A/N: Written because it needs to happen. Needs to I say!
He's thinking about her legs. The curve and shape of them; how they feel to touch and taste. Even though he's spread them apart, knows the texture on his lips, he still imagines it, thinks about it fresh. What it'd be like to peel her jeans off, her underwear and just, taste her.
He hasn't had sex in months.
Hasn't had sex with her in months.
He's a fool, he knows. A pathetic fool. Not sleeping with anyone because they wouldn't come close to what she felt like. How she sounded. He's such a foold for holding out for only her but nobody seems to have called him out on it and he thinks it's more than a little funny that it's the thing he's been faking the most, the way he wants her, only wants her.
They had great sex. A lot of great sex. He's slept with a lot of women and nothing, no one came close to the way it felt being with her, nothing came close to how it was with her. How extreme and sexy as hell it was with her. How Goddamned turned on he got just by looking at her.
It hasn't been like that ever, with anybody else.
Jenna hadn't been kidding about them making too much noise. And he misses it, her body, just...her.
He doesn't have a favorite spot because he'll be licking across the shell of her breast and feel her belly arch into his and that's suddenly the spot where he wants to seep and kiss forever. He'll be holding her hips, with his head pressed to her stomach and her gasp, high pitched and broken will come out, make him want her even more, be against her even more and that's the spot. Between her legs, feeling her hand clutch a fist full of his hair, pulling, begging him and pleading with him, 'Yes, right there, right there, Stefan, please.'
Fuck, he misses sex with her.
He's thinking about that as he stares, unapologetically, at her, as the three of them stand in her living room. His eyes trail up her body, linger most over her chest. He tries to hide the way he checks her out by focusing on the invitation in her hand and then back on her face. But she's seen it, like she always sees through whatever he tries to mask and hide from her and checks him out right back.
He's seriously wondering if having sex in her bedroom right now would be completely out of the question.
Considering the way she's basically taking his clothes off with just her eyes (hers are already off in his mind), he thinks not. But his brother is less than foot away and their problems, the walls between them are so apparent, so solid he knows that sleeping together would probably make things ten times worse.
But, there's also the chance that it'd make things ten times better. So. Maybe.
Damon makes a comment that Stefan only half pays attention to, and leaves abruptly, slamming the front door behind him. It's unusual for his brother to leave him alone with Elena lately so even as Elena gives him a look that says everything she's feeling and then some, he's wondering when Damon will be coming back.
It's like that now and he hates it. Damon was somehow the space between them even when he wasn't in the room. That space Stefan created by leaving and the space Elena created by having feelings for Damon, even before Stefan had left.
She suddenly looks self conscious, avoiding his eye contact and he wonders if it's because of before or whether it's just the fact that they had nothing to say to each other lately that weren't words underlining things deeper than they both could acknowledge and words they were using only to hurt one another. He's been an asshole to her especially, he knows and he understands, in a way, he does, why she would move closer to Damon. Want to be closer to him. The person who wasn't just vouching for her side and opinion but who also loved her and wanted her in other ways too.
The thought of her having sex with anybody, especially him - Damon - makes Stefan want to rip his own heart out.
"Stefan?" She's saying in a tone that lingers on confusion and he unclenches his fists and unclenches his jaw, looking at her again.
Fuck, he misses her. It was getting difficult lately, to not tell her that.
"Sorry." He says and drops his hands by his sides, making an indication towards the door and she shifts to one side to let him pass. He stops though, when he's against her, lingers there for just a second longer and he hears the way her breathing seems to stagger, like she's protecting herself from whatever he might be giving her. But he keeps moving; realizing only when he's got the door closed behind him, that it wasn't that she had breathed in too sharply, but that she had let out a soft, gentle moan.
She feels like she's going to faint and the dress she practically had to stitch herself into wasn't helping. Nor were the two vampires, standing on opposite sides of the room with their eyes all over her. She has to make a move, has to blend in but they were her bodyguards for the night and wherever she goes, one follows.
She hopes they agreed to take it in shifts.
When he moves barely half a second before she does, for the dance floor, she isn't surprised. Stefan was always better at detecting her instincts than Damon was, or anyone else for that matter.
Stefan falls back though, keeping his distance and Damon's hand is suddenly at her back like they've silently traded off.
"You're doing a sorry job of trying to look like someone who isn't a walking target."
Elena rolls her eyes. "You're doing a sorry job of trying to make me feel better."
She goes to leave but he's quicker, already spinning her around to meet him.
And Elena can feel, like it's burning, Stefan's eyes watching them.
"Come on," Damon starts and his grin is both wicked and warm, a charming skill she's never really grown quite used to but a skill she never really minded that much either, "It would be rude not to dance you know?"
She's having severe déjà vu. Even the song sounds the same, though thankfully their dance moves aren't as stupid as last time. She enjoys it, dancing with him maybe even as much as he does and she hates that she only remembers just as the song is finishing that Stefan was probably still watching them.
He's gone when they stop and though she wasn't even looking for him in the first place, Damon is behind her and whispering lowly in her ear that he wouldn't have wanted to stay for that either.
That, she thinks, wasn't anything.
Damon and her kissed. She has feelings for him. It's not that complicated; it's not that defined.
But she was still in love with Stefan and that's complicated. More defined than anything else.
She needs a drink.
She's not tipsy but she's not exactly sober. Elijah handed her a glass or two as they talked and danced as though nothing out of the ordinary was going on and she thinks the two of them could've actually been friends in a past life, in a different time. Under different circumstances.
But she's buzzed, just a little, as she looks for Stefan. He had been watching her all night from across the room and she was sick of it. Of him suddenly taking a back seat and acting like it was the right thing to do even though he was right there. Watching her. She spots him at the bar and walks up behind him, slapping his arm soft enough to come off as playful but hard enough to get his attention. He grins but looks a little worried as he takes her in, looking her up and down again. She's sick of that too.
"Stop doing that."
"What?" He asks, feigning shock and takes his drink and napkin off the counter, keeping his eyes glued on her.
"That," She tilts her head towards him then gestures to herself as he laughs and takes another sip.
"It's not my fault you look so pretty."
He looks pleased when she opens her mouth to same something in retort but only ends up reclosing it.
"Where'd Damon go?" Stefan asks and looks away from her like he could care less about hearing the answer.
She glares at him because he does care and she's tired of this game, this game they seem to have fallen into playing even though she's sure he knows the rules a lot better than she does.
"Why does it matter? I'm not his babysitter." She crosses her arms over her chest and Stefan puts his empty glass back onto the bar counter, extending out his arm for her instead.
"You wanna dance?" He smirks and she can't help but smile, appreciating the joke, knowing how much he hated to dance.
He loves her though.
Loved, she quickly reminds herself. He loved you.
She doesn't take his arm but turns around to lead them to the dance floor and takes her dress in both her hands when she reaches it, feeling him just at her back.
She can feel heat spreading up her legs, down her arms and hates that he can to that to her even without touching her.
"Elena, I don't bite."
She's laughs, relaxes and he's taking her hand and bringing her around to meet him, chest to chest. Waist to waist. It's so familiar, this, falling into him. Meeting each other in step and in time. They were so on par even after months of pushing and hurting and hating what had happened, to them and to each other.
"We're dancing." He chuckles almost breathlessly and looks down at their feet. Elena squeezes his arm and he lifts his head back up, meeting her eyes.
They were dancing and she's wondering how they ever did it; how they ever spent this time apart and got through it, how disconnected they had become. How connected, being together again, it felt. Like an endless string they were to one another, that lead and lead but wouldn't break no matter how long the string got, or how far apart the two ends grew.
He holds her a little closer, when the song changes to a slow one and it's getting to be just a little too much. A little too good. A little too right. Being back together again. She meets his eyes and finds that his are just as glazed and heavy as hers felt.
"There you are." She whispers and he lets out this sigh, smiles, just a little at her.
"I never left."
The words are on her lips, stuck in her throat and she's frowning at him, her heart suddenly beating too hard but there's a loud crash in the hall and then a scream and Stefan's no longer holding her but pushing her behind him.
"Stay behind me." He yells over the noise of the crowd suddenly rushing in different directions of the room. He takes her hand and pulls her along with him until they're outside on a patio.
"What's going on?" She asks as he lets go of her hand and she can tell by the look on his face that it was hard to hear through the walls of the house.
"Damon is upstairs with Kol, he attacked Rebekah. She had plans to kill you tonight."
She can't process it enough, suddenly feeling winded and she's trying to desperately remember the last place she had seen Caroline when there's another crash and a body suddenly goes flying out onto the law. It's Kol, from the little she can see. A pointed, shiny dagger sticking out of his chest.
"Damn it." Stefan says under his breath and reaches for her hand again but doesn't make any indication to move and she's torn between pushing him away to find Caroline, knowing she wouldn't get far, or staying put.
"Why didn't you tell me? That Rebekah had made plans to kill me tonight?"
Stefan drops her hand, practically throwing it at her and scoffs, shoving his hands in his pockets.
"You assume I knew beforehand and just didn't tell you about it? Letting you be here as bait?"
It's the medical examiner all over again; he turns, too angry to look at her and shakes his head, hearing, just faintly, as Damon bickered with Rebekah upstairs.
"I assume you're prepared to do whatever it takes to get back at Klaus, yes. I assume the worst Stefan, because you told me to believe it."
He spins around before she's finished, coming towards her. His fits are clenched and though she knows he won't hurt her, she knows he's angry enough to hurt something else, someone else, himself.
"I told you to stop wasting your hope on me, so you wouldn't be found, so you would be safe without me. I'm not safe Elena, I'm not good."
She almost laughs but knows better and locks her jaw, glaring at him; she can feel herself trembling with anger.
"I've heard that before."
"Yeah and you naively didn't believe it before and look where that got you."
Elena shakes her head, "I kept looking because we were in love and together, because you try so hard to pretend that you're this other person when I can see it, so clearly, that you're really in there. That you keep pushing me away, hoping I'll give up even though the idea of it breaks your heart. I broke your heart, Stefan."
Stefan now looking at the floor, no longer angry, shuts his eyes. It's a couple seconds before he opens them, turning his head to look at her.
"I broke yours."
Elena steps forward, walks towards him. He doesn't move, lets her come for him like she knew he would and it's like they're suddenly dancing all over again, shoulder to shoulder, chest to chest. He takes his hands out of his pockets and finds himself only staring at her lips.
"You still love me." She accuses softly and he can't say anything, doesn't say a word.
Elena hesitates, looks down for a second; her heart is pounding. She can smell him, feel him and it's so intoxicating, she's dizzy.
His eyes darken as she glances at his lips, "You still want me?"
Stefan waits for her to look at him again, brings his body against her.
"More than anything."
He rips her dress.
Because he wasn't about to deal with all those buttons, not when there were heated wet kisses and tongues and meeting in the middle. When he tried to unbutton the first, she grabbed his hand and told him to just rip it.
They're naked so quickly, it leaves them both breathless when she's against her bed and he's hovering above her. She can't catch her breath enough, can't look at him enough. Focus enough. Remember enough. Feel enough.
Feeling so much.
He starts at her collarbone, making a line with his finger, back and forth. He's memorizing her, she realizes. Watching him watch her, and remember her, remember this.
"You're perfect." He tells her and he's only on her collarbone.
She shuts her eyes; hates that she's crying and lets him memorize her all over.
When he's sinking into her, their noses and foreheads meet, come together, and she swears she's never been able to see another person so clearly. She's never been able to drown and forget that she's still intact with anyone other than him.
He takes her hands and they entwine, rocking into a rhythm. Her legs encircle his waist and he curls a hand around her thigh, getting leverage and squeezing. He moans out her name so long she's not sure if he's ever going to stop. Doesn't ever want him to stop. "Oh god, oh god, please, please Stefan," She breathes and he's kissing the side of her neck, going deeper.
She rolls her hips just so, licks her tongue against his bottom lip and she comes before he does, kneading him in the back with her heel and whispering filthy things into his ear and he's gone, knocking against her, panting her name breathlessly.
This house is empty, thank god because he's pretty sure he's going to take her against ever surface of it.
Every. Single. Surface.
She looks at him, her face glistening with sweat and he kisses her chin twice before her lips, tasting her. Loving her. Missing her. Remembering her.
"So..." He breathes and Elena grins against his chin, biting her lip and threatening to make him fall apart all over again, right then.
She pushes at his chest lightly and he rolls over, watching as she climbed off the bed, pulling the sheet up to her chin. Her hair falls down her back and he can still see her, all of her through the thinness of the cotton. He'll never let her go again, he swears.
She stops just at her door, turning around, her eyes soft and warm.
"You following me or what?"
Yeah, they had great sex.