Hello, sorry, it's been a while, I know... But I had the urge to write again after two years of being unable to write a word and I thought I would just roll with it. In the interest of being entirely honest, I have no idea where this story is going or if I can actually follow through with it... But I am willing to give it a try.
…Cursing his luck, Damon gave the front door another hard shove as the rain continued to mercilessly pelt down on him, soaking even the most brittle fragments of his damaged soul… Sometimes he wondered what the universe stood to gain from making even the simplest of acts, like opening a fucking door, more complicated than it needs to be…
He didn't want any more reminders that he was down on his luck… That he, no doubt, was cursed... So was there any sense in the universe driving the point home? Of course not...
"Come on!" – he growled at the skies as another shove had no impact on the stubborn door. His shoulder was achy and he was frozen from the rain, wanting nothing more than a warm shower and a chance to forget he was alive for a couple of hours.
"I should have followed that fucking floozy from the bar home." – he muttered exasperated as he removed his leather jacket and wrapped around his tight fist as he walked to the back of his house.
Reaching the kitchen's door, Damon took a deep breath and punched the glass panel hard, managing to shatter it and finally gain access to his damn house. Damon fell so weary that he didn't even care anymore about the mess, the broken pane or the mud trail he was leaving in his wake. He was done with caring about everything, about consequences or about anyone.
Grabbing a bottle of whisky on his way to the bathroom and taking four or five big gulps, Damon turned the shower on and stepped in with his clothes still in place. The burn in his throat felt reassuringly good, the heat galloping through his insides promising the type of oblivion he was desperate for... Damon knew better, no amount of booze or time seemed to clear his mind from the ghost of her and the memory of him…
Four years ago….
Damon was laughing like he hadn't for ages, running around the bedroom and chasing after Elena like if he too was a teenager that had his entire life ahead of him.
Of course he could have used his vampire speed, but it was much more fun to play along with this charade of cat and mouse. Damon was deriving much delight from her squeals, from the playful chase and this open ended teasing. Was enjoying reaching out and letting his fingertips momentarily brush the skin near the hem of her short shorts and the feel of her skin as it broke out in goosebumps. Accidentally rubbing a nipple, making it pebble and push against the material of her PJ's as he made to grab her arm. Caging her in just so that she had to squirm against his hard body to regain her freedom, rubbing against him in the most delicious ways.
He didn't quite know what he enjoyed more, the carefree nature of this interlude, the stolen touches or the fact that she blushed after each one of them. The only thing he knew is that he should have thought of generously plying her with alcohol much earlier in his courtship. Slightly tipsy but not fully drunk Elena was a hoot.
All was well in the world. They had been enjoying a relatively quiet time in Mystic Falls. Nobody had died, returned from the dead or been in any kind of danger for 3 weeks now. Damon knew it couldn't last but he was going to damn well enjoy the respite and make sure she did too. He would also take the opportunity to endlessly tease Elena by implying that it was because "Sabrina" was out of town and thoroughly delight in her answering pout. Still, Damon knew it wouldn't last and that this was but the proverbial calm before the storm… He and Stefan had discussed it at length, Stefan probably dedicating 6 precious pages to it in his diary, and they had agreed to take turns watching Elena. It meant putting aside their differences, which somehow allowed for them enjoying a camaraderie akin to the one they had in their younger days. It almost felt normal…
Making another well calculated but seemingly random lunge at Elena, Damon finally managed to successfully grab her. The smirk on his face wavered a little when he clamped his hand around her arm only to have her pull him down with her as she fell backwards on the mattress with a huff. Damon tried not to slam into her, but it turns out that controlling gravity is not a vampire superpower. He made a valiant effort to minimize the impact by bracing his arms on the mattress to each side of her head, but his hips still collided with hers as if he was trusting and her eyes opened big and wide. He gave her a sheepish smile. She couldn't possibly expect the game not to get him a little, erm, excited. After all, wasn't that the point? But he had hoped not be found out, after all, he did have a reputation to withhold and a hardon didn't exactly scream detachment.
Time stood still for longer than he expected and her berating speech never came. Their eyes locked, her face flushed and her breath shallow. Damon, having been found out, got lost in her gaze, trapped in the gravitational pull that was always present between them. Wanting her more than he had the right to and losing the battle with himself by small increments. Suddenly he felt her tiny hands raise and hesitantly wrap around the nape of his neck. The next second, Elena pulled Damon into her slowly, as if waiting for him to bolt or vanish, as if he was a dream she was trying to materialize. Then he was impossibly close, their cores still pressing against the other, as she felt his breathing ghost over her lips. Her heart accelerated even more as she realized that there would be no stopping this now.
Damon remained unmovable, so Elena raised her head and met him halfway, blanketing her lips ever so softly over his. It was the briefest of kisses, like breaking a silent barrier that you cannot put back in place. Wetness pooled around Elena's eyes as they separated and searched each other's gazes. Elena frowned in concern, trying to read the feelings she could almost see. There was a mix of longing and panic, with a good measure of guilt and confusion and something else, always something else. It made her heart stutter, giving rise to a desperate need to comfort him, to save and protect him from himself…
Elena let her hand move down to his face and rest against his cheek, tenderly trying to erase all those frightening emotions keeping him still like a statue above her. There was no cockyness or snark as he leaned into her reassuring touch. Letting out a single broken whisper.
"Elena…"
The rasp and vulnerability behind the barely there words steeled her resolve. However, feeling her tense up, Damon misinterpreted her reaction and moved swiftly away from her reach. Like if tethered, Elena sat up as quick as she could, following after him, reaching for his body as he stood dejectedly looking out of the window.
She lay a gentle hand on his back, feeling his muscles tense at her touch. Undeterred, she turned him around and, with a more commanding hand under his chin, she raised his face to look at hers. Damon was all tension, bracing for rejection, barely noticing that she feared his rejection as much as he did hers.
Wishing nothing more than to wipe the pain from his expression, Elena wasted no more time. She firmly pushed her body against his and allowed the colliding of their lips together, pouring all her passion into a new type of desperate and all-consuming kiss. Damon was startled for about a millisecond before he welcomed her wet tongue into his mouth and responded with the same voracity and dedication she was demonstrating. Their hands followed suit and started travelling each other's bodies undeterred, caressing, grabbing, squeezing and pulling at each other hungrily.
Elena pulled at her own top first, detaching from his lips only briefly to bare her bra clad torso to Damon's ravenous gaze. She then gave a firm tug at his top and, as Damon obligingly removed it, her fingers dexterously reached for his pants, unbuttoning, unzipping and pulling them down with a speed that startled even Damon. He didn't even had time to remind her he always went commando and that there was about a 98% that his dick was going to spring free and slap her in the face. Ok, make that an 100% chance.
Elena took it in stride and smiled up with glee at him as he tried to process how they came from "It will always be Stefan" to her lips being so close to…
"Fuck" – Damon yelped as her hot lips wrapped around his dick and her hands wrapped up along its length – "If this is a dream please don't let me wake up." – he groaned as his hands dug into her hair and Elena took more of him inside her mouth. Her tongue wetly swiped the underside and his hips jerked automatically in response, eyes bulging open and looking up… Then he froze…
There it is, read and review if you can and tell me what you think...
