A/N: After the traumatic finale, I was thinking that Bonnie and Damon would end up going to the Dark Dimensions (from the books) so this is where this is coming from. I don't know if I'll continue it unless I feel more inspired, but until then enjoy!
He watches her enter, draped in a dazzling deep blue gown, her brown curls cascading down her shoulders in tumbling waves, her head held high in the enormous crowd of elegantly dressed people.
She smiles at the guests, the picture of perfection, her eyes darting frantically around, looking for something. She accepts the champagne tinged with blood, creating a pretty pink color and allows the tall, unfamiliar man twirl her around for a few moments, indulging in his whims to extract information.
He sips at his bourbon leisurely, blue eyes glued to her like a moth to a flame. She looks beautiful, exceedingly so, it makes his head spin and everything in him begs to steals her away from the crowd. He sighs when the witch finds her amongst the rowdy guests and waits a beat as they speak.
Her eyes dart up not a moment later and he feels a shiver run down his spine as she gazes up at him with those doe brown eyes, so curious and knowing all at once. He smirks and tilts his tumbler of bourbon in greeting. She's gone in a heartbeat and he knows it won't take longer than a few unnecessary breaths.
She slams open the golden doors to the balcony room, her furiously determined gaze clashing with the hesitant steps towards him. "Enjoying the party, Elena?" She narrows her eyes and stands still as he closes in on her.
Her honeysuckle scent makes his mouth water, and the need to press closer and inhale her perfume becomes a burning need in him. He takes in the curves of her lips painted a light pink, the kohl around her eyes making her brown eyes shine, even as the worry creases between her brows. "Pretty dress," he says, understatement heavily implied as his gaze consumes her perfect curves in dark blue, sleek material.
"Lady Ulma made it for me." "Oh she did, did she? Getting chummy with the people here, Elena?" She blushes, her cheeks turning a mesmerizing scarlet and tucks a strand of her behind her ear. He resists the urge to mindlessly run his fingers through her chocolate locks. "Well, it's not like you're doing us any favors." He scoffs, plastering on a mock expression of hurt and leans closer, until he can feel her breath on his lips; the sweetest torture. God, he wants to kiss her.
"How do you think you got invited to this thing, Elena?" Her eyes fall to his lips and he grins. She takes the drink from his hand and swallows down the amber liquid in one swallow, her pretty eyes challenging him. "You're not the king of everything." He laughs at the petulance in her voice, and strolls away from her to the large mahogany desk, leaning against it to face her. "Here? I certainly am."
She raises an eyebrow at his smug expression and smiles mischievously as she steps closer, practically gliding towards him, the silver necklace around his neck catching his attention. Her daylight ring.
"We're in the land of the dead," she says slowly, as if trying to explain something to a child. "We fit right in," he shrugs and smirks as she shakes her head lightly. She's close enough to lean over him; her hand reaches out to adjust his tie.
He drinks her in, his eyes hungrily roaming over the curves of her breasts beneath her silk gown, her collar bones, her neck, her parted lips, her gorgeous brown eyes. He can feel the heat from her body when she steps closer still, her breath on his lips intoxicating.
"We have to go back, Damon. We don't belong here." He grabs her hand as it reaches out to cup his cheek, and holds it steady, feels the spark as their skins touch. "I belong here," he says fiercely, and she tilts her head, pries her hand loose as her perceptive eyes watch him intently. Her finger tips on his chin make his breath stutter.
"No, you belong back home, with me." He can't, he can't let himself believe that, believe her, but he wants to, god, he wants to. He pulls her hand away again, her touch makes him unstable makes him want more. "That's not my home, Elena." He sees the flash of hurt in her eyes, before it's replaced with frustrated anger.
"Damn it, Damon! It's my home." He stands up, closer to her when she fists his suit in her hands, her proximity and alluring scent making him dizzy with desire. He can feel her heart beat through her clothes, the swells of her breasts pressed against his chest, her parted lips an open invitation, but he resists a last, precious few seconds, drinking in the heady need and want he feels thrumming through his veins.
"I never asked you to follow me, Elena." She licks her lips and slides a hand down his chest, tugging him closer, their noses bump and she smiles. He needs to stop, he should- "I know." His arms comes around her waist, and he knows he's crumbling, knows this is a very bad idea, but it's her, and she's so damn compelling.
"I'll always follow you, Damon." He kisses her tasting her words on her tongue, devouring her in deep, swirling emotions of want and need and lust and love, drowning them both into an unknown sea.
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