Title: The Washcloth

Disclaimers: I don't own any supernatural powers or anything else to do with TVD. If I had, Delena would happen a lot more often!
Genre: supernatural, hurt/comfort, romance.

Rating: PG-15

Summary/Set/Pairing: right after the last Delena scene we've seen at the end of season 2, just cause the washcloth was so underused.

Elena looked back at Damon, biting her lips, a myriad of thoughts and emotions chasing each other and mixing like mush in her head. Katherine had sped away, not giving her a chance to ask for more specifications, or the whereabouts of Stefan. She had to find him herself. Elena felt a strong pull to rush out the door and downtown to Rick's, perhaps there would be a clue there, even if Klaus was not around anymore. But a brief look at Damon told her she could do no such thing.

"Easy, easy, Damon!" She exclaimed, watching his struggle trying to sit up grunting, "you need to lie back down a little, ok?" She knelt on the bed like Katherine had before and supported his back as he eased himself onto the pillow. Not as if he had a choice. The debilitating, consuming fatigue was gone, yet his limbs felt weighed down with lead and the room span with a sickening effect when he lifted his head. He closed his eyes again tightly to countereffect the phenomenon.

"Damon!" Elena panicked, shaking his arm, but only a little as she was not sure if she would be hurting him, given in how much pain he had been in previously. "Come on Damon, you have to drink the rest of this blood," she raised the glass vial to his lips.

The ailing vampire groaned. Drinking and feeling sick at the same time was not a good combination. "Later. I'm kinda nauseous."

Elena nodded, her brows furrowing in concern once more. If he was sick, would that mean the precious cure could go to waste? That Damon could still die? "Are you feeling any better?" She demanded frantically, checking his temperature by touching his forehead. He did seem a little less feverish, but could she be sure?

"I think so," he not much more than guessed, just like her. So he could be further convinced, he raised his hand to look at the site of the bite. They both stared and did a doubletake at the sight. Damon had to lift his arm almost up to his nose till he could see any evidence of what had been there. A scar and some faint rosy swelling was all that remained. "Why am I not back to normal?" Damon shook his head, confused expression coming back to replace relief.

Not as if he had to be reminded of the spasms that were plaguing his body not so long ago, "the toxin has flooded your whole system," Elena suggested, closing her eyes for a moment herself in relief. If the bitemark was almost totally gone, she felt it was more likely he could not regress now, sick or not. Only timescales could change. "It might take a while to rid itself of it and it could also really be that you'll need to down the whole bottle."

Damon nodded a little uncertainly and held out a hand for the vial. Elena didn't pass it completely over to him, but supported his weak, shaking hand to his mouth and waited patiently till he took his time with slow mouthfuls, then sat the glass on the bedside table, "how are you feeling now?"

"Sorry, still a little queasy," he rubbed a hand over his upper stomach, and winced.

"Wait, I've got an idea," she sped out to the bathroom almost with vampire speed and returned with a bowl of cold water and two towels this time, "maybe it's the fever making you feel sick, that happens," she told him in case he forgot a long time ago how it was to be unwell as a human, "let's bring it down even more," she smiled at him, pulling his hands to his sides and starting to swiftly unbutton his sticky, drenched shirt. Pulling the fabric aside, to her credit she paused no longer than a few seconds as her hormonal self took in the sight of his chest and abdominals. He had been trying to impress her with showing off his body before and she'd always blocked it out as an annoyance she had to put up with, but her mind was too hazy from all the worry and anxiety of the last few days for her conscious control to dominate. She blinked herself back to focus, and yet her hands ran down his well toned perfect chest unnecessarily when she reached back for her towel.

"There," Elena reassured him, placing the cold washcloth on his tummy, "it should help calming down your stomach, it helps me if there's something wrong," she explained. Then she grabbed hold of the other cloth and set off to cool the rest of him bit by bit, gently, sympathetically. She started with his forehead, the sides of his face, his neck, arriving once more to that delectable, flawless chest of his. The human girl found it took some conscious effort from her to concentrate elsewhere than the feel under her fingers and the slight curves they mounted, but she washed him as well as she could under the circumstances, going as far on his sides as she could with the shirt still under his back.

"You wanna take it off?" The young woman tugged at his sleeves, but he shook his head and swallowed, "I'd rather not move just now just in case."

Elena didn't force the issue any further, but she did believe he had to be cooled down some more, not to mention how feeling less icky and sticky would be a benefit. Taking his boots and socks off was easy and she quickly gave his soles a wipe, but she knew that would not make all that much difference. Considering removing his pants, Elena blushed a great deal, but looking him up and down in her discomfiture she realised he not only had his eyes shut, but had been surprisingly calm and submissive during the whole washing down procedure so far. Elena found it impossible that in the state he was in he would be having any sexual thoughts and she bit her lip, feeling thoroughly embarrassed for having those inappropriate ideas herself. Damon could not kiss her back a few minutes ago, and although there were signs of improvement, his silence and stillness indicated she will be safe carrying on with nursing him in the manner his condition asked for.

With a slight shake of the hands she could not suppress, Elena handled the button on his trousers, then slid the zipper down, taking a big breath and containing a shiver at the feel of the springy softness of the hair of his pleasure trail and his tiled abs. Gliding his trousers down from under him felt a very awkward thing to do and she wondered whether she should call Alaric now that the worst was over, but then decided she wanted to make Damon feel better sooner than later and resumed washing him down from head to toe.

Little did she know that his eyes were closed because he not only avoided eye contact, but refused looking at her lovely appearance in any shape or form. It was bad enough having to bear up to her touch and not show her how much he would've wanted to have her in his arms once again. Damon had a hard job suppressing his desires in bare pants, exposed like that, but he just had to keep reminding himself that it was completely inappropriate given the circumstances and most importantly, it might ruin the moment, in fact in might jeopardize their established, but shaky intimacy for good. He could not let his penis react, he could not, he repeated like a mantra guiltily. It helped, as it reminded him of where Stefan got to for his sake. However, he was not strong enough to chase Klaus down yet, and so there he was, not capable of doing much else than endure the torture of having Elena so close and caring and not being able to do anything about it. Taking a shaky breath and grinding his teeth, a groan eventually escaped him.

Elena paused and raised her head, "Damon? You ok?"

The vampire thanked heavens he was too pale to be able to blush right now. Frantically thinking about what his excuse could be for the groan, he rubbed a hand over his stomach. He had complained about it earlier, it was maybe plausible to blame his moan on pain. Not to mention that if Elena suspected anything, she would immediately stop those enjoyable ministrations. "A little sore still," he held a palm on his abdomen, peeking at her with a sheepish expression. He had to find out whether she believed him.

Elena rolled her eyes. "A little? I wonder what little sore means for a vampire. Here, let me change this for you," Elena wrung the washcloth out that she had previously placed on his belly and started to make gentle, round patterns with it soothingly like a massage on his upper stomach and round his navel. "Is that helping?"

Damon nodded and closed his eyes again. It was pleasurable all right, but far enough from his groins not to cause him to noticeably harden if he was careful enough. The young woman sighed, relieved that she could make a difference. She hated seeing him in pain. But now that he was a bit better, his skin a lot cooler and his previously sweaty skin clean and soft, and gaining colour, her mind started to wonder again as she watched the water trail her own fingers made and droplets making their way round and down his perfect torso. With Stefan gone and Damon barely safe from death's clutches, how could she have such a strong desire to explore that area hidden to her under his pants.

She had heard about his manhood, yes. She had heard about his expertise and persistence with which he could please a woman. Not all the memories Caroline had gained back after becoming a vampire about her relationship with Damon were bad, far from it and the blonde had shared some with her friends.

Elena's hand wandered off by own accord while thinking about her friend's words, over his lower stomach and across that pleasure trail, the tip of her thumbnail barely, but definitely meandering into the hem of his underwear along the soft tuft of the hairs that disappeared under the fabric. She immediately felt a gush of strong desire that shook her to her senses, so pretending that was she was going all along, she started kneading the muscles around his belly button with the washcloth like a form of wet massage.

Her little escapade shook the boundaries of his self control. Feeling his penis stretching against the thin fabric of his underwear, he was in danger of loosing his shaky self control. He could take no more of her touch, not unless it was for torture and not the comfort she was intending. With panicky eyes and shaking with want, he gathered his strength and turned away from her to his side. "Thank you, Elena. I think it'd be best if I'd tried sleeping the rest of the infection off now. I'm truly feeling a lot better, don't worry now."

"Ok," Elena wheezed quickly, partially relieved that she did not have to navigate on treacherous waters anymore, but also somewhat thwarted that she couldn't continue with what she was enjoying so much. She rubbed at her forehead with her sleeves, only now realizing she was sweating as well from the intensity and ardency or the moment. Back on track. Stefan. She should text Stefan and she will, right after making sure Damon was comfortably asleep with a light cover over him.

Tbc