She was beautiful.
But she was also a whore.
She was witty and talented and seductive.
She was also an alcoholic who fell too hard and too fast. To whatever she did.
She was blinding in beauty, breathtaking in manner and divine in form.
But she was also the sister to a murderer and a sadistic killer herself.
But did that stop Damon Salvatore from moaning out her name as she rode him with the sheer force that only another vampire could have withstood? No.
Despite her twisted nature and her own spoiled sense of self, Rebekah Mikaelson had a certain charm about her which made the men flock to her. It was in this particular moment of insatiable passion that the elder Salvatore could see what it was about this demonic little Original that drove his brother to his knees ninety years prior. He could see why the noble Stefan Salvatore had fallen head over heels in love with her (even if he himself was condoned of uninterrupted terrorization to the human public); there was just that instant something about her which caused men to come closer, to try and seek a little more of what she possessed.
Snaking his arm around her, he swung her around with such force the room rang with a sudden thud of the bed. She was now below him, those green eyes of hers piercing through his very core. Those full lips of hers, swollen now and red from kissing (amongst other activities); Damon Salvatore's hands rung themselves masterfully through those golden locks, pure and shining, as his other hand ravaged the exposed breast. The hilting in her breathing, the soft moan escaping her lips matched the inky Parisian nightlife. The apartment they had was the pinnacle of Paris itself; connected to her inner heart and the glow of the Eiffel tower was evident through the glass window. The scents of espressos brewed in the little cafes wafered into their open windows, the cool night air often tickling the lingering sweat of their bodies, the clamor of those below were often drowned out with their own passionate cries, ones that drifted out and were carried away by the breeze.
How strange it was! How bizarre! How futile it was to try and reason out why the baby sister of the Original family had chosen to escape with a man who's own heart was hung up with a manipulative girl? All that anyone knew was the lovely young couple who rented out Monsieur LeBlanc's upper apartment, how devoted in love they were with one another. All that they themselves knew was the pounding and gyrating of their hips, of hot sticky fingers, of unrestrained passion that drifted from their Parisian villa.
Only when they had both reached their peaks, when he was so gentle and tender with her she could almost feel as if he loved her, and bringing her to his arms (ever so sweetly) that she allowed herself to think as such. Wrapped in a cocoon of rich cotton, the sounds of his breathing grazing her rosy cheek, she could imagine spending an eternity with him. How angry Niklaus had been when he learnt of his sister's escape - and how furiously he had hunted them down. The chase only brought in another hot swell of ardor; of escaping from town to town, trotting the globe with each other, making love whenever they could - it was a sweet release of freedom that Rebekah had never before felt. Of bringing nothing with them - compelling where ever they went - allowing herself to be who she was without judgement, it was this reason she decided to stick with Damon Salvatore a little while longer than planned. Just long enough to escape the wrath of Niklaus.
But when the chase ended, and it was here Rebekah closed her eyes, when the chase ended Rebekah had expected a formal apology from the dark seductor (or, in the very least, a cocky grin and backhanded compliment about her own bedroom skills). How when he said his wish for a little freedom from the wretched doppelgänger had exceeded his own expectations and now he was ready to return to the dreary little town of Mystic Falls, she would feel nothing. They would part ways rejuvenated and leave the latter part of their curious relationship away, buried within their minds for eternity. But whether it was fear of loneliness reoccurring, or the sight of seeing Niklaus Mikaelson and Caroline Forbes together in Paris, the hybrid and baby vampire in love and touring the world as if they possessed every inch of it, Rebekah will never know. She only knew of Damon's sly grin, of his "c'mon Blondie; let's go get a drink" and then later, later that night, she knew only of his breathing against her bare shoulder. Of his dark locks brushing her cheek, and of their bodies - warm from their intercourse, pressed up against each other, safe from the world.
It was when the soft light of dawn broke through their crystal glass paned windows that Damon Salvatore allowed himself to think. He couldn't formulate a single thought in the dead of night, not with Rebekah's body pressed close to his and her heady scent driving him wild - not when the only thoughts that floated about his head were "I cannot ever leave her". No, it was when the soft horizon line of pale gold and soft rose appeared that Damon Salvatore thought of the deeds he had done by the side of the Original blonde.
He never expected to feel as joyous or as free when he was with her - it'd started out as a simple, reckless decision on both their parts. She was furious with Klaus for abandoning her, and he was in mourning for Elena's decision (one he knew she would change, but the wound that had been opened and re-closed so many times had finally refused to heal) had torn him apart. How could he resist the offer of traveling the world with a seductive blonde companion? After all, their relationship had been one that was purely physical at first - she needed release and he wanted to forget. So how did it, Damon pondered as he looked at the beauty beside him, how did it all turn out so wrong? How did he develop these feelings for her-these wretched emotions which threatened to wreak havoc on all that he believed in?
He supposed it was the day when they saw Klaus as they were making their way back to the American boarder, where she would then bid him goodbye and be on her way and he would make amends with his brother back in Mystic Falls. But Niklaus Mikaelson always had a way of changing one's decision - even if he was unaware of it. Damon had spied Vampire Barbie cuddled in close with the demonic Original hybrid; their bodies pressed together in a way that only two lovers can intertwine; from three hundred feet away he could still feel the pure devotion, the complete and whole love radiating from the both of them. The sheer affection and purity of the love he felt shook him to his core - did he know of the feelings the hybrid harbored towards the ebullient baby vampire? Of course, he wasn't blind! And had he realized that the baby vamp's so called 'distraction' attempts had hit closer and closer to home each and every time? But of course! Caroline Forbes wasn't a good actress - of that he was sure. But now, now watching the two laugh together, of the happiness and contentment radiating from their features, Damon suddenly felt compelled - compelled and unable to leave the side of his very own blonde vamp - even if this one was a thousand years old and deadly if crossed.
So what was he supposed to do - do with all those conflicting and erupting emotions within his heart? Turn to Rebekah and tell her how he didn't want to leave her? Take Rebekah into his arms and whisper the affection he harbored for her? Simply kiss her? Kiss those full, soft lips which had been the greatest torment - and greatest pleasure - that had ever graced his own?
Damon Salvatore had a way of putting things in a light where only those who knew him best could truly understand.
"Hey Blondie, instead of watching your brother swap spit with Vampire Barbie, how about we have a little fun of our own?"
She rolled her eyes. "Like I'm ever going anywhere with you again - especially in London. This place is practically known for slaughtering innocents."
Damon raised an eyebrow. "Then it's a good thing we're the slaughterers."
They wound up killing five people that night - draining them dry and leaving their corpses in the sewer. Rebekah had been lighthearted and both of them lost their clothes in the river that day; afterwards, she had been adamant about visiting Japan and the two had simply packed up and rerouted their flight. Three days later, they were in Japan dining on fresh sushi made by a chef who's skill was world renowned. Neither of them mentioned what they did. Neither of them wanted to mention what they did.
"Hey, Damon? I think you should call your brother."
"Why?"
"Just a thought."
That was the closest either of them got to the subject.
When Rebekah began to stir as she felt the warm rays of Parisian sun shine upon her face, she opened her eyes not to find a golden beam of sun, but rather two intense blue eyes staring back into there own green ones.
She smirked.
"What do you want, Damon?"
"You."
"At nine AM?"
The only reply she got henceforth was his own lips caressing hers and his body placed gently atop, whilst one of his hands (those hands) buried themselves in her hair. She would never admit it, but she adored it when Damon made love to her in the mornings, he was more gentle, thoughtful, and everything he did seems to have a purpose. Such as when his lips pressed against her collarbone, as if to acknowledge how delicate she truly was; when his fingers gently threaded to her hair, marveling at the threads of spun silk. She laughed inwardly when he would growl in frustration to his growing erection at so early a time but it was with a tender sweetness that she would kiss him back when he did growl - because who could ever resist a stormy Damon Salvatore?
"Ah Monsieur et Mademoiselle Salvatore! Vous comme un cafe pour le matin aujourd'hui?"
"Mais bien sur, Monsieur LeBlanc."
Rebekah smiled - that intriguing little smile she gave when she was genuinely pleased or happy - and it sent the elderly man scurrying away to please the great lady. Damon merely wrapped his arm closer to her and sat down, dragging the black grate chair closer to hers.
The sunlight was warm when he spoke.
"You know," he began "if you ever get sick of Paris, there's always Rome to go to."
Rebekah arched a delicate brow, "now why would I want to leave a city so enamored with me?" Laughingly, Rebekah gave thanks to the old man who had returned with their coffee cups and had placed a small bouquet of pink wildflowers next to hers. Turning towards Damon, Rebekah smiled, "now if you wanted to leave, I'd understand why."
The fact that Damon possessed an Original with a sex appeal that drew men around her like bees to honey, it was no wonder that he was not the most loved visitor of beautiful Paris. He had, on more than one occasion, compelled a man to walk out of a bar and straight into a speeding car (though those speeding cars were only speeding out of a compelling Damon).
In turn to this, Damon smirked. "Not at all Blondie. Just wondering if you needed a change of scenery." He paused to bring her in closer, "there is a whole damn world out there for you after all."
And in that moment, Rebekah understood. He was giving her a chance to run away - a chance to be free (as he supposed), not to be tied down with him anymore. To leave and travel and visit those brothers who, although she claimed to hate, loved more than anyone on the face of the earth. Too many times had Damon Salvatore been called a selfish and heartless bastard, too many times had he been condoned for not understanding the feelings of others. But in the time span of the current situation, all Rebekah could think about was a man willing to sacrifice his own happiness (once again) to free someone else from the burdens it could bring.
To that, Rebekah's face softened; her eyes shown with a strange emotion that she refused to address as love (but it was something Damon Salvatore saw, and clung onto). Placing her head upon his chest, she looked out into the distance, admiring the cobblestone streets of Paris, its old urban landscape and how it had retained an 19th century feel throughout it all. The muted tones of sand, gold and other shades of oak; the daylight made Paris appear all 18th century and nostalgic - the nights made Paris appear to be a 19th century whirlwind of speakeasies and endless soirees. How could she ever leave? Tilting her head up, Rebekah saw Damon's eyes intently fixed upon hers; somehow, they always were.
Her eyes lit up.
"I like Rome."
His face fell, but the composure the followed was done at so rapid a pace, human eyes would have failed to detect it. She laughed.
"But you better have liked putting up with the men mooning over me here - because they'll do it in Rome, too."
Damon Salvatore grinned.
"The cars in Rome are a lot faster than the ones in Paris, Blondie. Be prepared for a whole lot of deaths."
"You're not going to be compelling anyone there, Damon Salvatore. Keep doing that and I'll run out of suitors."
Damon pulled Rebekah up to meet his eyes, the devious green and magnetizing blue were hypnotic. "I," Damon began, "should and will be your only suitor. Let the rest of the idiots figure that out for themselves; I'll use speeding cars or anything else to get them to know you're mine."
A weak chuckle escaped Rebekah's lips, "you're almost as bad as Nik."
The dark laughter that came from Damon sent shivers down Rebekah's spine, leaning in until his breath tickled her jaw, he whispered in a tone so seductive she nearly came undone there and then:
"I don't like people touching what's mine."
"Yours?"
Damon straightened, a grin playing on his lips. "You didn't think after all this time I wouldn't put a claim on you? No, you were mine the moment you decided to buy furniture for the house."
Rebekah frowned a thousand emotions running through her like air particles suddenly cluttering together due to a hurricane. What terms were there with her emotions with Damon? They'd left numerous things unsaid, but even she could feel those unspoken rules began to crumble when they purchased that little piece of paradise from Monsieur LeBlanc. She would never admit how delighted she was when she heard the door slam shut at exactly three o'clock and hear Damon bellow a childish "Honey! I'm home!" before proceeding to ravish her; she would never admit how they fought like a married couple (and liked it). She'd never admit the joy that erupted within when the sales associate believed them to be married and had addressed them as Mr and Mrs Salvatore; she could never speak of the pleasure she held when she secretly witnessed Damon throwing away that beloved photograph of Elena, the one he always kept in his wallet, and replaced the picture with Rebekah. And feeling of full and extreme euphoria that came while watching Titanic and hearing Damon casually mentioned that what they shared was stronger than what a 'overconfident street artist' and a 'fat little aristocrat' could ever possess.
Rebekah steeled herself and fixed a gaze so truculent upon him that Damon swore he saw those liquid pools of green harden into the most divine of emeralds.
"If you're saying this just because I'm some sort of consolation prize to your beloved Elena, then I'll rip your heart out faster than you can catch another breath." She arched an eyebrow at him expectingly.
Damon's eyes lighted with mirth at Rebekah's fierce description before giving a smirk and acknowledging that "you're a prize of gold, Blondie. What can I say? I only take what's best." He added with a wink.
And at those words, Rebekah's eyes melted once again before looking at him, this time a look of what appeared to be…hesitation? appeared upon her countenance. She straightened, "I care a lot about you Damon, you know I do. But this doesn't change the fact that you know me all too well-you know that I…I have a tendency to fall and give all my love and everything to-"
Turning her cheek, Damon pulled her in.
They'd never kissed in public.
Finishing, he smiled down. "Face it Bex, you love me. And I love you. We're quite a pair if you think about it."
Rebekah's eyes glowed with something akin to both love and relief; her lips met Damon's and she nearly moaned aloud at his slick and quick tongue entering her own. Pulling away, she looked at him,
"If you really want to make this official, then you're going to have to brave not only my brother's now but Caroline too."
"For you, I'm willing to go through the psycho Original Brothers and newly wed Mrs. Klaus Mikaelson Barbie."
"And…" at this Rebekah hesitated, "do you really not love Elena anymore?"
Damon knew he shouldn't laugh, knew he shouldn't find this humorous but the fact of it was, he found this absolutely comical. He'd learnt long ago about who Elena Gilbert truly was; despite that innocent, naive and very kind facade she kept on, he knew exactly what went on underneath it. Elena cared for no one apart from herself, she'd thrown himself, Stefan, hell, she even put her own brother on the line to protect her own life. She wasn't afraid to hurt people to aid in her benefit, and he suspected that half the time she knew exactly what she was doing; the woman he'd once been besotted with was nothing more than a scheming wench who'd pulled a fast one on him and kept him in the dark for her own purposes of thinly veiled selfish acts. He had become charmed by her because of her resemblance to a woman he'd once loved - Katherine; but what Elena lacked in Katherine's charms, the feistiness, the life, the independence and strength, the true things that had caused him to love Katherine were the very things Elena lacked. He had made up excuses for that; he'd forced himself to admire her lesser qualities and then, in an act of Midas, turned those qualities to gold in his mind.
But with Rebekah, and at this Damon sobered when he saw the hurt look in those beautiful green eyes of hers. With Rebekah, he never had to force himself to endear her qualities at all - quite the opposite, for as long as Damon could remember, he had wanted so desperately to hate the Original, something he'd failed to do. He adored her - she was mesmerizing, bold, witty, charming and saw everything for what it was. She put her whole heart in everything she did and for that, Damon knew she had long held his heart in the palm of her hand, it was something he simply didn't wish to acknowledge.
Glancing at the blond beauty in front of him, he saw her hesitation and reached for her hand, pulling it towards his chest and atop his heart. With a soft sigh of contentment he leaned inward until their foreheads touched, "with you Rebekah, you make me feel like I'm a king; you give your whole heart in what you do - and," leaning back to look her in the eye "I love you more than I've ever loved any woman. And I will love you more than I will any woman; Elena was an fixation, you, Rebekah, you're my addiction. One I'm never giving up. I need you now like I need," and here he chuckled "forgive me for the ah, lack of romance in this word but…I need you like I need blood. Always."
And Rebekah's eyes simply lit; lit like a thousand lights had been placed behind those glowing green orbs, those windows into that soul of hers. Leaning inward, she whispered, "I love you too, Damon Salvatore."
Request is bid to Mr. Stefan Salvatore and Ms Elena Gilbert:
Lord and Lady Niklaus Mikaelson
request the pleasure of your company
at the marriage of their sister
Rebekah Diane Mikaelson
to
Mr. Damon S. Salvatore
at St. Sebastian's Cathedral, Perugia
on Saturday 12th, July
at 11 o'clock
and afterwards at
Mikaelson Alcazar
Review.