Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.
I know it's a little late coming, but this is my Delena fic for 4x23. Continuation of the kiss scene, because my heart is never going to get over it.
"I love you, Damon," she says.
No. That can't be right. There's no way that those words just tripped so naturally from Elena's lips. She – no, no way, this isn't real – come on, she just told him that he's been a terrible person, just said this is will probably prove to be the worst choice she's ever made. There's no way that in spite of that, that she could still think – that she could still feel...
"I love you," she says. She says it like it's obvious, like nothing else was ever even remotely a possibility. His breath catches and he stares at her for a second and then he's closing the gap between them in two long strides and he's kissing her.
Words aren't his forte, even though sometimes she inspires him to come out with things that are close to monologues. He can't talk now. The things this girl is making him feel are too encompassing. He has to try and show her with his actions, and he needs a way to deal with the passion that's consuming him.
His hands reach either side of her neck and she mirrors him. The fire flickers beside them, but the warmth coming from it on his left side is nothing compared to the heat that emanates from both of them and wraps around each other. Elena's pushing harder against him now, becoming rougher. And he gets it, he understands. Months of everyone doubting them and condemning them - and two years of dancing around each other, skirting around the reality of their emotions – had built up, and now, everything was exploding, shattering, and leaving a need so great and so urgent that Damon has barely registered that he's finally here, finally getting to be with the girl he loves, before she's pushed him across the room and fallen on top of him on the couch.
She's pushing her hands up his shirt, growling into his mouth when it won't go where she wants it to (which is off) and starts to tear open the buttons. Damon's hands reach up and pull her hips against him. He just wants her closer, just wants to feel her, just wants confirmation that she's actually here and this is actually happening.
"Love you, Elena Gilbert," he says, the words swallowed by her mouth as their tongues fight.
And then, because after everything it's like his mind has programmed itself to be constantly alert to anything and everything self–destructive, he remembers Bonnie and Jeremy and that it must be at least 11 by now and the moon is probably almost full.
"Elena," he chokes out. "Elena, we can't-"
She ignores him. She presses her lips harder against his, rolls her hips with more ferocity against his. She presses her hand on his sternum and pushes him deeper onto the couch.
His hand reaches up and clings in her hair. He forgets for a moment why it was they couldn't, can't think of what possible reason there could be for them to stop now after finally, finally, finding their way to each other. No catch, no confusion, and no damn sire bond. Just them and the heat of their bodies and their confessions of love still sweet on each others' lips.
She's running one hand down his chest and the other is cradling his neck as she trails wet kisses down his jaw. He angles his head and catches her bottom lip between his teeth. His hand finds the back of her neck and he traces it lightly. She shivers.
"Elena," he whispers into her mouth. "Elena, the moon is almost full."
For a moment, her lips keep moving against his, and then she pulls away with a pop as the suction breaks.
"What time is it?" Elena asks. He can taste her breath, she's so close to him.
"It's after 11," he says. He sees her hesitate for a second. She needs to find Bonnie, needs to say goodbye to Jeremy – but she doesn't want him to think she's running out on him, not now, not when things are finally going right.
"You do what you need to do, Elena," he murmurs. "I'll be here when you want to come home."
She presses one last kiss against his lips. It's light and it's fleeting, but it's a promise that doesn't need words. It's the promise of soon and it's the promise of now.
Because finally, finally – this is their time.