Confused images and quick flashes. A thin blindfold, red and silk. Swaying hips. A bare chest. Heart-shaped lips. Red wine. Red wine on a bare chest. A delicate tongue. A delicate tongue skating over a bare chest, lapping up red wine, inspiring low moans. Clenched bedsheets. Clenched hands. Stefan's hands. Stefan's chest. Stefan's mingled frustration and excitement at being blindfolded and bound. His aching desperation to break free of his restraints. His hunger to bury himself in her, to ravage her.

"Patience," said a voice, teasing and amused. "Control your urges…"

Stefan sighed. "Rosetta," he groaned.

"Shh." She traced his lips with her fingertip, accelerating his heartrate. "Patience."

"Rosetta…"

Abruptly, Stefan's eyes snapped open and he sat upright in bed, panting. He was slicked in sweat and frenzied, wired like a current surged throughout his body. He'd been dreaming. About the past. About her. That could only mean …

No. He didn't want this. Not anymore and not for a long time. His skin hummed with the intensity of the dream and Stefan threw off his covers, sliding out of bed. He was topless, wearing only sweatpants, but he didn't feel the need to shrug on a shirt — his body had to cool. He went downstairs into the kitchen for a glass of water.

Rosetta. He hadn't thought about her in six years, maybe longer. She'd been before even Katherine, a remnant of another life, one that no longer existed. When he'd met Elena, everything about her — her voice, her laugh, her touch — had rendered every woman in his past irrelevant, turned them into shadows of a memory.

"And yet you still dream about me."

Stefan didn't turn around to face the woman this voice belonged to. He didn't even wonder how she knew what he was thinking. He'd known she was close by; it was the only explanation for his dreams. He took a sip from his glass before speaking.

"How long have you been here?"

"In your house or in Mystic Falls?"

"Both."

"Only a few minutes to the first. A week to the second. I'm surprised you didn't start having the dreams the minute I came into town."

"Maybe the spell isn't as strong as you thought it was," said Stefan. He muttered to himself. "It was a stupid spell anyway."

"You're the one who wanted me to cast it."

"Well, I was just a dumb kid at the time, wasn't I?" Stefan sighed. He turned around and came face to face with the woman, his expression one of cold appraisal. The woman was pretty. Tall. Brunette with a hint of red in her hair. Sinuous body. There was a poised arrogance to her demeanour and Stefan hated the way she looked at him, like she knew him, like she could undo him.

"Rosetta," he said.

"Stefan. It's been a while."

"Practically a lifetime."

"Just about. The last time I saw you, this place was newly built," said Rosetta. She started walking toward Stefan but then stopped at the breakfast bar, running her fingers along the marble edge, her eyes on the smooth surface. "Remember how we christened this kitchen?" She looked at Stefan now, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "You took me right here on this counter and wouldn't stop until I screamed your name. I remember thinking how good you'd gotten when —"

"That was a long time ago," said Stefan sharply. "What are you doing here?"

"Just passing through," said Rosetta simply, hopping up and sitting on the breakfast bar, crossing her long legs. "Thought I'd stop by, check in on you."

"Well you have."

Rosetta raised her eyebrows. "If I didn't know any better, Stefan, I'd say you weren't too happy to see me."

"I just want you to know that nothing is going to happen here."

"Why, because of Elena?"

Stefan glared at Rosetta and she laughed. "I wasn't stalking you if that's what you're thinking. I haven't even seen her, didn't have to. Your love for this girl is like a beacon." Her voice remained amused but Stefan could hear a hint of disgust infect her tone as she continued speaking. "She's taken you over, taken your heart over, I can see it. You're full of love for her, it's everywhere on you."

"Rosetta —"

"Relax. I'm not going to try and take you from her. I'm not the relationship type, Stefan, you know that. I just missed you is all. You can't tell me that you didn't miss it too. Our nights together. The feel of us together."

"Well I didn't and I don't," said Stefan. "I stopped thinking about those nights years ago."

"Years ago. Six years ago, right? When you met her," said Rosetta. "Well, you forgot me when you met Katherine too. Until you didn't."

"It's not like that this time," said Stefan. "You never told me that a love for Katherine had taken me over; you never sensed that about her or about me and her. That should tell you something."

Rosetta's lips curved upward into a canary smile as she slipped off the breakfast bar and made her way toward Stefan. She stood close to his body, her eyes passing over his torso and Stefan didn't move as she leaned forward like she was about to kiss him. He glowered at her, his jaw clenched in restrained fury, and she pulled back but only an inch so that their lips were almost touching.

"At least Katherine knew her way around a man but this girl …"

"She isn't a girl."

"She can't possibly be enough for you. Your hunger for blood isn't the only appetite that's insatiable, Stefan. That was true even before you became a vampire."

Stefan took Rosetta by the arms and shoved her roughly away from him. "You know nothing about me."

"I know that more times than not you like it rough," said Rosetta. "I bet she doesn't know that."

Before Stefan could respond, there was the sound of a door creaking open and then there was a shout. "Stefan?"

Elena.

"Well this should be interesting," said Rosetta as she walked past Stefan and out of the kitchen. Stefan used his speed to get to the living room first. Elena was at the stairs behind the couch, looking in the opposite direction. The minute she heard the familiar whisper of speed against air, she turned around. She smiled the moment her eyes made contact with Stefan's; it couldn't be helped.

"Hey, I was —" the smile faltered.

Rosetta walked languidly into the living room and stood next to Stefan, looking at Elena with delighted curiosity. Elena looked from Rosetta to Stefan and he could tell she was taking note of his naked torso. He knew he had a lot to explain in a short amount of time before the situation could get any worse but he didn't know where to begin. There was a beat in which no one said anything and then to Stefan's dismay, Rosetta broke the stillness of the room by striding over to Elena.

"You must be Elena," she said, shaking her hand. "Stefan has told me a lot about you."

Elena smiled awkwardly. "I wish I could say the same," she said.

"Oh me and Stefan are old friends." The corner of Elena's eyes narrowed at the way Rosetta said 'friends' but she simply nodded her head and said, "Oh. Great."

"Yeah, we go way back," she continued. "You could even say that I was Stefan's first … friend."

"Rosetta." Stefan's voice was a warning.

"Wait, that far back?" said Elena, furrowing her eyebrows. "But you're not a vampire."

"Oh God no. No, no, I would never turn myself into something so primitive."

"So then how did you …"

"I'll let Stefan fill in the details," said Rosetta. "I don't feel like staying here any longer anyway." She began to walk toward the foyer but then stopped before opening the front door. "Oh and Stefan, I expect we'll be seeing each other soon. Probably not so early in the day, though." And then she left.

For a while there was only quiet. Stefan shifted his weight, looking at Elena, searching for the right words. Elena licked her lips and then pressed them together, trying her best to keep calm. "So who was that?"

"Someone from my past."

"Yeah, I got that," said Elena, irritated. "You know, every time a woman comes back from your past she tries to kill me, Stefan. You have to realize that."

Stefan's eyes flashed and Elena caught a glimpse of that danger in him that was so rarely seen and yet so easily accessible, of the violence that burned just beneath the surface ready to combust with the right trigger. He rushed forward so that he seemed to zip from the living room up to where she was on the stairs. He stroked the side of her face, staring at her fixedly. "I would never let that happen," he said.

She gazed silently back at him, her eyes recognizing the earnestness in his and then she softened, leaning her cheek further into his palm. "I know," she said. "I know. I just mean … she's really interested in you."

"I've known Rosetta a long time. Believe me she doesn't want to be with me. She doesn't do relationships."

"How long have you known her? You never mentioned her."

"She isn't really someone you mention, I mean…" Stefan sighed and removed his hand from the side of Elena's face, running it through his hair. "I met her when I was sixteen, still a human."

"That's a year before you met Katherine."

"Yes it is."

Elena blinked a couple of times. "So she's an ex-girlfriend."

"Not quite. I told you, she doesn't do relationships. She's…" Stefan closed his eyes and lowered his head. "Rosetta was the first woman I'd ever been with."

Elena raised her eyebrows. "Oh," she said. "Oh, I just, I always assumed that Katherine —"

"No." Stefan shook his head. "Before Katherine there was Rosetta and she … well, she wasn't from here; her people were nomadic. They were just stopping in Mystic Falls for a few weeks before moving on. I came across their camp when I was writing in the woods. She was singing and dancing with the children and the men and just … she looked so free, like she didn't care about rules or tradition. It mesmerized me. I saw her around town after that, saw that same disregard for societal standards and I just became fascinated with her, with her audacity. I lurked around her camp every day until she finally let me know that she'd been—"

"Noticing you notice her," said Elena.

Stefan grinned sheepishly. "Yeah, pretty much. Anyway, she took me to bed that same night. And every night for the weeks she and her people were staying here. She was patient with me at first. Then she tested me, my limits. Then she challenged me, played my passions; showed me how to play hers, test her limits, got me to understand the importance of being … generous …"

Elena furrowed her eyebrows and looked at him. "Are you saying she taught you how to have sex?"

"I'm saying she was experienced," said Stefan.

Elena pushed out her mouth like she was considering something then she spoke again. "But this all happened in 1845, right? So why isn't she — I mean shouldn't she be — how is she still alive? She's not a vampire. I could tell from the minute I saw her."

Stefan closed his eyes, his face contorted into an expression of discomfort and vague anguish and when he opened his eyes again, Elena recognized the look he gave her, the look like he didn't want to hurt her even though he was about to. She'd seen it so often when he'd turned his humanity back on after his time with Klaus.

"At the time," he said. "With Rosetta, it was like I was drunk off our nights together, drunk off her, infatuated. I asked her to stay when she told me that her people were ready to move on from Mystic Falls but Rosetta, she doesn't like being tied down. Not to one town or even one country; not to one man or one woman, not to anything. And when she made that clear, I asked her that if she ever came back, to come look for me and so …" Stefan cleared his throat. "And so she made it so that whenever she was around me, I would have dreams, memories, about our nights together that were so intense it'd be like I was reliving them so it'd be like I'd have to go find her."

Elena looked at him. "She 'made it so'? You mean—"

"She cast a spell."

"Rosetta's a witch?"

"A very powerful witch, that's why the spell still held even though I technically died."

"What else can she do?"

"She can read people, sometimes it's a person's thoughts, other times it's their emotions, their aura. She knew before even meeting you that you and I are together for instance. And she can drastically slow down the aging process, it's almost like she's immortal, that's why she's still alive and looks the way she does."

"So when you said her 'people' you really meant her coven."

Stefan didn't say anything and Elena nodded her head. "Right," she said. "Right, so in 1845 before ever meeting Katherine, you fell in love with—"

"It wasn't love," said Stefan quietly. "It was sex."

"Doesn't sound like it. You asked her to cast a spell on you so you can relive your nights with her whenever she's around you."

"I was young and stupid when I agreed to that," said Stefan. "Maybe at the time I thought I was in love with her, I wasn't exactly thinking with my head, sex and love are often confused with each other, and the sex with Rosetta was —"

Elena looked at Stefan, raising her eyebrows. "It was what?"

Stefan pressed his lips together. "It was intense. And it was my first sexual experience. And I was sixteen. I just knew that I wanted to feel that again and at the time, I thought only she could make that happen for me. It was short-sighted and naïve."

"But you still dream about it, about her."

"Elena, no," said Stefan resolutely. "I haven't had a dream about Rosetta or even thought about her since I came back to Mystic Falls seven years ago. The last time I saw her before today was in 1914 when this house was just built."

"And you slept with her then?"

Stefan hesitated. "Yes."

Elena sighed. "I wish you'd told me about her."

"I know and I'm sorry. Believe me, I didn't think she'd ever show up back here."

"And I just can't understand that. You two have a long-standing relationship, Stefan."

"I didn't think about it because I didn't think about her. How could I?" Stefan looked at Elena now and reached up to touch her face again, his thumb stroking her cheek. His eyes slowly passed over her as if he were drinking in every detail of her face, as if he was marvelling at the very fact that she there at all, standing in front of him, as if it were a miracle that she even existed. "Elena, how could I possibly think about any other woman?"

Elena's lips parted. Those words hit her in her gut and she felt herself unfolding. She put her hands on either side of his face and brought his lips to hers. He responded by putting his hands on her hips. "I love you," she said as they hugged.

"Me too," said Stefan, holding her to him. "I love you too."

It had been two hours since Elena left Stefan's side and from the moment she left the Salvatore Mansion she couldn't get Rosetta out of her head. Not the memory of her smug grin as she sauntered into the living room and not the image of her on top of Stefan, straddling him, teaching him, making him moan for her … it made Elena want to break things and it also made her want to kick herself for reacting this way. She'd barely met the woman, they weren't in the same room for five minutes even yet she had Elena feeling … insecure. Despite the fact that there was nothing to be insecure about. Honestly. There was nothing that gave cause to worry.

She and Stefan had great sex. Phenomenal sex. She had missed many a class in both high school and now, in college, because they'd kept one another awake all night and didn't have the will to pull away from each other when morning came. Their desire for each other heated her skin. Literally. It was always there beneath each kiss, each hug, each gaze. Whenever they were near one another, Elena could feel Stefan's yearning, the wild passion he barely contained when around her, and her gut ached for just a taste of that wildness; and she … well, Stefan invoked in her such ripe longing and she was always ready, eager, to express that to him. Their combined need for each other was a constant smoulder within her body and it charged every one of her and Stefan's actions and interactions, causing a gaze to turn into a hug, a hug into a kiss, a kiss into breathlessness…

Just thinking about it made Elena's body tingle all over; sparked an ache between her thighs.

Sex was definitely not an issue.

It never had been. Neither had exes. In fact, Elena hadn't really thought about the amount of women Stefan had been with in the hundred and fifty years he'd been alive; never thought about how he'd gotten to be so good, like damned good in bed. She hadn't thought about it even when she'd been brutally confronted with Stefan's past. On the separate occasions Katherine and Rebekah had shown up in Mystic Falls, they each relished pointing out to Elena that they'd had Stefan first; that he'd wanted them dangerously, treacherously, almost awfully. Elena remembered how a bitter taste had plagued her throat whenever she'd thought of him with each woman. And when she'd thought he'd slept with Tessa she'd been beyond agitated, she'd been inconsolable — her jealousy had driven her to storm into Tessa's cabin to confront him despite the fact that she'd been with Damon. And yet even with all of that, Elena had never questioned Stefan's thirst for her; never questioned how much he wanted her, wanted them. But there was something about Rosetta that made her feel like she hadn't experienced the full extent of Stefan's hunger or even his passion. Like she didn't bring that out in him. Like he could never be drunk off their nights together, drunk off her. She knew he loved her; knew it in her heart, in her bones, in her mind and it was a love that thrilled and anchored at the same time, a love that grounded and yet could turn reckless at any given moment, much like Stefan. There was nothing more to want and she wanted nothing more and Elena realized she wasn't worried about the extent of her want for Stefan, her want of the relationship as a whole; she was worried about Stefan's.

Soft lighting. The sheer material of tents. The sound of crickets. Night sky. Stars. Elena looked around. All she saw was rows upon rows of tents. Where was she? In a dream, that was obvious, but why this dream? It didn't feel like her dream. It felt like …

Scenery change.

Same place but within a tent now. There was a fire. There were furs everywhere. Panting. Whispering. Moaning. Elena turned her head toward the centre of the tent and her stomach dropped, heart skipped a beat.

Stefan and Rosetta entwined.

She was in his dream, in his memory. She felt sick. And angry. Furious. Her stomach was sour. She didn't want to see this.

Stefan's back writhed between Rosetta's legs, her head was thrown back, a reckless smile on her face and she laughed and moaned at the same time.

"You're amazing," she panted. "When did you get so amazing?"

Stefan raised his head to look at Rosetta and grinned. "Had a good teacher." He nuzzled her neck again and continued to writhe.

"I didn't teach you this. Like holy …"

No. Stop. Elena turned away from them. She didn't want to see this. She couldn't see this. Couldn't hear how Stefan grunted and groaned, infatuated, enamoured, drunk.

A shift.

Something was suddenly different. She felt like she was being stretched. Like the tent and the sky, like the dream itselfwas being stretched. A blur of shape and colour. The scenery was moving, changing. Elena felt like she was changing, how she felt was changing.

She was in her old room now. In her old house before it burned down. On her bed. Next to Stefan. She wasn't in a corner watching this time like she had been in the other dream, she was on the bed, next to Stefan, in the perspective of her dream self. But this still wasn't her dream.

"Feels like a lifetime," she said and she leaned toward Stefan, kissing him. It was quick. Chaste. And her lips burned to be against his again. She remembered this.

Stefan brushed her hair, caressing her face as he did so, staring at her warmly, intently. "I missed you too," he whispered.

Elena kissed him again, taking her time, savouring the taste of him, glad and relieved to have him next to her after being away for what felt like so long. This wasn't a dream, it was a memory, this was when he'd been struggling with his bloodlust, this was the only time he'd been close to truly letting himself go, to giving into the extent of his passion.

Elena was on her back, Stefan lying on top of her, kissing her like he wanted to do more than overtake her but be a part of her. She twisted so that she was above Stefan now and he was on his back, her lips on the side of his face.

There was a voice. An external voice.

"That's not how he likes it."

Rosetta.

Shut up. Elena continued to kiss his neck, his growl in her ears.

"Tell her, Stefan. This is child's play."

Shut. Up.

"I'll show you how it's done."

SHUT UP.

Elena yelled, "Shut up!" in her sleep and her eyes snapped open.

In the Salvatore Mansion, Stefan woke up.

"You're fighting my spell," said Rosetta.

Stefan sat up quickly and saw Rosetta sitting cross-legged at the foot of his bed, surveying him with what looked like impatience and interest. "She was there too," said Rosetta.

"We connect sometimes," said Stefan.

"Too bad for her," said Rosetta. "Although she saw when you push past my magic so really—"

"I wish she hadn't seen any of it," said Stefan waspishly. "Break the spell, Rosetta."

"But it's such a fun spell," she said, grinning.

"Not anymore. We've been done for a while now."

"Ties like ours are never really done, Stefan," said Rosetta.

"I've outgrown you. I haven't wanted you for a long time."

"You just need a reminder."

"She's the only woman I want, Rosetta," said Stefan resolutely. "She's the only woman I've ever truly wanted."

"You know, she could join us," said Rosetta, raising an eyebrow. "She could learn a thing or two."

Stefan sped toward her, grabbed her by the throat and slammed her roughly onto the ground so that she cried out in pain, he hovered above her.

"Do not talk about her like that, I warned you once," said Stefan. "I want you gone.

There was a creak. Stefan raised his head to see Elena standing in his bedroom doorway, staring in transfixed horror at the image of Rosetta pinned beneath him.

"Elena —"

She was gone in a swish.

"No, Elena!"

Stefan followed her, speeding out of the house and into the woods, calling her name. He found her in a clearing surrounded by trees.

"Elena…"

She turned to him, her face expressionless. He didn't know how long they gazed at each other before he spoke.

"Nothing happened," he said. "Nothing was about to happen. Nothing was ever going to happen."

"I know that," said Elena.

And she did. Even with all the anger and jealousy and possessiveness the sight of Rosetta pinned beneath Stefan unleashed in her, Elena knew that nothing happened because she knew Stefan, knew his love, his devotion. His faithfulness was simply a fact, one she took solace in. Elena didn't say anything for a while, trying to gather the right words, trying to understand what exactly it was about Rosetta that spiked in her this specific insecurity.

"I don't doubt our relationship, Stefan. I don't doubt that you love me. I don't doubt that you want me. Just like I know you don't doubt how much I love and want you. But…" Elena shook her head, moving her hair away from her face. "I can't get it out of my head, you and her. You being … drunk off her. You being with her being what makes you good at being with me and —"

"Elena, stop," said Stefan.

Elena didn't finish her sentence. Stefan stared at her from across the woods, his jaw clenched, his eyes dark and fixed. Elena could feel it all over her body — the heat. It crept up her neck and flushed her cheeks and her heart started to race. The air between them was charged, thick with the feeling that something was about to happen. Right there. It would've seemed sudden if that heat wasn't always there, beneath their conversations, beneath their arguments, beneath the very words they said to each other.

Stefan walked toward Elena in measured steps and when he was inches from her, he circled his hands around her waist, softly clenching her dress, his fingers massaging her skin through the material. He looked down at her. "I'm not good at being with you because I was with her." Slowly, almost languidly, Stefan slid one of his hands from Elena's waist down to the hem of her dress, his fingers lightly caressing the top of her thighs, making her put her hands on his shoulders and squeeze. Her heart pounded even faster. Stefan grazed his lips against her ear and Elena sighed heavily.

"I'm good at being with you because I know you. I know what you like." He gently tugged her earlobe with his teeth and Elena closed her eyes, suppressing a moan, her nails digging deeply into his shoulder blades. Stefan trailed his fingers leisurely between Elena's legs, stroking her thigh up and down and back again, brushing her underwear but making no move to go past them. Elena's panting grew louder. He was barely touching her and yet she felt his touch everywhere; shivers erupted all over body, making her quake. Her knees almost buckled. The heat on her skin spawned an ache deep in her belly, a burning, riotous ache that blinded Elena with a desire too savage and too pressing to be just lust. She wanted this. God, she wanted this.

"Don't you think so, Elena?" Stefan whispered. He ran his fingers up to her underwear again and pressed against it, making brief contact with her ache and Elena couldn't help the sharp intake of breath she made. She clenched Stefan's back, biting down on his shoulder, the material of his sweater hooking into her teeth, and she felt a trill of satisfaction at hearing the hoarseness in his voice when he whispered again.

"Don't you think I know you? No one has touched you like this. Not Matt, not Damon…" And Stefan slipped his finger into her, shredding her underwear, stroking in unhurried circles, easing his finger in and out with agonizing slowness. Quickly, Elena held onto Stefan so she wouldn't drop to the ground and she moaned his name, her voice wet and breathy in his ear; he hardened against her.

"Anticipation…" Stefan grazed his lips along the side of Elena's face. "Delayed gratification …" Elena bit down on her bottom lip. "Matt, definitely Damon, they didn't get that, did they? They didn't get that you like to be teased."

Elena didn't answer right away; the flex of his finger was all she could concentrate on and the slowness of his movements crazed Elena beyond frustration. In … Out … In … Out … … Her eyes fluttered shut. Her chest heaved with shallow breathing. She needed him to go faster. She needed him to go harder. She needed him.

"Elena…"

The way he whispered her name, it was a caress on her skin and Elena groaned low in her throat. "No," she murmured. "No they didn't."

With his other hand, Stefan brought Elena's face to his, his expression a combination of longing and smugness and he watched as her eyes closed and her forehead creased when he eased in a second finger, keeping his tortuously languid pace. Elena mewled loudly; it was a visceral sound heavy with salacious want and it invoked in Stefan the need to make her make the noise again; a need to drive her wild, to drive her to recklessness, to drive her to call out for release, for him.

Abruptly, Elena reached down to grab his hand so she could guide it and increase the pressure of his fingers but before she could even touch him, Stefan caught her by the wrist and moved quickly, using his speed so that Elena's back crashed hard against a tree, the trunk cracking. He pinned her wrist above her head, keeping her in place and he hadn't moved his fingers within her; they continued to tease her, to inflame Elena with a yearning that choked her throat and burned her skin; that clouded her vision and splintered her thoughts. She felt like she needed to get out of her skin, out of her own body, that the pleasure of it all would tear her apart if she didn't.

"Stefan…"

He swallowed hard as she said his name, a desperate plea; his eyes were dark and aroused but he didn't take pity on her, he didn't increase the pressure. Elena couldn't take it anymore.

She thrust her head forward, smashing her lips against Stefan's, kissing him with a ferocity incited by both a violent need and profound lust for him. Their teeth clashed momentarily. Her mouth opened his with urgency and desperation, with greed, with hunger. She bit down and sucked on his lower lip and she trailed her free hand roughly through his hair, clutching strands in between her fingers. Stefan pushed himself deeper into the kiss with a savagery of his own, his tongue mirroring the now-quick motions of his fingers, making Elena moan into his mouth. She could feel a build deep in her gut and the more intense it grew, the more fervently she kissed him, urging him on, frantic for the release he'd been denying her. Stefan's fingers circled faster, harder and Elena squealed, the delicious ache between her thighs almost giving way; she squeezed her eyes shut, she was going to —

Stefan withdrew his fingers and Elena's entire body screamed. She was coming apart at the seams; her nerves were raw and sensitized and she felt a beast arise within her, a beast that hadn't been awoken since the afternoon Stefan taught her how to hunt when she'd first became a vampire. But Elena couldn't demand he continue; she couldn't speak, she couldn't even think, she could only gasp as Stefan brought his lips to her neck, grazing his teeth along her jaw, running the tip of his tongue down her throat to her chest, kissing her cleavage with a gluttonous reverence that left her breathless and begging and wanting for more. He unpinned her wrist so he could slip both his hands beneath her dress, pushing the material up, squeezing the dips of her curves, stroking the arch of her stomach, kneading the shallows of her skin and Elena clasped her hands around his neck, crushing him to her.

There was a frenzy to Stefan's motions unique to his hands. When she and Damon had had sex, everything was frantic, a blur — they crashed into each other like the world was about to end; Damon ravaged her like he would never get a chance to do it again. But Stefan … Stefan made love to her like even if the world was about to end, it didn't matter; it didn't matter if they were running out of time because nothing was going to keep him from relishing her, from feeling her, really feeling her; he would contain his own beast just enough so that he could savour her, know her and not drown in her. The distinction aroused Elena in a way that was almost primal, vampiric; it excited the beast within her and she was overcome with the need to feel his skin beneath her hands, his body against hers. Rapidly and with fumbling hands, she pulled off his sweater and tore off his undershirt so that his torso was naked. She leaned forward and kissed his chest, his neck, his shoulders — everywhere she could. Her hands clawed at his back, her palms feeling the power of his muscles, the rigid marble of his skin as he pressed himself against her and kissed her neck and shoulders with equal fervour. Elena started to unbuckle his belt but Stefan took her by the wrist for a second time. Rather than pinning it above her head, he guided her hand into his jeans, past his boxers, so that her fingers wrapped around his manhood — she sighed as he groaned and she marvelled at how hard he was; at how he was throbbingwith such readiness, such lustful need. He pressed against her hand and she squeezed, eliciting a sound somewhere between a moan and a sob; she started to massage and rub, his harsh breathing encouraging her to keep flexing her hand.

"How could I?" he whispered in her ear between his panting. "How could I think about anyone else?"

Out of instinct more than anything else, Elena abruptly put her hands on Stefan's chest and pushed with the strength vampirism imbued in her so that he crashed onto the ground, her sitting astride him. The collision of their bodies shook the woods so that the tree they were just against, the tree they had already cracked, splintered in half and clanged to the ground, releasing dozens of shocked and angry birds into the sky.

They were both too busy to pay attention.

Elena clasped Stefan's throat, tilting his head up toward her. She trailed her fingertip along his lips and Stefan enclosed her finger in his mouth, sucking hard, piercing his eyes into hers, gauging every reaction that passed over her face. Elena's own lips parted, her chest heaved, and she could feel the rawness of Stefan's stare engulf her; she could feel her inner beast begin to externalize, thickening the veins beneath her eyes to a dark blue, causing her fangs to descend. Stefan's eyes reddened as he watched Elena's transformation; his gums itched, ready for his fangs to descend as well, and his blood screamed — every atom in his body seemed to scream — for Elena, for the allowance to bury himself in her. In one swift motion, he sat upright and lowered his head to kiss her breasts, twirling his tongue around her nipples, gently tugging down on them with his teeth as his hands grasped her hips and pushed her into him. Elena put her hands on his arms and she felt the frenzy roil beneath his skin, felt how he was coming undone much like he did on the night of the memory she'd just relived.

Rapidly, Stefan pushed forward so that Elena was on the ground and the moment she was lying down he tore her dress open from the middle. She gasped, arching her back as he skimmed his parted lips along her stomach, nipping and sucking his way down toward her thighs. Without taking his eyes off her, Stefan took the waistband of what was left of Elena's underwear between his teeth and tugged it off her hips, sliding it down her thighs, her calves, his eyes growing a steadily darker red, dark blue veins colouring hiss skin. Elena threw her head back onto the ground unable to watch him anymore; it was too much, too erotic. She curled her toes and dragged her nails in the dirt. The ache between her thighs had intensified into a torturous void that roared in desperation and need of Stefan and it made her want to writhe and squirm. Elena felt the underwear slide off completely and she raised her head again, her raw gaze meeting Stefan's, both of them breathing heavily with the knowledge that neither of them could take anymore, that they were both beyond yearning to mesh with each other.

Elena grabbed Stefan by either side of his face and pulled him to her, kissing him as she turned so that she was straddling him yet again. Stefan moved to sit up, his back raised off the ground but Elena put her hands on his chest and swiftly pushed him back down, stiffening her thighs, making Stefan cry out, a strangled sound. Elena undid Stefan's fly completely and shifted her position; both of their mouths hung open as she eased onto him. She started to sway and Stefan immediately clasped her hips as she tilted upward, pushing himself deeper into her, a loud groan escaping his lips. Elena gyrated harder, basking in the fullness of him inside her, relishing the feel of him coming undone beneath her, of the way she knew she was agitating the beast within him, the way he wanted her so much he was fighting to keep control of himself.

Stefan reached up and rubbed his hands on her chest, palming and needing her breasts; he sat up to bury his face once more in her cleavage, kissing and sucking and nipping so that Elena moaned. She could feel herself build, the sensation profoundly more intense than what had tortured her before and in this moment she knew what she wanted.

"Drink me," she whispered.

Her muscles tightened around Stefan and he swore loudly, lying back down. "What?"

"Drink me," she repeated. He hadn't tasted her blood since she became a vampire and she wanted to share that with him again, to be fully intimate again. She bent down and kissed him ravenously, riding him faster, clenching around him harder, rising higher. She wrenched away and then stretched her neck over his lips.

"I want this," she gasped. "Stefan, drink me."

And he lurched forward sinking his fangs into her neck. Her own fangs descended once more and she let out a high-pitched mewl as she felt Stefan shudder in arousal beneath her. The pleasure was almost devastating, a force that could and maybe would rip her apart, that made every nerve in her body sing with stimulation. But it was more than that. Elena felt Stefan everywhere, she felt herself everywhere in Stefan; she was feeling them, feeling them in her desire, in her body, in her mind, in her soul … the true definition of intimacy. Without warning, Stefan turned over so that Elena was beneath him, his fangs still punctured in her neck, their bodies still entwined. He drank, his tongue lapping up her blood and Elena felt her muscles quiver and quake around him, his erection deep within her. She felt her belly churn, her gut roil, her body rise, her ache, his wildness, grow, her skin burn…all of the sensations sensitized her nerves so that she was ready to combust and then finally, spectacularly, she cried out, her whimper melding in with Stefan's as he thrust one last time and withdrew his fangs from her neck. They remained entwined, staring at each other, satiation and gratitude and devotion in their eyes.

"Anymore doubts?" Stefan asked finally.

Elena smiled. "I never doubted you," she said.