You Can't Start a Fire Without a Spark
Damon is sure he looks a sight. There's eyeliner smeared around his eyes and black nail polish chipped off his fingernails and he laughs at all of the Goth kids 'cause they are imitating death the wrong way.
He does drugs fast and hard and it's not like he'll die from it anyway.
The music is blaring and he should hate it but blood is pumping through the children's veins and it makes him hungry.
Damon stumbles home. He's not his usual slick and coordinated self because whatever those kids took saturated their blood. It makes Damon giddy.
The apartment is not as big as he and Stefan are used to. Damon is just getting use to it being the two of them again. After a long period of not seeing each other, they reunited because Damon was bored and Stefan was lonely.
Damon walks into Stefan's room and sees Lily, the runaway, lying in Stefan's bed. Stefan took a liking to the sleeping girl when he saw her on the street a few days ago. Lily was so sad and pitiful, and Stefan just had to make her his cause of the month.
Stefan is all too proper with her, of course. He won't lay a finger on her. Damon won't touch her because then Stefan will find a reason to leave, and it'll be another 20 years before Damon would get to see him again.
Damon heads to his room. He sees Stefan lying on the bed, pretending to sleep; shirtless, with the covers tossed off.
Damon wastes no time undressing. He crawls on the bed, only to settle his lithe frame on top of Stefan, lining their bodies up.
He prepares himself for the usual protest from Stefan. It's the same thing all the time:
No, Damon.
Stop, Damon.
Go away, Damon.
Stefan lies too much.
Damon wants to kiss him, and it might happen, but Stefan turns his head at the last minute. Damon's mouth connects with check, the kiss wet and warm.
Stefan likes to make him work for it, now. Damon kisses wildly, his check, his temple, his jaw. Heads so close together that their hair mixes like some sort of mocha coffee blend.
Stefan finally relents. Their lips connect and there is nothing like it in the world. There is nothing like the feel of Stefan's tongue against his. There is nothing like that hot mouth.
After all this time, Stefan must still think this is sinful; it's evil to do these things with your brother. Damon tried to explain, he's tried to tell Stefan that they don't have to follow society's rules.
Damon pulls Stefan's pajama bottoms down, commences a dirty grind. Stefan's cock rubs so nicely against his own. The friction is so good, so sweet.
Damon reaches down and takes both of their cocks in hand. He pulls and rubs and squeezes.
Stefan tries not to make much noise, like it might kill him if he says anything, but he can't stop his hips from bucking up against the hand and his brother's cock. Stefan thinks that he's never been this hard in his life.
Damon is in a similar state, all the blood rushing through his body, and his brother making these wounded noises. It drives him crazy, Stefan being so controlled all the time. So he kisses Stefan harder and he swallows Stefan's little moans.
Damon strokes harder, stops kissing Stefan's mouth to scrape his teeth along the vein pounding in Stefan's neck.
Damon feels the tell-tale throbbing in their cocks and slants his mouth on Stefan's yet again. When they come at the same time, it's a surprise, the wetness spurting against Damon's hand and their stiff flesh.
Damon rolls away a few minutes later. Damon figures he should get this heavy feeling off his chest now. In the cold light of day, he can pretend he never said such a thing. And Stefan will let it go because he's Stefan.
"What happened to you?" Damon asks aloud.
"You have no idea, do you? How this is bigger than both of us. When we were young, looking at you used to do me in. It was the look on your face when you used to tell me that you loved me. It was the look on your face when you realized I believed it."