AN: This is set during 3.14. Reviews would be greatly appreciated, and hope you enjoy! Should have some other stuff up fairly soon.

Lately he's been looking at her more and more, eyes lingering on her the way they used to, taking in every bit of her. It's that look, the one that makes her feel naked even though she's fully clothed, and makes her feel all shaky and warm inside, still not entirely believing that someone loves and wants her that much. Elena's not sure how it happened, how Stefan went from barely glancing at her to actually looking at her again. She'd like to talk to him, have an actual conversation that's not just the latest crisis update or news about yet another roadblock on the way to normalcy, but though Stefan could look at her again without seeing her bloody and pale (she assumes) he didn't exactly go out of his way to find her alone or even talk to her. It's driving her a little crazy.

He misses her like crazy. More and more he thinks about her, unable to stop himself from thinking about her smile, the little face she makes when she reads something she disagrees with, the delicious circle her mouth forms when he touches her. Yeah, he thinks about sex a lot, sex with Elena because he's so damned whipped thinking about fucking other people wasn't the same, fucking Elena's different than all the others.

Thinking about fucking Elena was one of the greatest forms of torture for Stefan. He lost her, he left her. He bit her, he nearly killed her. And he loves her, he can't stop loving her or fall out of love with her and he can never get her back no matter how much he wants her. And he does want her.

Since admitting to Damon that he loves Elena, it's changed between them; Damon looks at him differently, studies him whenever they're with Elena like he's trying to figure out if Stefan was telling the truth or not. They're together a lot, the three of them, and it's odd, strange, disconcerting. His brother and his love and... Stefan doesn't know what he is to either of them now that he's gone off the rails. Sometimes he thinks Elena goes out of her way to avoid him, but then she looks at him and it's like she's undressing him in her mind (he does that too), sometimes he thinks when she walks by him he hears her breath catch in her throat. They're rarely alone now because Damon won't let them be alone, and even when they are alone Damon's always there, and so is the Ripper and a million ghosts, and Stefan hates that.

Just saying the words, "I love Elena" changed things because Stefan can't take back the words just like he can't erase his feelings for her. He tried, even though it hurt like hell. Then he realized that no matter what, he couldn't stop loving her and that, with everything he's done, being in love with Elena and being unable to be with her again was in fact right after all because he'd never stop suffering. So he forces himself to watch Damon and Elena together, watches the way his brother looks at Elena and instead of making him relieved that someone loves and cares about her, it just makes him want her more, makes him resent his brother and want to press Elena against the wall, kissing her hard. He wants to tell her that he loves her, but something holds him back.

He doesn't like not being alone with her. He doesn't like holding one of her arms while Damon holds the other. He wants her all to himself, and it's not fair to her because he can't even give all of himself to her, can't even tell her that he loves her. So even though he lets his hand linger on her glove, he lets Damon be the one to dance with her.

Watching her dance with Damon hurt like hell.

Going from Damon's arms to Stefan's was jarring to say the least, and dancing with him, with both of them, was bizarre and strange. She's not exactly comfortable dancing with Damon, but Stefan's arms are both comfortable and uncomfortable, familiar and dangerous all at once. Elena's breath caught in her throat and it wasn't just because of the tight bodice of her dress. Despite everything that's happened between them their bodies automatically move closer together, their hips pressing together as they dance chest-to-chest; they're close, so close, too close for where they are now, for what they've done to each other. He's staring at her like he's undressing her and so is she, she's breathing like they're already alone and naked in her bedroom, Stefan hovering over her, pressing her into the mattress.

She loves dancing with him, loves the closeness of their bodies together, and she can hardly tear her eyes away from his; actually, she can hardly think clearly right now because he's giving her that look and holding her so tightly and yet so gently, like she's the most precious thing in the world to him. As much as she wants to, though, Elena can't let herself relax, has to force herself to think of the reason why she's here.

If only they were in another time and place, where they could just dance together and not worry about bloodlust or Originals or whatever the hell their mother wants with her. If Klaus's mother is anything like Klaus, Elena has a lot to be worried about. She forces herself to think about that, to focus on her next move before she gets too comfortable being in Stefan's arms again.

Stefan found Elena in the library, sipping another glass of wine and running a hand over the books, tracing the faint titles. For a moment he simply watches her, wanting more than anything to go and wrap his arms around her, touch the folds of her skirt, finger the buttons at the back. Better still he wanted to whisper that he loves her and press her against the shelves, fumble with her skirt, feel her legs wrap around his, her breath hot and fast against his ear as they fuck against the bookshelf.

Not that that would help things, especially as they were now. Sometimes he caught her looking at him and it's exactly like before, when all she had to do was look at him and he'd be gone; it's never been like that before, not with anyone. They've been mostly avoiding each other, but now when they're in the same room it's like there's a charge between them, they're drawn together and can't avoid each other, their hands automatically reaching for each other even as they try to look away.

"How old do you think these are?" Elena asks suddenly. "Are they actually old or just those fake ones, the ones that are only for show?"

Stefan shrugs and slowly wandered into the room. "Can't say any of them strike me as big readers." Maybe Elijah, definitely not Klaus.

He wanted to ask her how the meeting had gone, but knew that would have to wait until they were out of the Originals' earshot, preferably when they were out of their house and he wondered how much longer they'd have to stay there.

Elena shivered, wished that she could just go home. Even her dark and lonely house would be better than this, smiling and dancing with the people she'd just condemned to die, dancing with the man she loves who no longer cares about anything except killing Klaus. Maybe when she tells him the news, maybe then he'll allow himself to hope.

"Are you okay?" Stefan murmurs and Elena wanted to either laugh or cry. "What do you care?" she muttered, barely loud enough for him to hear.

"I-" he cut himself off before he could finish. He cares so much it hurt, but telling her that, that he cared for her, wanted her, loved her, wouldn't make it easier. It would just make it harder for her to have a normal life, harder for him to let her go.

"Why did you dance with me?" she whispered, standing directly in front of him and he can't look away from her. Not that he's ever been good at that, but especially not now when she looked so beautiful and her eyes were boring into his-it's like he's caught in a beam and can't escape.

"Because Carol Lockwood made me dance. She can be intimidating," he says, trying to sound like he doesn't care.

"Stefan. Why did you dance with me?" Elena pressed. "You've been avoiding touching me like it hurts you to touch me."

It did hurt to touch her because a simple touch, a pat on the shoulder, wasn't enough for him. Every time they accidently brush hands it jolts both of them, reminding them of past caresses and hugs they'd loved so much. Dancing with her-well, that was something he enjoyed, even as he tried to act calm and cool, like touching her no longer affected him even as his hands tightened around her.

"I like dancing with you," Stefan admits, barely able to look at her.

"Like". Not "liked". Just the simple difference in tenses caused a million questions in Elena's mind and she stepped even closer, bridging the gap between them; they're as close as they were on the dance floor and she can't tear her eyes away from Stefan's, and he can't either. Slowly, she reaches for his hand and they're both breathing heavily now, so close together, lips moving closer...

They hear it at the same time, the growing commotion in the hall and Stefan's the first one to break apart, quickly turning away from her as he left the room.

Damon's timing was impeccable as usual.

They end up driving in her car because Damon was nowhere to be found and Stefan doesn't trust the Originals to leave Elena alone, especially not Rebekah. He kept thinking about the library, of how close he came to breaking his rules, and resolved to be cold and standoffish with her, brusquely questioning her and barely looking at her. Just let her go, that's all he has to do and she'll be able to have a normal, happy life.

Still, she didn't make it easy. She sounded so drained and lost, and even though it confused him, Stefan kind of loved the fact that Elena's so conflicted about helping kill the Originals. Katherine wouldn't have given it a second thought, Damon would have been gleeful and cackling, even he wouldn't have hesitated to sign the death warrant of the family that destroyed his life and so many other lives. Elena was freaking out about it, even though they've (okay, maybe not all of them) caused her so much pain and that only confirms what Stefan thought, that she's better than them, that she deserves so much better.

He loves her and he can't be with her, so he tries to leave as quickly as possible.

Stefan had almost closed the door when Elena pushes it open. "Stefan," she says quietly and he froze. Wasn't it bad enough that he had to walk away from her?

She stares at him, the familiar man who's become a stranger to her. "Do you really not care?"

He looks at her and Elena's heart stopped because suddenly she knew and she can't believe how she didn't see it before. "Why lie about it?"

"I-" Stefan can't do this, not with her, not now. "I can't let myself care."

"Why?" Elena steps closer to him, her hands reaching for him. "Stefan, why?"

"Because I bit you, Elena," he blurts out and grabs her hands. "Because I hurt you, Elena, because if I let myself care it'll be too painful."

His eyes plead with her, begging her to listen, to let him go because he forced himself to let her go long ago even though he loves her. More than anything he wants to kiss her, but if he kisses her everything would become that much harder.

With all the strength he has left Stefan releases her hands and walks away from her; he's done that so many times it should be easy by now and it was anything but. Elena watched him leave, breathless, her heart racing as she watched him melt into the darkness. To hell with that. To hell with watching him walk away.

"Stefan," she calls out and stumbles down the porch, momentarily forgetting about her skirt.

At the sound of her voice Stefan froze, panicking about what she would say, afraid that no matter what she said he wouldn't be able to walk away.

"Stefan," Elena repeats, her voice soft when she reaches him. There are a million things she wants to say-care about things and forgive yourself and I hate it when you walk away-and all she can murmur is, "I love you."

There's a frantic look on his face when he turns to face her. "How?"

"I don't know," Elena whispers. "I love you," she repeats. "I want you," she tells him, her fingers slowly tracing his face and this time Stefan didn't pull away.

Instead he kisses her.

Stefan grabs her face and kisses her deeply, holding her like he'll never let her go and Elena eagerly responds, both of them kissing like their lives depend on it, kissing hard and heated and long. Elena's barely able to catch her breath before they start again. If any of her neighbors were looking out the window they were certainly getting a hell of a show and Elena doesn't give a damn; how could she think about nosy neighbors when Stefan was kissing her and holding her, and she's melting against him.

He didn't realize how much he missed this, her lips and tongue, their teeth clashing and her body pressing against his. He missed her, will never get over how much time they've lost, but he can't think about that now, not with her tongue circling his.

They stumble as they move to the front door, Elena tugging his hair and Stefan running his hands over her back, their lips frantically kissing and tongues dueling. Slamming into the door they almost fall, and Elena knows that if they had they wouldn't have bothered getting up, that they would have just fucked in the front hall and she'd have been perfectly fine with that. As it is when she closed the door Stefan pinned her against it, lips attacking the back of her neck and she wants to tear both of their clothes off; her moans fill the house as his tongue laps at her neck, tracing and kissing her skin, and her hips roll against his, making him moan in her ear. He picks her up and whisks them up the stairs while she covers his face with kisses, pushing his jacket off and fumbling with the buttons on his shirt. Luckily her room's right by the stairs because she doesn't know how much longer they can last.

"Just tear it off," Elena begs him as Stefan fingers the back of her dress, dancing across the tiny buttons. "Please, Stefan."

Another time he wouldn't have listened to her, would have undressed her as slowly as possible, torturing both of them as he delicately fingered every inch of revealed skin, making both of them dizzy with desire. Not now. Now Stefan tore the dress off of her body and threw it aside before attacking her underwear; soon all of their clothes (much of it ripped and torn) are on the floor and they're on her bed, hands greedily exploring, lips locked in open, sloppy kisses.

"Stefan," Elena gasps as his hand moves between her legs. She clutches his back as his fingers caress her. "Stefan."

"Yes, love," Stefan smiles at her, his other hand skims her side, caresses her breast.

"Please..." she rocks against him and he's all too happy to comply.

He's not satisfied until he's kissed and touched every inch of her; he needs to memorize her again, know her again. Elena shivers when Stefan's eyes meet hers again, and wonders how the hell there can be so much there, love and passion and lust, wonders how he hid that from her for so long. It makes her blush, the look in his eyes, the desire on his face that she know is mirrored on hers, it makes her shy and deliriously happy, ready to cry and smile all at once.

Their lips are bruised now and they can't stop kissing. He tilts his forehead against hers, both watching as he slides inside of her and Elena spreads her legs even farther apart, digging her nails into his back. They try to move slowly at first, hips gently rocking, but that didn't last long before they're moving wildly, Elena whispering deliciously dirty things into Stefan's ear that made him thrust harder, faster as he sucks on her skin. She actually bites his neck and he cries her name before his lips find hers, her feet kneading his back, her hands pressing against his ass. They come within seconds of each other, both shaking and screaming and not bothering to hide anything at all. Stefan remains on top of her, remains inside of her, stroking her sides and Elena hugs him close, her hands caressing him, moving over his body.

"I could stay like this forever," Stefan whispers.

Elena touches his face as she murmurs, "So could I."

After a while he rolls off of her and Elena immediately melts against him, snuggling into his side, wrapping her arms around him and he tugs her closer.

"If you even think about leaving I will tie you to this bed with vervain-soaked ropes," she informs him.

Stefan chuckles and warmth spreads throughout Elena's body. He pulls her on top of him, grabbing her leg as he tells her, "I like the rope idea."

She kind of does too.

It's a good thing Alaric's still in the hospital because they make absolutely no effort to be quiet, not that they've ever been quiet. Jenna hadn't been all that much of a light sleeper, but back then they somewhat tried to keep it down, mindful of Jenna and Jeremy, how ever bred creak or muffled groan could lead to a potential knock on the door that would have embarrassing (at the least) consequences. That night they didn't bother at all, Stefan taking particular pleasure in making Elena cry out his name multiple times, Elena smirking when she makes him groan her name.

"You trying to kill me?" he asks when she collapses on top of him, her tongue still ghosting along his neck, her hands squeezing his skin.

Elena nips his ear. "That's the last thing I want."

Her room's a wreck-she thinks they've fucked on every possible surface and then some; she'll never be able to look at her desk chair without blushing ever again. It's been hours and they're still not sated, not nearly done, his hand's already grabbing her ass and his lips began to move down her body and she's moaning yet again. Stefan's sucking on her breast and her back arches and he moves downward, her hands grabbing his hair and fuck, she's missed this, missed him.

Then her stomach emits an embarrassingly loud growl, one that seems to go on for ages.

"Hungry?" Stefan laughs against her thigh and Elena flushes. "I kind of didn't eat all day... what? I had to fit into my dress and I was way too nervous to eat anyways. Plus I kind of thought Klaus might poison the hors d'oeuvres or something."

Stefan quirks an eyebrow as he rubs her hip. "I kind of thought he would too." He moves back up to touch her lips as he murmurs, "Shall we?"

They partially dress, Stefan in his boxers and Elena in what remains of his dress shirt, only partially buttoned because she apparently ripped some of those off. He can't stop staring at her and she blushes, knowing he's already thinking about pulling the shirt off of her and she is too, already she can't breath thinking bout it. His lips, his hands, him.

They barely make it out of her room before Elena presses Stefan against the wall, running her hands over his chest and slipping them underneath his boxers, their kisses rough and open, hips already moving together. It's like that for the rest of the night, managing a few steps into a different room before they're coming together, falling apart together, unable to pull away from each other.