Disclaimer: Not my characters, obviously. Just playing in their world for a while.
Title courtesy of "I Miss You" by Adele. Sexy song, amirite?
Author's note: Soooo, this isn't my usual fare, obvs, but this story has been swirling around in my mind for quite a while. I thought it'd be fun to take my fave characters and pairings from TVD and throw them into a BDSM setting. Because why not?
Rated M for language, smut, and some darker themes later on in the story. If BDSM stories aren't your thing (that's fine!), I'd turn back now if I were you. The story starts out rather tamely, but it will get there, believe me.
I'll be updating as often as I can, but I have two stories in progress at the moment - the other is the TVD/TO crossover story "The Devil You Know," the sequel to "Wait for Me to Come Home," if you're interested in checking that one out - so there will probably be a bit of a delay in posting new chapters.
P. S. - I'm really excited about this one, guys. I hope you like it. Reviews are always appreciated. ;)
Chapter One
"Elena? Can you come here, please?" Caroline's plea is followed by an interesting string of obscenities, and Elena ticks them off on her fingers: three damns, four shits, two fucks, and a sonofabitch. Not bad. "Like soon, maybe?" Caroline adds with a grunt.
"Be right there." Elena adjusts her cleavage for the hundredth time, trying to decide if the last tug on the corset strings was one tug too many. Is it appropriately sexy, or has she crossed the line into model-on-the-cover-of-a-bodice-ripper territory? Caroline hollers again and mumbles about how Elena should be the one who gets punished if they're late.
Giving herself one last once-over in the full-length mirror propped against her bedroom wall, she runs her hands over the satin and lace bustier. It's nice. Dinged-the-credit-card nice, but if things go well tonight, it'll have been worth the splurge.
Hustling into the bathroom before Caroline starts screaming, she discovers her friend wrestling with a pair of shiny, black pants that look like they might be made out of rubber or pleather or . . .
"They're latex," Caroline announces with the confidence of someone who accurately guesses what her friend is thinking on a regular basis. "I need more baby powder. Could you grab the bottle out of my room and bring it here?"
Elena's still puzzling through the mechanics of this particular item of clothing when Caroline snaps her fingers. "Elena. Don't just stand there with your mouth hanging open. We need to get our asses in gear."
"My ass is in gear," she says and strikes a pose. "You like?"
Caroline stops struggling for a second and studies Elena's outfit with the critical eye of a personal stylist. "Love the bustier. I have a cute bolero you can wear over it at least until we get inside." Score one for Caroline. Elena hadn't even thought about the fact that it's mid-February and her puffy winter coat will not jive with the look she's trying to pull off. "Oh. Those are gonna be a problem." Caroline gestures to Elena's boots, which are leather with a spiked heel and stop just below the knee.
Elena frowns and glances at her boots. "Why? What's wrong with them?"
"Well, for one, you're going to be mistaken for a Domme. If you're serious about exploring your submissive side, you don't want to show up dressed to dominate." She giggles and tugs again on the leg of her pants. "Unless you want subs to drop to their knees and offer themselves to you, then by all means."
Damn. So much for rocking her faves. Elena scoots into Caroline's room and grabs the powder, delivers it, and then makes a pit stop at her own room for a quick shoe change. She decides to go with a pair of ballet flats that take her back to her normal height.
Returning to the bathroom, she sticks out her foot for Caroline's approval. "Better?"
"Much." She's wiggled almost all the way into the pants, and Elena is impressed, if not a tad confused.
"You're putting an awful lot of effort into something Nik is just going to rip . . . er, peel off you in a few hours."
Caroline laughs again, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "I'm not wearing them for me, sweetie. I'm wearing them for him," she emphasizes. "You'll understand eventually."
"Yeah, maybe." A flare of panic tightens her chest as she watches her friend put the finishing touches on her makeup. "Care, tell me this is still a good idea. It is, right? 'Cause I'm starting to think I'm in over my head."
"Relax, 'Lena," Caroline soothes. "You'll be fine. Think of it as a fact-finding mission. No strings, just gathering information and eye-stalking hunky Doms." She winks, and the knot of tension between Elena's shoulder blades eases a bit. "While I'm finishing up here, why don't you go grab the jacket out of my closet? It's over on the far-right side."
Elena nods and goes to hunt down the bolero. Caroline's closet is meticulously organized, and Elena finds the jacket exactly where she said it would be. Easing it from the hanger, she rubs the soft, black leather between her thumb and forefinger. She shivers, unsure whether to blame it on the cold weather outside or her nerves. Both, probably.
Shrugging into the jacket, she pauses in front of Caroline's mirror to scrutinize her reflection. The jacket is a perfect addition, and she smiles into the glass. It partially covers the tops of her breasts, which are one sneeze away from bursting free of their satin prison. She tucks a stray piece of hair behind her ear and tries to master the appropriate facial expression for the evening's activities.
She squints and tilts her head to the side. No, that looks like she's forgotten her contacts and can't see anything. How about a raised eyebrow with a side of pout? Ugh. Too Zoolander.
"Okay, I'm ready!" Caroline calls. "Let's go."
Elena hurries into the hallway in time to hear Caroline mutter something about not being able to sit down for a week.
"That sounds . . . unpleasant." Elena grabs her keys and slips them into her purse.
"If we don't get there by 9, you'll understand what I mean." Caroline throws on a mid-length trench coat that covers her exposed shoulders and midriff. The black halter top she's wearing is skimpy and clings perilously to her body with the help of two strings—one that ties behind her back and the other behind her neck.
Ah, so it's a Nik thing. Or a punishment-by-Nik thing, rather. "Gotcha."
Caroline turns to her with a big smile. "Ready?"
Elena tries to mimic her friend, but she's afraid she's missing the mark. "Ready as I'll ever be."
###
The club is a half-hour's drive outside of Atlanta, and Caroline sighs in relief when they arrive with five minutes to spare. She hops out of the car and takes Elena's hand, giving it a squeeze of support. "I know you're nervous, but you don't need to be. Everyone here is friendly and welcoming. They'll love you."
Elena squeezes back. "I hope so."
Housed in a private residence, the establishment known as Midnight is tucked away at the end of a long driveway for added privacy. As they approach the entryway, she takes note of the well-kept grounds and pristine condition of the building. Caroline explained on the way over that the owner of the club had spared no expense in creating his own personal kinky sex haven.
A stone pathway leads to the front door, which is devoid of any decoration save for a large, metal "M" affixed to its center. Caroline knocks twice, and the way is opened by a man with dark blond hair and a kind smile.
"Good evening, Caroline," he greets her before helping her remove her jacket. He drapes it over his arm and turns to Elena. "You must be Elena, Caroline's guest for the evening. My name is Henry."
He offers his hand, and she takes it after a brief hesitation. Her mouth has gone dry, but she swallows and forces words past her numb lips. "Nice to meet you, Henry."
"May I take your jacket?" he asks.
Elena wraps her arms around herself, determined not to surrender the bolero just yet. It might only be made of light-weight leather, but it's her sole protection against the unknown that lies beyond the second set of doors. "No, thank you. I'm still a little chilled from being outside."
Thankfully, Henry only nods and disappears into the coatroom with Caroline's trench. He returns a moment later and opens a drawer in his desk, perusing its contents until he finds what he's looking for. "May I see your hand, please?"
At first, Elena thinks he's talking to Caroline until her friend nudges her arm. "He means you, silly."
"Oh, sorry." Assuming he's going to stamp it or draw an "X" on it with a marker like they do in other clubs, she places her hand in his. She's not expecting the length of dark blue ribbon he loops around her wrist and ties off with a perfect bow.
"There, all set. The ribbon lets others know you're our guest this evening," he explains. "It also tells Dominants you're unattached and approachable."
"Thanks." Caroline must've filled them in on her single-and-ready-to-cautiously-mingle status ahead of time. Her BFF is nothing if not thorough.
Henry steps around the desk and opens one of the inner doors, revealing a large lounge area. There are already quite a few people milling around, and the low hum of conversation drifts out to greet them. Elena feels her nerves start to creep up to the surface, but she tamps them down. Don't chicken out now, Gilbert, she scolds herself.
"Master Nik is expecting you," Henry announces, waving them into the busy room.
Caroline hooks her arm through Elena's and they wade into the crowd. Elena's so busy trying to recall everything Caroline told her about the BDSM scene that she nearly plows into a man in an expensive-looking gray suit that probably cost a quarter of her yearly salary. He cups her elbow to steady her, and she glances up at him, her wide eyes full of apologies.
"Easy there," he murmurs. There's a hint of an accent in his voice, but she can't place it. He brushes a finger over the ribbon adorning her wrist. "Such a lovely flower you've brought into our garden, Caroline."
"Thank you, Master Elijah," Caroline beams. "This is my friend Elena."
"Elena," he repeats. "What a pleasure." He raises her hand to his mouth and presses a kiss there.
Holy hell. She'd been freezing a few minutes ago, but now her skin is on fire. It's too late to pretend she isn't blushing like a teenager who's just been caught making out with her boyfriend in the janitor's closet, so she puts on her best polite smile. "It's wonderful to meet you, M-master Elijah." She trips over the m-word, the one that makes her heart beat faster and heat pool in her lower belly.
"Indeed." He slowly releases her hand, letting her fingers slide through his one at a time. "I hope to see you again later," he says to Elena. "It's not wise to keep Niklaus waiting, Caroline, so I suggest you be on your way to him."
In the midst of trying to sort through her jumbled thoughts, Elena dimly recalls Caroline telling her that Elijah is Nik's older brother.
"Yes, Sir." Caroline nods and turns, her blonde curls swinging back and forth where they spill out of her high ponytail. She searches the room until her gaze lands on her Dom. Nik approaches from the far side of the lounge, an air of confidence and raw sexuality clinging to him like a second skin. He's dressed in a pair of snug-fitting leather pants and a black silk shirt, the top two buttons of which are undone.
When he stops in front of them, Caroline kneels and bows her head, assuming the same position she'd demonstrated for Elena last night. She rests her hands palms-up on her spread thighs and waits patiently for Nik to address her.
"You look ravishing, sweetheart," he murmurs, holding out a hand to her. "You may get up now."
Caroline takes his hand and he pulls her to her feet, and then they're kissing. Elena feels like a voyeur, but she's unable to look away. This isn't your normal, tender, rom-com kiss. This is passion and fire. Dominance.
Nik's hand grips the back of Caroline's head and tilts it until he's satisfied with the angle. Her lips part on a sigh and his tongue slips inside. His other hand closes around her wrist and pulls her tighter against him.
The kiss might go on for days or minutes; Elena's not sure. When he finally breaks it, Caroline is panting softly and sporting a dazed expression. Elena fiddles with the bow on her wrist, trying to ignore the third-wheel feeling that's nagging at her. It's not that she isn't happy for them because she is, one hundred percent. A random person on the street could tell they're completely in love with each other. Elena wouldn't mind finding herself in a relationship like theirs; in fact, she kind of craves it.
Nik saves her from her musings when he releases Caroline and takes Elena's hand, holding it between both of his.
"Good evening, Elena. I'm so glad you could join us." His smile is comforting, and Elena lets out a breath she hasn't realized she's been holding. It's nice to have another familiar face amongst a crowd of strangers. "That's quite the fetching getup, love," he compliments her, twirling her around as if they're dancing. "Something tells me you won't be without company for very long," he adds with a wink. "Now, if you'll excuse us, we need to prepare for the demonstration we'll be giving later tonight. Please feel free to have a drink, mingle, and enjoy yourself. If you have any questions, Elijah, whom I see you've already met, or my sister Rebekah would be more than happy to answer them." He indicates a tall blonde seated at the bar, chatting animatedly with the pixie-haired bartender.
"Thank you, Master Nik." Caroline gives her a thumbs-up for good luck, and then they set off across the room, eventually disappearing through a doorway at the far end.
Left to her own devices, Elena doesn't know what to do. She's not brave enough to sidle up to someone and start a conversation, and alcohol's not an appealing option either. With her frazzled nerves, she'd probably down her drink too quickly and spend the rest of the evening tripping over her own feet. She scans the room and finds an empty table for two in the corner by the bar. It's the perfect vantage spot to study the people milling about and get a better feel for the place.
Sliding into a polished wooden chair, she props her elbows on the table and takes it all in. She isn't sure what she'd been expecting, but this is a pleasant surprise. Everything from the artwork on the walls, to the crystal lighting fixtures, to the mahogany bar is stylish, clean, and elegant. The first image that had popped into her mind when Caroline said the words "BDSM club" was a dungeon with black paint on the walls, dim lighting, pounding music, and sticky surfaces. This is . . . definitely not that.
Elena watches people stroll past, dressed in everything from business attire to full-on fetish wear, although no one is completely nude. There are sheer fabrics and interesting cutouts, but all of the important bits are covered. She spies a few others wearing blue ribbons on their wrists. At least she's not the only newbie.
A snippet of conversation drifts over from the bar, and she hears a man in a leather jumpsuit say, "Master Damon's done a lot with the place. The other clubs don't compare to his." His corseted companion nods in agreement, sipping from her long-stemmed champagne glass.
Master Damon. She remembers Caroline telling her that the owner of the club and Head-Dom-in-Charge is a man named Damon Salvatore, but her bestie failed to mention any specifics about his appearance. She'd thrown around the phrase "gorgeous and intimidating," but that could apply to any number of people in the room. Is he here now, presiding over the gathering, she wonders? The Doms are fairly easy to pick out, most of them donning either well-cut suits with silk ties, head-to-toe leather, or a combination of both, like Nik.
Her curiosity morphs into doubt when she revisits the reason she agreed to be Caroline's guest tonight. Some of the things Caroline's told her are exciting; they make her pulse jump and her thighs rub together with need. Others are . . . terrifying. Elena suspects she has a submissive side, but is it strong enough for her to be a true submissive? Can she hand over the reins to another person? Trust them enough not to hurt her?
All her worrying is making her head ache, and she rubs absently at her temples. Maybe she should go. She can always try coming back on a different night when she's more confident. In the meantime, she can seek out one of the other clubs in the area that doesn't have an exclusive membership and test the waters there, maybe approach a Dom about taking her under his wing.
She's so busy coming up with alternate solutions to her current problem that she doesn't notice the glass of water that appears on the table in front of her.
"Penny for your thoughts," says a smooth male voice.
She jumps and nearly knocks over the glass, but the man's hand shoots out and rights it before more than a few drops are spilled.
"Oh, god. Sorry," she mumbles, grabbing a napkin to mop up the water.
"My fault. I didn't mean to startle you." The man slides into the chair across from hers. "I thought you might like some water. Headache?" he asks.
She sucks in a breath, and Caroline's "gorgeous and intimidating" description flashes in her mind like a neon sign on the Vegas Strip. Could this be the elusive club owner, or another of the resident Doms? The man's eyes are a striking pale blue, a sharp contrast to his dark hair, which appears black in the low lighting given off by the wall sconce. He has a strong jawline and lips that look dangerously soft, like they were designed for the sole purpose of making someone scream in pleasure. His black suit jacket clings to his shoulders, perfectly tailored for his body, and the top button of his matching dress shirt is undone, revealing a glimpse of skin.
It's only after he cocks a dark brow that she realizes how rude she's being. "Crap," she whispers. "I didn't mean to stare. Or ignore your question." She's doing a real bang-up job of making an ass of herself. "Thank you for the water. My head is a little achy."
The corner of his mouth twitches. "Thinking too much?"
Not another mind reader. "Yeah, that's probably it." She takes a sip of water, hoping it'll help cool her off. The way he's looking at her reignites the blaze Elijah lit, only now it's burning even hotter. "I'm Elena, by the way," she introduces herself, deciding that maybe some idle conversation will produce the calming effect she so desperately needs.
"Lovely to meet you, Elena." His voice drops until it's almost a purr. He takes her hand in his and brushes his thumb over her knuckles. "I'm Damon Salvatore. Welcome to my club."