for the first time since becoming a vampire - hell, for the first time, ever - damon salvatore found himself experiencing true, total, beautiful happiness. every bone in his body rejoiced; all the cliches rang true, and suddenly it was like a world he'd been viewing through a blurred lens took on high definition clarity. he knew the pain and despair and gut-wrenching misery of being in love. being loved, though? that was brand new, and it was more intoxicating than anything he'd ever felt. he wrapped his arms around this unfamiliar, delicious sense of happiness, holding it close - holding her close. for the first time in memory, he'd been chosen over his brother. it was still a difficult concept to wrap his head around. he'd always been second to saint stefan, both as a man and as a vampire. really, he'd grown to accept the fact that he was damned to spend eternity in his little brother's shadow.
and then she'd looked at him, her eyes huge and serious and just a little scared, and she'd answered his every question with a single, whispered word.
"you."
me, he thought, still staggered by it. not stefan. him. she wanted him, and life had never been sweeter.
if he hadn't been so dazzled by the sensation of pure, unadulterated happiness, he would've expected the inevitable - he would've anticipated that hellish moment when everything went to shit. in general, damon was a worst case scenario kind of guy; it was a defense mechanism borne of over a century of disappointment, hurt, and rejection. he'd been so fucking entranced by the very notion that someone - the someone, the only someone who mattered - wanted him, and everything else faded into the background until all he could see was elena. elena smiling at him, laughing with him, kissing him, moving under him until he drove her over the edge of rational thought and her big brown eyes went blind as she shattered.
enter stefan, the vampire equivalent of debbie downer. enter stefan, and his fucking revelation, the one that had damon's heart constricting, cracking, and ultimately crumbling to dust. he wondered if his heart - if his soul - would ever be whole again.
"she's sired to you," his brother had said, and damon's first instinct had been to burst out laughing. he certainly wasn't above enjoying this brand new world in which stefan was jealous of him, so jealous that he'd come up with this bullshit, one in a million theory explaining elena's feelings for the elder salvatore brother.
damon wanted to hate stefan for thinking it was so fucking impossible for elena to love him, to want him, to choose him - but then, he'd been sure it was impossible, as well. he couldn't help contemplating shakespeare's famous line - tis better to have loved and lost, indeed. was it? was it better for him to know just how unbelievably good things could be with elena only to find out he couldn't have her? was it better for him to know her taste, to know every dip and curve and soft, sexy line of her body, for him to know what it was like to wake up still entwined with her, to bask in the sleepy, satisfied smile she greeted him with in the morning? was it better for him to have finally seen the overflowing light of love reflected in her eyes, the light that matched his own, and to know that he was the source of her happiness? that he was the reason she woke with a smile?
maybe fifty years from now he'd cherish those memories, but right now he wasn't sure he could function with them filling his head when he knew that's all they could ever be - memories, dreamy remembrances of the brief, beautiful time he'd had the love, the body, the soul, of the woman who was everything to him. how could he manage to get through each day knowing what he could've had, what he did have - and knowing that he would never and could never have it again?
he dragged a hand through his hair and closed his eyes, trying in vain to steel himself for the scene to come. he knew what he had to do, knew what he had to say, and it was ripping him up inside. it was bad enough having to put himself through the whole excruciating ordeal, and now he was supposed to put her through it as well. he was going to have to hurt her, to walk away from her, when she so desperately needed someone to stand unwavering by her side. christ, the whole thing made him physically ill. nothing hurt him more than seeing her in pain, and now he had to inflict that pain on her himself. it was unbearable, unimaginable.
it was his reality, and putting it off wasn't helping anyone.
"fuck," he cursed to himself, his tone ripe with anger and frustration. the unfairness of it all was just too much, and he decided impulsively that after he'd dealt with this, after he'd walked away, he was going to pay little brother a visit. and beat the living shit out of him, because sometimes you just had to strike out at the messenger. especially when that messenger hadn't bothered to mask his satisfaction in relaying the message. he'd have been blind not to see the gleam of it in stefan's eye, the sparkle that told damon quite clearly that while stefan wasn't necessarily enjoying breaking the news to damon, the news itself was a source of pleasure. damon's stomach twisted as he thought about how fucking thrilled stefan must've been when he and caroline figured out that elena was bonded to him. how fucking thrilled stefan must've been to discover that maybe he'd lost the girl, but at least his brother wasn't going to get her, either.
damon's legs had never felt heavier as he made the walk from his car to the door of the salvatore boardinghouse. each step was a study in torment, bringing him closer and closer to the woman he loved and had to let go. he gave in to the bitterness of it all and slammed a fist against the brick exterior of the house, reveling in the rush of pain as the force of the blow vibrated from his fingers to his shoulder to his soul. it felt so good, so horribly good, that he followed the first hit with a second, then a third, shredding the skin of his knuckles and breathing in the coppery scent of his own blood.
he flexed his fingers, watching the blood rise to the surface of his battered knuckles and trying to steady his breathing, to get it together so that he could face elena as a man and not the wounded animal he'd become.
he raised his aching hand to the doorknob, closed his eyes, gritted his teeth, and opened the door.
there was something incredibly sexy about taking a shower in damon's bathroom. it was such a personal space, and to stand under the pulsing spray, to swirl his soap over her body and smell him on her skin was impossibly erotic. heat pooled low in elena's belly and, not for the first time, she wished it was his hands washing every sensitive inch of her.
she heard the front door open and her heart leapt in her chest. he was back, he was finally back, and if she hadn't been so stupidly, hopelessly in love, she probably would've laughed at her own eagerness. as it was, the love she felt for him made everything else disappear entirely. when damon was near, he was all that mattered. she rinsed the soapy suds from her skin and turned off the water, amused but not entirely surprised to find herself breathless at the very thought of seeing him, of feeling the searing heat of his gaze as his eyes roved her body, a thrilling prelude to his hands doing the same thing.
good lord, she was hot for him.
she towel dried her hair hastily and wrapped herself in his black silk robe, again thrilled by the intimacy of her naked skin wrapped in his scent, and she paused to glance at her reflection. she looked fresh and dewy and flushed with hormones. she looked like a woman waiting to take her lover to bed - which was precisely the plan.
she left the bathroom, absently wringing droplets of water from her hair, and there he was, leaning against the dresser across the room, staring into the honey brown depths of his usual glass of bourbon. his brow was furrowed, his posture deceptively relaxed, but she instantly honed in on the tight lines of his shoulders and the rigid set of his jaw.
thoughts of seduction vanished as nerves flooded her body, and she shivered involuntarily. he was silent, apparently hypnotized by the liquor in his glass, and after a moment of silent observation she crossed the room and carefully extracted the drink from his hand before lifting that hand and bringing his palm to her lips.
he flinched, actually flinched, when he felt the warmth of her mouth on his skin, and elena dropped his hand and took a step back, her eyes locked on his face. something bad was about to happen, no question about it. and all she wanted to do was slide her arms around him and hold him close, to hide from whatever fresh hell had sprung up in the town of mystic falls - all she wanted to do was lose herself in the dark, delicious depths of damon salvatore.
"hey, you," she whispered, tilting her head to the side and studying him, trying to fight the flames of fear dancing in her stomach. "what's going on? talk to me, damon."
his lips twisted bitterly, and he raised his head, meeting her eyes for the first time.
"i don't want to," he responded, and his eyes were bleak. "as long as i don't talk, everything can just... we can just be." his voice was broken, and she went to him, giving in to the desire to hold him, to offer comfort when he so clearly needed it. for a moment, he stood absolutely still. then he let out a ragged breath and wrapped his arms around her. the embrace was tight, almost desperate, like he felt the need to keep her in a death grip before she could slip away.
she trailed her fingers along the strong line of his jaw and kissed the hollow of his throat. her hands had taken on a mind of their own, and she was hardly conscious of her fingers slowly undoing the buttons of his shirt and exposing the hard, defined lines of his chest. those same frisky fingers kept moving lower, and she didn't even realize she was reaching for his belt buckle until he caught her wrist and yanked it away, hard.
she looked at him, and the hurt he saw on her face just about killed him.
after a long, pregnant pause, he spoke. "we can't. we can't do this anymore, elena."
his words were like a physical blow, and she jerked back, staring at him through eyes bright with tears. she swallowed, blinked furiously to fight those tears, then simply closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. when she opened her eyes again, they were dry, and they were very dark, full of wariness. temperature rarely affected her newborn vampire self, but suddenly she was icy cold all the way to the marrow of her bones.
"earlier, when you drank from the blood bag at school," he murmured, breaking the silence when it became clear that she wasn't going to speak, "that was... stefan had this theory, and turns out, he was right."
"the sire bond," she said, her voice flat and empty.
that caught him by surprise. "you already knew?"
"caroline."
"naturally," he muttered. "it's not right, elena. it's not real, none of it. and it can't be, not like this. it's one big fucking lie, and i'm not going to make you live it."
she slapped him. before she became a vampire, he could've stopped her without a thought; now her movements were a blur of speed, and the sting of the slap was fierce and angry, accompanied by the sound of her ragged breathing.
"don't you dare tell me what's real and what's not, damon salvatore. don't you dare try and tell me how i feel. i know about the goddamn bond, damon, and i'm well aware that, yeah, it influences my actions, whatever - but my feelings, those are mine. god, i don't care about a stupid sire bond, it doesn't make a difference to me! caroline told me, i was intrigued, i asked tyler some questions, and came to my own conclusions. we can handle this, damon! it doesn't have to ruin something that could be so, so good. what i feel for you..." her voice cracked, and the look on her face broke his heart. "it's real, damon. it's so real i can hardly stand it. i can barely breathe i'm so crazy in love with you."
she might as well have followed the slap with a punch to the gut. "fuck. oh, fuck, elena, don't say that. don't make this harder when it's already killing me."
she let out a derisive snort, pushing away the hurt and holding tight to the fury. "you're right," she said, her voice sharp and caustic. "how rude of me to tell the man i love how i feel. what was i thinking?" she spun away from him, her movements jerky and rife with tension as she paced the room. her gaze wandered before falling on the bottle of bourbon on his bedside table, and she went straight for it, yanking off the lid before raising it to her lips. she took a long, healthy swig, shuddering as the burn of liquor slid through her body.
"if you want something, you fight for it, damon. this, you and me?" she gestured with the bottle and the liquid sloshed against the glass, much like the contents of damon's stomach. "we've been headed this way from the moment we met, damon. now you're going to throw it away? you're going to walk away from something that could be, that would be, so completely right? just like that? i never pegged you for a coward."
he refused to rise to the bait and shook his head, hard, his eyes burning bright as they watched her."it's not that simple, elena." now he was the one pacing, the set of his shoulders stiff as he walked toward her, clenching his fists, furious at his own helplessness. "you think i want to walk away from you? no guy in his right mind would want that, elena. but - it's not right, okay? it's not fair to you, being so... you're totally, completely vulnerable, elena. anything i say goes. i can make you do any fucking thing, and that's just wrong."
"you picked a great time to grow a conscience," she said bitterly, and when he tried to take the bottle from her she yanked it back and took a third healthy drink. "screw you," she told him. "this is mine. if you're gonna break my heart, i'm gonna drink your alcohol. and i don't feel like sharing."
something dangerous flashed in those ridiculously blue eyes of his, and elena felt the slightest stirrings of panic in her breast as she watched it flare and disappear so fast she could've imagined it. it was stunning, and just a little scary, how quickly he tamped down on emotions of such staggering intensity, and she marveled at his steady, even tone when he spoke again.
"i think you do," damon said, looking at her very calmly.
"think i do what?" she snapped, vibrating with anger, hating him for making her feel so much love and pain and violent rage all at once, hating him for trying to make her decisions, for assuming he was the ultimate authority on what was and wasn't good for her.
"i think you do want to share." she couldn't break away from his gaze, even as hers blurred with tears.
"no," she said hoarsely, clutching the bottle in trembling fingers and focusing all her energy on bringing it back to her lips. it was hard, so incredibly hard, to keep her grip on the glass - her brain was screaming, telling her to do as he said, and she bit her lip hard enough to break the skin, resisting the pull of his words, of his eyes. she began to shiver, overwhelmed by him, by her physical response to his words.
"give me the bottle, elena," he said, and she wanted to strangle him for sounding so totally detached, as though this whole horrible situation was happening to someone else entirely and he was merely a disinterested onlooker.
sweat was breaking out on her forehead and she put every ounce of willpower into holding still, refusing to give in to her quivering muscles, refusing to listen to their demands, and with every passing second it was harder, harder, quickly becoming impossible, to keep the bottle at her side.
"come on, miss gilbert," he said silkily, leaning a hip on his bedpost and studying her in an almost clinical manner, like none of this really mattered, like it was all some experiment, the results of which made no difference to him. "it would make me so, so happy if you'd just give me the bottle. and you want to make me happy, don't you sweetheart?" he threw in the term of endearment, using it in the least endearing manner possible.
"don't do this," she whispered, voice shaking. "don't do this, damon."
he didn't speak, just watched and waited, and she couldn't fight it anymore, couldn't fight the blood bonding them, the blood that called out to her and demanded a response. she wanted to scream as she gave in, thrusting the bourbon at his chest, her eyes blazing as they met his. even a vampire wouldn't heal from the pain he was causing, the wounds he was inflicting.
"you win," she whispered, letting the tears fall unchecked down her face. she was far beyond pride and simply didn't have it in her to hide her feelings. she was too weak, too tired, too broken. he was the only one, the only person in the whole damn world, who stayed by her side through the transition, the only one who didn't judge when she stumbled, when she crumbled. stefan couldn't deal with her. caroline wanted to fix her, caroline, her very best friend. her brother wanted to kill her, for god's sake.
and through it all, through the tumult and upheaval of becoming a new person, of learning a new way to live, damon was there, believing in her, guiding her, keeping her steady, keeping her sane.
loving her, no matter what.
and now she was losing him, too? she wasn't sure she'd survive this unbelievable pain.
"so i guess you're kicking me out," she said after a moment, trying to read his expression and coming up blank. she'd forgotten his ability to turn off like that, to slip back into his asshole damon persona, the one who really didn't care, the one who'd stand aside and watch the world burn.
she knew in her heart that it was false, the front he put up, the slightly mocking smile and nonchalant attitude. she knew in her heart the depth of his emotions, but his poker face was firmly in place. if he felt the pain she did, he was doing a brilliant job of hiding it.
don't be stupid, she thought to herself. of course he's hurting. because he loves you, he's always loved you. you know that.
but he stood there so lazily, watching her, keeping his thoughts to himself and looking only mildly interested in the situation, in her pain, in her.
"you love me, damon," she whispered, but it came out sounding like a question, hesitant, unsure, sad and hopeful and scared.
he cocked his head to the side and studied her, astounded by the fact that she was buying his act, that he was somehow convincing her that he'd already accepted and come to terms with the fact that they could never be together. how was it possible for her to watch his heart breaking without seeing it at all?
"yes," he said, finally, and she realized she'd been holding her breath, scared of his answer. but it was okay, he loved her. that had to mean something, didn't it? the idea of two people loving each other this much and not acting on it was unnatural. how could something this fierce and true and wonderful stay hidden? to throw away all their love, all their potential - it just didn't make sense.
"you love me," she repeated, and this time it wasn't a question.
he stepped toward her and used the pad of his thumb to wipe away her tears. when he spoke, he didn't bother with the mask. he wore his pain like a badge of honor. "that's the point, elena. i love you, and i want you, and i wish this wasn't the way it had to be. god, i'd give just about anything to make this go away, to let us just be. you're all i want, and if you somehow don't see that you're just blind."
his touch was infinitely tender as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and looked into her eyes, into her soul.
"i can't, elena. i can't make it go away, and we can't pretend it's not an issue. you're sired to me, and that means something."
"it means i want to make you happy," she answered, a fresh wave of frustration washing over her. "what's the problem with that, damon? i love you. nothing else matters. i'm the one sired to you, and if i'm okay with that, then it's on me. you don't have to feel guilty, you don't have to feel like you're pushing me into this. bond or no bond, i want you. just you. let me have you, damon."
he tipped his head forward so that his brow rested against hers, close enough that she felt the flutter of displaced air as his eyes swept closed.
"i'm sorry, elena," he said, meaning it with every fiber of his body.
"no," she whispered, breath hitching. her grip on control was slipping, and any minute now she would break. she would break, and she was so very scared that nothing could fix her.
nothing except this beautiful man in front of her, this beautiful man who was walking away.
"i could see you trembling," he murmured, dusting the tip of her nose with a kiss. "when i said i wanted the bourbon, and you wouldn't give it to me? i could see how hard that was. i can't have that power over you."
"i'm in love with you," she answered, her voice soft and full of heartbreak. "you already have that power over me, because i'm in love with you. you're all i want, damon. this is just a hitch. we'll figure out how to deal with it. it'll be okay, damon, i promise. as long as we're - damon, we'll make it okay. we have to." she swallowed hard, tasting the salt of her tears as they streamed down her face. "i need you," she told him, because she did, god she needed him. and he needed her. there was a reason they felt this way, there had to be. what they felt for each other was so real, so totally pure, so much stronger than anything else. it was so right.
she wasn't going to stop fighting, damon thought, and the thought warmed the broken fragments of his heart. she was fighting for him, fighting for them, and it was a beautiful thing. beautiful, but pointless. nothing was going to change. he had to accept it, she had to accept it, before this desperate longing killed them both.
she didn't understand how incredibly vulnerable she was to him; she didn't understand that he could make her do any fucking thing he wanted. she didn't want to understand it. but he'd sired another girl a whole lifetime ago, and while he lived and loved and fought and fucked she waited for him, waited and waited and waited because she was helpless to do anything else.
he couldn't have that much control over elena, didn't trust himself with it. somewhere along the way, he'd end up abusing the bond - hadn't he been doing that already, without realizing it? he was the one who told her she couldn't drink from a blood bag, the one who said she needed her blood fresh from the vein - because of him she'd consistently rejected blood until she tasted his. that was where it really began, wasn't it? she'd turned, and in doing so she'd chosen to turn to him. she'd tasted his blood, starved for him, and it was his fault they'd resorted to such a personal, sexual means of satisfying her hunger. he'd unwittingly manipulated the situation in his favor. the moment she'd pressed her mouth to his wrist, everything changed, everything shifted. and that change, that shift, was so damn good.
"damon, i know what you're thinking," she whispered, taking his hand and pressing it to her breast. "but this, this is real, and it's good. it's right. maybe you think you're going to abuse the sire bond, but you're always selling yourself short. i know you, damon, and you can be reckless and careless and impulsive. but not with me. never with me. i trust you, a hundred percent. can't that be enough?"
he didn't answer, which was answer enough. she closed her eyes, willing it all to go away, wishing she could rewind the clock to the night before, wishing she could go back in time to the moment stefan and caroline figured out the bond between her and damon. wishing she could press pause and bang their heads together until the knowledge of the sire bond fell right out of their heads. had it really been less than an hour ago that she'd slipped out of the shower, intent on seduction?
that's what she'd do, if she could go back. she'd seduce the living hell out of him before he said a word about the god damned sire bond, and everything would be okay.
"i'm not going to stop fighting for you, damon. we're worth fighting for, this is worth fighting for. how can you turn your back on this, when we've lived it already? i can't go back to a time when kissing you wasn't okay. how am i supposed to spend eternity knowing what it's like to... to be with you, to make love to you, and not act on it?"
he had to stop this, had to get the hell out of the room, get the hell away from her, before he simply gave in. he had to push her away before she got any closer. his lips curved, and there it was again, the mocking smile.
"you really think this is harmless, elena?" he was speaking softly, and the low, husky timbre of his voice was viciously sexy. he knew it, and used it. "i have a very creative mind, you know. there are some very fun, very dirty things i could make you do." he traced the curve of her cheekbone, skimmed his fingers down her throat and along her exposed collar bone. she shivered in response, and now he used both hands, resting them lightly on her hips before following the slender line of her torso, brushing the sides of her breasts and making her breath catch.
"you're trying to scare me," she managed, even as her back arched into his touch. "you wouldn't - " his thumbs brushed her breasts and her body reacted instantly, her nipples getting hard, rigid, yearning for more. he idly squeezed one between his thumb and forefinger, twisting it, making her moan. "you wouldn't make me do anything i don't want to do," she continued, speaking quickly before he could further interrupt her ability to form sentences.
and when he looked down at her, still toying with her nipples, balancing her body on that dangerous edge between pain and pleasure, she knew that he was playing with her, and he was winning. his eyes were dark with lust, smoky with desire, hypnotizing her, paralyzing her.
"tell me, elena... have you ever used this perfect, sexy mouth of yours to go down on someone?" he tugged the belt of the robe, pulling her closer, pressing their bodies together, center to center, letting her feel her effect on him. he moved his hips, just a little, and she moved with him without a thought. she whimpered as he ground his hips against hers, and she had to remind herself to breathe. "well? have you ever let anyone fuck your mouth? has any lucky guy ever exploded in your throat, made you choke on his come? i'd love to be the first."
she hated him for this, for using sex to make her feel lost and vulnerable and desperate, hated him for his crude language and the calculating gleam in his eyes. he was trying to scare her, and he was succeeding. yes, she hated him for the tactic... even as the lust in her belly flared brighter.
"answer the question, elena," he commanded, his voice soft as velvet and hard as steel.
"no," she said, wanting to scream, wanting to sob, wanting to run for the door, wanting to run for the bed. she was actually blushing, and damon hid a smile behind a pitying look.
"my poor, poor brother," he commented. "missing out on that luscious mouth of yours..."
"don't bring him into this." she wanted to snap, but her voice shook. "this is about you and me, not stefan."
"i could teach you a thing or two," damon went on, ignoring her entirely. "teach you how to use your tongue and your teeth. i'm sure my brother would appreciate that. imagine, the perfect christmas gift. here, stefan, have your ex girlfriend. by the way, i taught her to give great head."
"stop it," she begged, wrenching herself from the haze of lust and taking a step away from him. he just tightened his grip on the belt of her robe and pulled her back. "don't, damon. don't make this dirty. i don't want it to be like this, please."
"see, that's what you're not seeing, elena. this isn't about what you want. it's about what i want, and i want some wicked, wild things. and you, beautiful, have to do what i want, give me what i want. whatever that may be."
"i've already made love to you," she whispered weakly. "you can have me, damon. you don't have to do it this way."
"but it's so fun," he growled, slowly untying the silken tie, dropping it to the floor. watching the folds of his robe separate, lifting his hands to her shoulders and smoothly sliding the robe off. she tensed immediately and tried to stop it from coming off completely, and he clucked his tongue. "oh, no, that's not what i'm looking for. take it off, elena. come on, sweetheart. show me that you don't care about being completely at my mercy. that you're perfectly content with knowing that i can make you do absolutely anything while you're totally powerless to stop me - or to stop yourself. you're mine, you see? and i was never very careful with my toys..."
the robe fell to the floor, and he was right - she was entirely at his mercy, totally vulnerable. she trembled, raising her chin and looking at him with a defiant spark in her eyes even as her mouth quivered.
"i'm not scared of you," she told him, almost meaning it. "hell, before you decided you were done with me i was gonna seduce you - i was going to make love to you. really, you're doing what i want."
"i don't want to make love, elena," he said, looking amused at the thought. he leaned closer, his mouth a breath away from her ear. when he continued, the hot, husky tone of his sex-fueled voice had a shudder creeping up her spine. she fought to keep eye contact.
"then what is it i can do for you, master?" the last word was laced with an irritable bite, but he ignored it. hearing her address him like some submissive plaything had his throbbing cock growing wilder.
"you can position that sexy fucking body of yours however i want it. and then can bite your hot little mouth till it bleeds while i fuck you, elena. while i build you up and tear you down and leave you limp and beaten and mine, only mine. i want to make you scream. i want to fuck you so long and so hard you can't walk afterwards. i want to ride you and listen to you begging for more. i want to hear you whimpering my name. i want to screw you till you can't take another second of it and then i want todo it again. i want to slam my cock inside you and make you wet and slippery and hot. i want you naked and desperate. i want to push you to the very brink and leave you hanging there until you're promising me anything and everything if i'll just touch you, if i'll just let you fall apart. your body isn't yours anymore, elena. you get that, don't you?"
"you're all talk," she managed, dizzy from the images he'd painted, dizzy with the knowledge that everything he was saying, everything he was doing, was so wrong - and so goddamn hot.
"you think so?"
"i know so," she answered, but her voice lacked conviction.
"are you wet, elena? is it turning you on, listening to me tell you all the things i want to do to you? all the things i can and will do to you, whether you want them or not?"
"that's the thing, damon," she said, trying to focus on him and ignore his wandering hands. she let out a gasp of surprise, of pleasure, when one of those hands trailed along her inner thigh, so close to her wet heat and so terribly far. her thighs parted, and his mouth curved in a smirk of satisfaction.
"what's the thing, elena?"
"i want to do those things. i want you to show me."
it took every ounce of self control to keep his lazy smile in place. she was supposed to cry and curse, to tell him he was sick and disgusting and to stay the hell away from her. she was supposed to believe he'd make her do scary, sexy things, that he'd use her body for as long as he damn well pleased and she'd have no choice but to let him.
and with every passing second, the game he was playing got a whole lot more interesting. he was trying to prove a point, wasn't he? to show her how ruthless he could be, how ruthlessly he could dominate her, destroy her.
jesus, he wanted to rule her, own her, to fuck her and love her, to taste her and tease her. to drive her completely fucking wild with his tongue and teeth and touch. he wanted to make her sob his name, to make her come in one wild gush of frenzied sexuality.
but he somehow managed to keep his game face on.
"okay, elena. you want to try the big leagues? i think the place to start is that perfect, virgin mouth of yours." he regarded her, his eyes steady and piercing, betraying zero emotion beyond lust. and he braced himself for the moment she looked at him with hate in her eyes and walked away. "come on, gorgeous. prove you don't mind the fact that you're my very own sex toy."
her eyes were enormous, swallowing up her whole face, and he thought he'd never seen her look more young, more innocent. and here he was corrupting that innocence, provoking her very carefully, waiting for her to break under the onslaught of sultry, sexy, terrible cruelty. if she didn't, soon, if she didn't break away from him and get the hell out of there, he wouldn't be able to let her go. as it was, his cock was so hard he thought he might burst.
when she answered, her voice was very small. "what do you want me to do?"
he mentally prepared himself for her hatred, for the sight of her retreating back as she left him forever.
he fought to keep his voice mild, fought to withstand the overwhelming sense of self-loathing encompassing his entire being.
"i want you to suck me off, elena. i want you on your knees, with your mouth on my cock."
she looked at him for a long moment, and he waited for her to tell him to go to hell. for her to admit defeat and leave him to his bourbon and his misery.
"the point you're trying to get across is, i have to do what you say, right? unless you tell me you want me to walk away, i have to obey your every command."
his mouth kicked up in a slow smile. "that's about right."
"isn't it convenient, damon?"
"excuse me?"
"that the things you want - what was it? me on my knees? my mouth on you? isn't it convenient that all i can think of is doing those things to you?"
she sent him a slow, sultry smile of her own. and dropped to her knees.