way he tried to get her to do it right, was beyond cute. He stepped forth, just like he had said, his hand resting on her shoulder blade so lightly that she barely felt it – he was just so modest – and their hands joined next to them in the air. "Like this?" Elena asked, following his lead and doing it perfectly well.
"Yes." He breathed, tickling her lips as his eyes filled with excitement towards the success of her moving with him in sync. Until she purposely screwed it up by not turning her torso, so that his broad chest crushed right into hers. She enjoyed the brief moment as their bodies touched. He was a little weaker as human and so was his body. It didn't feel like crushing into a brick wall or against iron, it just felt like crushing into another human and it was nice for a change. But he immediately drew away, his head dropping. "Excuse me, Miss Elena." His hands had left her body and curled into the fabric of his dark brown pants.
"It was my fault." Elena shook her head, taking a step towards him, which only seemed to make him more nervous. She curled her smaller digits around his and guided his hand back to her body, setting it on her hip. "Please, help me, Damon." She whispered, their bodies only inches from each other.
Damon looked up at her, his hand squeezing the smallest part of Elena's waist gently. "This is not were my hand belongs." He stated. And Elena shrugged.
"I know." She set her delicate hand on his shoulder, her chocolate pools glancing back at him. "Let's try again."
A familiar voice broke their closeness apart. "You should have taken me up on my suggestion of letting my younger son teach you the dance, Miss Gilbert." Damon's father stepped into the ball room. "His hands would not wander."
Damon broke away from Elena at his father's voice, his hand slipping into the pocket of his blue vest as he averted his glance to the polished ground. Elena inhaled, her chest rising in anger. "How may we help you, Mr. Salvatore?" She asked with all the politeness she had left in her voice.
"I must speak my son for a moment, if you'll allow." He held his hand out to Damon, though his eyes were fixed on Elena, who could only nod at the request. "You are excused, Damon." She said with a sigh of sadness.
Giuseppe led his son back into the house and up to his own bedroom where a fire was crackling in the fireplace, he grabbed himself a bottle of whiskey and poured himself and his son a glass. "What was so important that you had to drag me away from her?" Damon asked, his voice laced with annoyance.
"You are not taking her to the ball." His father stated, handing Damon a glass.
Damon's eyes wandered over to the window from which he could glance into the cold garden, snow was covering the ground but he could still make out Elena through the windows of the ball room. "And why's that?"
"She's going with Stefan." His father handed him his drink, looking him directly into the eyes.
Damon finished his whiskey at once, swallowing the burning liquid down for the courage he needed to stand up to his own father. He poured himself another glass and drowned that as well before grasping the bottle again, all under the eyes of his watchful father. "Stefan is taking Bethany." Damon told him, taking a sip of his newly poured glass. "I am taking Elena."
"You will not get your hands on that girl again!" Giuseppe simply stated, his voice becoming angrier while Damon filled his glass for the fourth time since they had entered the room. The alcohol was starting to make his head heavy.
"Why not?" Damon's voice was louder than his father's and his stare was stronger now. It was the whiskey. His hands clutched the glass tightly. And in the corner of his eye, he watched Elena gather her fur coat from a chair in the ball room. She was about to leave.
But then his father's words echoed in his ears, the same one he always heard. "You are not good enough."
The glass beneath Damon's fingers cracked and broke, effectively cutting into his skin as he dropped it while shooting over to his father, angrily standing in front of him to yell. "Stop saying that!"
Then everything went too fast and suddenly, Damon was against a wall, being held by his neck by his own father and then a fist hit his head, three times in total, while Damon's hands and arms hung motionlessly by his side. First the knuckles met his temple, then his cheek and eventually his mouth.
His father let go of him again and Damon didn't move, he just rested against the wall. There was blood on Giuseppe's hand and Damon wondered to whom it belonged. "Go now, son." His father demanded, holding his own fist as if in pain. Damon's vision was a bit blurry and he wondered if it had been the beating or the alcohol.
But he stumbled out of the room and down the stairs anyway, clutching the railing of the stairs to prevent himself from falling over. He didn't care that he didn't have a coat on him as his shoes hit the cold snow, supporting himself on the white wall of their house, he glanced down. Crimson. The snow was crimson colored at his feet. Blood. The loud throbbing of his head made it impossible to hear anything around him. His father's fists were still strong. And he hadn't been beaten this hard in month by him. It hurt.
Cold hands found their way too his cheeks, their digits were icy and he realized it weren't his hands. He didn't flinch away, though, because the cold feeling was soothing. "Damon." His name echoed from someone's lips and the next thing he knew, blood was on her hands as well. It was now that he realized that Elena was holding him.
"What the hell happened?" She whined quietly, trying to get him to talk. He looked horrible. His blood dripped onto her dress and she moved a finger to his lip, it was split open, just like his eyebrow and there was a small cut in the skin of his cheek were most of the blood was coming from. "We have to get you inside." She told him, glancing around them.
Her eyes then caught Giuseppe, who was making his way down the stairs, a towel wrapped around his right hand. It didn't really take a genius to put two and two together and Elena immediately knew what had happened. Damon had gotten a beating by his father. Elena glared at him in disgust, but she was too busy caring for Damon to go after him.
Her eyes shifted back onto the open wound and that's when she noticed something. It wasn't healing. Not like it usually did when she saw Damon wounded. He would always heal. But this was different. He was human. He was not her Damon. He was vulnerable and her heart ached at the thought of what Giuseppe had done to him. He seemed so fragile this way.
"Elena?" He breathed and Elena could make out alcohol as her name ghosted over his lips. He was probably a bit drunk as well.
"Come on.." She murmured, sliding one of his arms around her delicate shoulders in an attempt to move him. But he was so heavy that it took her several minutes to get him back inside and then again to move him up the stairs. He just kept bleeding everywhere.
When she had finally gotten him into her room, she carefully placed him on a chair, tilted his head back and examined the open wound on his cheek. "Elena!" He slurred loudly. And she pressed her fingers against his lips, drawing a quiet scream from him as she accidentally put pressure on his cut open lip. "I'm sorry!" She shrieked. "But be quiet. And don't move." She hurried into the connected bathroom, almost getting stuck in the doorframe, thanks to her dress.
It didn't take her long to find a cloth so she let some cold water run over it and made her way back to her hurt Damon as she could, only to see him standing on his feet again. "Damon!"
"I have to give him what he deserves!" He murmured, supporting himself on the armrest of the chair Elena had placed him in.
"You don't have to do anything." She said, hurrying over to him only to push him back into his chair rather roughly. "Sit!" And with that, his azure hues widened and he shut up.
She proceeded and pressed the wet cloth against his eye, cooling it and stopping it from bleeding it all over his face and clothes. "You got your blood on my dress, you owe me an explanation." Elena huffed, glaring at him slightly, though her glance immediately softened as her eyes fell upon his cut open lip and all that blood that was smeared across his face. She sighed, taking the cloth off of his temple to press it against his cheek softly. "What happened?"
"Nothing." Damon grunt.
"This is not nothing, Damon." Elena frowned, pressing the cloth against his wound to make him hiss. "I saw your father. He was hurt." Damon's gaze shifted down at her words. He looked so angry. "Did he do this?" She asked, taking the cloth off of his face to catch some blood that was making its way down his jaw and towards his throat.
Damon didn't look at her, he just stared at her dress and all the blood that had dripped onto it. She was never going to get rid of those spots anymore. Not like she cared. It took her a while to clean most of the blood off of his skin and he stayed silent while she was busy, her eyes narrowed slightly as she tried awfully hard not to hurt him while cleaning him off of his blood.
She then placed the cloth in his lap and her fingers grazed over the injury on his cheek, he flinched and his eyes met hers. "He said I wasn't good enough." Damon whispered.
Elena was so close, she could make out every single word, even though he had said it so damn quietly that it had barely reached her ears. Her perfectly shaped brows furrowed slightly and she dropped her hand from his face. "Not good enough for what?"
But Damon's eyes dropped once more and Elena pinned his chin between her thumb and index, she looked at his lip, her eyes travelling across his beautiful, young face. "This is going to turn into a scar." She told him, frowning.
"I bled on you." Damon suddenly told her, his bigger hand wrapping around her smaller one. It was warm and rough, like a man's hand. "I'm sorry, Miss El-"
"Just call me Elena, please." She soothed, her digits curling around his as she shifted her eyes and was met by his, their gazes boring into each other as she lifted her hand to glide a thumb along his soft lower lip. "And this cut looks bad as well." She stated quietly.
If this wasn't the 19th century, Victorian America version of Damon, he would have kissed her by now, Elena knew it. She could see it in his eyes. She wanted to see if he was bold enough to do it so badly, but just as she tried to let her fingers slide over his cheek, he drew away. "It's late, Elena. I shouldn't bother you anymore." He said, trying to get up.
His broad body moved past and headed for the door. "Damon!" Elena stopped him and he barely turned to look back at her. "Will you take me to the ball tomorrow?" She asked him, her eyes so hopeful. Icy blue eyes scooted from her face down her body and then away from her all together. "Damon.." Elena started and he didn't move an inch as she stepped closer to him. "Don't leave me now." She whispered, when she finally reached him and her hand slipped into his from behind him. "I would feel a lot saver knowing you by my side."
And in this moment, he loved the way she made him feel like a man, so he agreed and climbed into bed with her. He made sure to keep his distance and she made sure to keep her dress on, but she never let go of his hand. And when she woke up, it was gone, but there was a small note in it, written on it the most beautiful letters she had ever seen. Why didn't he write like this anymore, she wondered.
As she unfolded the small note, her eyes caught letter after letter, reading out loudly. "I'm leaving to join the Confederacy. I won't be able to escort you, Miss Elena." – Damon.
The Confederacy? Elena's slim eyebrows furrowed slightly and she thought back to history class until the words Confederate States Army rang in her ears and she almost dropped out of bed on her way out. She stumbled down the stairs and out of the door, hurrying down the stairs, where she met Stefan, who was sitting on horseback. "Where is he?" Elena gasped, out of breath.
"Damon?" Stefan asked with a polite smile. "He went down to town on his own horse." But all Elena did was shake her head desperately. "You have to get me down there!" She moved her feet through the snow, not caring about how thin her shoes were and how she had forgotten her fur coat. "NOW!" She looked up at Stefan.
"You are not even wearing a –"
"It doesn't matter! I need to see him!" Elena cried up at Damon's brother, her hands flying to his leg as her eyes pleaded with him. "I love him, Stefan."
And as her words passed her lips, Stefan extended his arm and offered her his hand. "Get up." He said, helping her onto the back of his horse, before taking off in the direction of the town on his white horse. He still was her white knight in shining armor.
It took them so much time to get near houses again that Elena was afraid that Damon had already left, but then she saw him, getting off of his horse and entering the post office. Stefan stopped his horse abruptly and let her down. She barely waved to him goodbye as she immediately took off to run after Damon, busting through the doors of the post office and catching him by his arm as she tripped and fell over her own dress. He was quick and strong and caught her, swooping her off the ground and turning lightly, he breathed out in surprise. "Elena?"
"Don't go." She sighed against his lips as he held her, all eyes in the room where on them and Elena was clinging to him for dear life. She had already lost him once, the real him.
His thick eyebrows were furrowed as if he was in pain and the corners of his lips had sunken so low that Elena wondered whether he was going to say anything at all. "The answer to your question is, you."
Now it was her turn to frown. She didn't understand and he could see that clearly on her face. So he set her down onto her feet and invited her to join him for a drink at the bar a few houses down. They had just started drinking coffee when he glanced at her again. "I'm not good enough for you, Elena." Damon explained. "That's what he had said."
It hit Elena's heart like a bullet and she couldn't help but let her eyes wander over his open wounds as she eyed him sadly. "That's not true, Damon." But his eyes dropped again and she figured she had to say something quickly before she lost him again. "I wanted to dance with you today." She whispered across the table softly, taking his hand.
His glance lifted and he shook his head slightly, unable to believe how lucky he was to have met this girl when the bartender interrupted them. "Aye, folks!" Catching their attention, the both looked up at him and he pointed towards the small window across from them were snowflakes could be seen falling. But they were not just falling smoothly to the ground, no their were passing the window so quickly, you couldn't even watch them and suddenly Elena noticed how cold it had become and how blue her fingers were as she glanced down onto her hands. She hated herself now for forgetting that fur coat.
Damon followed her eyes and understood, so he turned his head back to glance at the bartender. "Do you have a room out for rent?" He asked and the bartender shook his head, which only caused Damon to frown and reach into his pocket.
Elena's eyebrows furrowed and she wondered what he was getting out when suddenly his hand opened and money fell onto the table. "How about now?" He asked a bit grumpily and arched his thick, dark eyebrow.
The bartender reconsidered and nodded, huffing as he came over to collect the money and point them up the stairs. "You'll find wood for the fire in the brown storage box." He hissed as he quickly went to lock the bar's door.
Damon smirked his trademark smirk and Elena's eyes widened. It was the first time she had seen it, since she had arrived.
His hand found hers and he helped her up before leading her up the stairs. It made her so damn happy, the things he did for her. He was her Damon. Maybe not exactly and maybe he didn't know it yet, but this was him. No doubt. And once they were up in the room, which was small with only a tiny straw bed, he locked them in and Elena knew what she wanted the minute that the key turned in the lock.
Damon locked them in for safety, but to Elena, that locked door had a whole other meaning. And so when he turned back to look at her, she was right in front of him, their lips only inches away. "I wish we could have danced." She told him, whispering so softly as she shifted her doe eyes from his lips to his blue azure eyes.
This might have been Victorian America Damon, but she still knew what triggered him and that obviously didn't change as he had to swallow thickly. "Miss.." He started, but Elena was quicker and her lips met his. Spurring his undeniable desire and lust for her on, he suddenly kissed her back.
This was one of the only times where she dominated the kiss. And she enjoyed it, relishing in it as long as she could. She made him grunt and groan and the power she had over him was new and it turned her on. She had the opportunity to show him a good time, to corrupt his innocence like he had corrupted hers in the 21th century.
So she took a soft hold of his hands, drew her lips away from his and whispered. "I want to show you something." A small smile formed as she let her teeth sink into her kiss swollen lips and he silently followed her to the only chair in the room, his eyes hooded from lust.
She wondered for a brief moment if he had ever.. done it himself as she sat him down and started to undo her dress, folding it neatly onto the bed. "What are you..?" Damon tried to ask, but Elena shut him up by placing her finger against his mouth.
"I need the space.." She said when she was finally left in nothing more than the thin white under-dress.
The next thing he knew, she lowered herself onto her knees in front of him, licking her lips slowly as her innocent brown chocolate hues stared up at him. "Elena.. What are you..?" He wanted to know, but her actions answered his questions as her hands undid his pants and pulled the zipper down to be met by a straining erection, which obviously embarrassed him. "I'm sorry, I did not intend for it to be this.." He trailed off, unable to put it words.
"This hard?" Elena asked amused, her hand giving him a gentle squeeze which drew the throatiest growl from him. "It's not your fault, but let me take care of it anyway." She coed, smiling up at him as she inched his pants further down his thighs, exposing his manhood completely.
It was him, in all of his glory.
"Elena, I can't." That was society speaking out of him.
"Damon, enjoy yourself. For me?" She glanced up and he was frowning down at her in disbelief. "It's okay." She soothed a hand over his thigh, teasing him further. "Let me take care of it.." She breathed warmly against the head of his member, effectively making him groan. He let his eyes fall shut and his head bobbed up and down, giving Elena the cue to start her magic.
Warm wetness surrounded him slowly as her mouth slipped down on him and she could feel how hard and ready he was, answering her previous question about whether he had done it himself before or not.
He was needy, unable to keep his hips still and his mouth quiet and Elena took her time, letting him struggle with his orgasm and keeping him on the edge at all times until she finally took him deeper, her cheeks becoming hollow as she sucked with all her might and her throat vibrated with a moan around him; effectively pushing him over the edge. He howled like a wolf and emptied himself in her mouth. He was absolutely spent afterwards and Elena took him to bed, spend minutes kissing her way up his body, because she loved the way he reacted to her every touch and then they kissed and fell asleep in each other's arms.
The shattering of glass ripped her from her dreamless sleep and instead of the wooden ceiling she had fallen asleep under, her gaze was not met with stone. She inhaled deeply, blinking a few times before she turned her head to take in her surroundings. The dress from the wedding. Bourbon bottles. Stone. More alcohol. Her clothes. Pictures. A coffin. She was home.
It took her a moment to regain power of her body, but when she did she climbed out of the coffin, her eyes falling next to the wall of the tomb where the shattered glass was laying when the sounds of someone sobbing slightly reached her ears. Damon.
She followed his angry voice and there he was, resting his head against a wall, his eyes closed, tears coating his cheeks. She reaches out and glides her hands over his back, around his neck and cups his cheeks to turn him. His eyes open slowly and she can't believe the emotions that flow through his red eyes as she whispers softly. "Merry Christmas."
A/N: Never stop loving them, gha! Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!