Disclaimer: I do not own the characters mentioned, I do not own the Vampire Diaries – I was, however, born the year the first book was published.
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Damon looked at Elena, watched every flicker of emotion in her eyes flare and disappear—she was giving herself up? He couldn't believe it. Though, somewhere in the back of his mind, there was that same voice telling him that he did. That he knew why she was surrendering, why she was still standing before him, trembling, but not running away.
"Elena," he said his voice low and pleading. He wished he could hide the trace of want in his voice, his need for her. She still stared at him, even when she shifted under the intensity of his gaze. He needed her to run.
"I'm not going anywhere, Damon," she said, her voice trembling, yet so sure. It made his heart beat faster in his chest—his human heart. The thought made him wrinkle his nose in disgust, his lip curl. She flinched.
He'd hurt her.
He shook his head quickly and pulled her into his arms, not worrying about the strength that had been stolen from him. He held her to him with as much strength as he could. He loved her so much.
It seemed for eternity that they stood there, in that musty room, his lair as he'd them say. For eternity, or maybe longer, they stood with arms wrapped around each other, pulling and pushing, unmoving. He'd felt he'd been born to embrace her, to inhale her.
She shuddered in his arms and he pulled away, fearful that she was cold.
She smiled at him, her soft lips curving into something beautiful and heart rendering. He lifted his hand to softly hold her face, his thumb brushed against her bottom lip and then, as sudden as lightening flashing across the sky, his lips were grazing hers.
Elena fell into his arms then, surrendered herself to him, like she'd always done. He knew she'd been fighting him for so long, for Stefan, for his little brother.
As he continued to kiss her, and she responded, something miraculous happened—his mind was drifting away from him. All of the voices that whispered in argument faded and disappeared, and all that mattered, no, nothing mattered anymore. Only this warmth in his arms, this light that scattered the darkness—only she mattered.
Elena moaned against his lips and he knew, at once, that she needed to breathe as he did. He could only pull away enough to rest his forehead against hers, let his breath mingle with hers, heated, soft, intoxicating.
Her eyes were closed, her dark lashes fluttering.
He closed his own then.
Tell me, Princess ... Why don't you run away?
Look at me, Damon.
He opened his eyes, staring into hers, wide, dark, dazed, filled with tears. Had he hurt her again? He stepped back, and yet, even with such a sad, distressed, weak look upon her face, she followed him. She followed him until the back of his legs hit the edge of his bed and even then, until he was forced to fall back into darkness.
"Damon, I don't run away because I know you need me."
He couldn't stop the wince—it hadn't been the answer he'd wanted.
She smiled at him and he couldn't help the wave of hatred that swept through him. It wasn't for her. No, he hated the lack of control he had, the disgustingly humanness of himself.
He was surprised when she fell on top of him, her blonde hair brushing against the top of his shirt, making him shiver and his skin break out in tiny goose bumps.
She laid her head there then, her arms pressed between them, her finger gently tracing circles over his chest. He could only relax then.
"I ..." she trailed off, and he could sense her embarrassment.
Tell me, he urged her.
She lifted her head and her eyes met his.
"I love Stefan," she said.
Damon felt himself stiffen beneath her, and he could feel tears sting his eyes. He blinked them away and would have pushed her aside had she not pressed him back down into the bed, straddled him. He looked at her in bewilderment, and it all softened as he saw the deep blush that swept along her skin, her eyes looking everywhere but at his face.
"I love you too," she whispered finally, and he felt his heart soar. He felt as if the earth had stopped spinning, as if the sun had ceased to shine and the moon had disappeared from the sky. They had all ceased to be to exist within her.
If Damon was darkness, Elena was light.
He rolled them over until she was pinned beneath him, and he kissed her. She was passion, she was that final moment before death, that light that lured him into the unknown, if only to know what it contained.
It wasn't long before he knew they were both unaware, they were lost, and heat consumed them.
Damon fought with himself then. He couldn't take it; he couldn't surrender to his human emotions. He twisted his head away.
I want you to have it.
His heart was chaos.
He stared at her, down at her, into her wide, deep eyes, so blue that he could lose himself there. He wondered what she was thinking, but he knew the answer already—nothing, nothing but him.
"Are you sure?"
She smiled at him, tears filling her eyes—or had they already been there?
"I love you, Damon. I'm scared that I have nothing to give you."
"You give me everything in a breath," he told her before leaning down and capturing her lips with his once more.
He would cherish her forever, and for once, he found that if he could have her he wouldn't mind being human.
If only, he thought sadly.
