Disclaimer: Not my characters, obviously. Just playing in their world for a while.

Title courtesy of Ed Sheeran's "Tenerife Sea."

This story was born out of all the delicious ideas circulating about the much hoped- and dreamed-for DE reunion sex in the upcoming season. After a little prompting from some amazing Twitter buds, I realized I couldn't resist giving it a shot. ;)

I laughed while writing this. I got all hot and bothered. I cried.

Rated M for (lots of) smut and language.

Reviews are always appreciated. :)

Enjoy!

As she washes the rest of the conditioner out of her hair, Elena stares at the bottles on the shelves. All her favorite scents. Most are her usual brands, and in the instances where he couldn't get the exact same one, he found something so similar it doesn't even matter. Shampoo, body wash, soap, bubble bath—hell, even her razor.

Everything's waiting for her like she never left. The bathroom counter looks the same, right down to the dental floss. Her curling iron and brush are there, too. She meant to ask Damon about it, but he disappeared as soon as she set foot in the shower.

"Just when I was hoping he'd join me," she murmurs, scrubbing her arms with the loofah. She's already washed thoroughly, but the thought that she hasn't showered in years—even if she was in a magically induced coma—gives her the heebs. How long does it take to wash off spell residue anyway?

"You rang?" The voice she's been starved of hearing for too long enfolds her like a warm, well-loved blanket. He peeks around the glass wall, letting his gaze scour the length of her body. "What'd I miss? You didn't get to the good part without me, did you?" he asks, arching a dark brow.

"Where've you been? It's lonely in here." She offers a little pout. Pure enticement. "All by myself," she adds.

He smiles in that I-know-all-your-tricks-and-have-them-cataloged-in-my-brain sort of way. "I was busy, but I'm not now."

"Then get in here." She grabs his arm and tugs, and he allows himself to be pulled under the spray with her, soaking his hair and clothes. She runs a hand down his shirt, which sticks to him like a second skin. "I was going to wait until we got into bed, but I don't think I can anymore." She leans in, tonguing his beaded nipple through the fabric.

"How is it that I'm the one with restraint," he groans, backing her up against the wall. "You, baby, are a feast for the senses. A nine-course meal I plan to enjoy one"—he brushes his lips over hers, trailing them down to her throat—"taste"—he nibbles on her collarbone—"at"—his tongue flicks the tip of her nipple—"a"—he kisses her navel—"time." He sinks to his knees, the sopping denim of his jeans slapping the tile floor. "And don't forget dessert, my favorite part."

Between one breath and the next, his mouth is fused to her sex, his tongue parting her folds and teasing its way to her clit. She gasps, one hand gripping his shoulder and the other tangling in his hair. Just as her hips start to sway, he pulls back, planting a wet kiss on her thigh.

"Wait . . . what . . ." she sputters as he reaches behind her to turn off the water. Taking her hand in his, he leads her out of the shower until she's standing on the fuzzy bath mat, dripping. In more ways than one. "Why'd you stop?"

"That was what I like to call a preview of what's to come, no pun . . . Nah. Pun definitely intended," he corrects with a smirk.

She smiles at Damon's playfulness, grateful he still has it after all he's been through. "Tease," she chides, taking a towel from the rack and mopping up the water pooling at his feet then using another one to dry herself off. "Why don't you get out of those clothes before there's a pond on the floor."

"Trying to get me naked. I see how it is."

"Are you kidding me? You'd be perfectly content at a nudist colony." She passes him a towel while he peels off his soggy jeans and t-shirt and tosses them in the tub.

He shrugs. "Tried it for a little while back in the sixties. Wasn't really my scene."

"Of course you did." She grabs a comb and starts working it through her wet hair. As she does, she notices Damon move with her so he's blocking her view of the bedroom. "What are you doing?"

"Standing here, completely in the buff. At your request."

God, I've missed this. "You're something, y'know that?"

"So I've heard."

When she gets out the last tangle and sets the comb aside, she turns to find him directly in front of her. She tries to peer over his shoulder but he moves again. "What are you hiding?"

"A surprise. Close your eyes," he instructs.

She does as requested, letting her lids drift shut until all she can see is blackness. She feels him step around her, his hands settling on her shoulders.

"Keep them closed. If you don't, I might have to bite you," he husks, nipping her earlobe. There's a little pinch, a hint of fang.

"Don't threaten me with a good time."

He chuckles then gently nudges her forward. She starts walking, letting him guide her into the room. When they come to a stop, she breathes in, catching the subtle scent of wood smoke. There's something else, too—a blend of spices she can't quite identify. The snapping and crackling of a fire in the hearth explains the first one, but the other . . .

"You can look now," Damon whispers, looping his arms around her waist.

Her eyes flutter open, and she gasps at the sight before her.

Candles. Dozens of them. On the mantle, the dresser, the bedside table, the floor. Their flames twitch and shimmy, casting undulating pools of light on the walls and ceiling.

And the bed . . .

A pristine, white duvet covers Damon's (and her) favorite piece of furniture. Scarlet rose petals adorn the top of it, reminding her of droplets of blood. It's beautiful and so, so—

"Perfect," she murmurs, finding her voice. "It's perfect."

"I want tonight to be everything. A new beginning for us." He kisses the top of her head, and the tears she's done a decent job of keeping at bay start to sting her eyes.

"It will be, and I can't wait for the next part of our journey, but before we get there, I have a request," she reveals, fanning herself to quell the impending sobfest.

"What's that?"

She turns in his arms, leaning in to nuzzle the underside of his jaw. "Love me as a vampire would," she murmurs against his skin, "one last time." Her mouth skims over his throat, and she gently bites down on the spot directly above his pounding pulse. A deep growl rumbles in his chest and he lifts her, guiding her legs around his hips.

Everything becomes a blur as he whisks her across the room. Seconds later, she finds herself pinned to the wall, his erection nudging her belly. Their mouths collide and it's electric, like they're connected by a live wire. She wants him like this—wild, unrestrained.

A hand slips between their bodies, trailing its way to her sex. He eases a finger inside, stroking her. "You're fucking drenched, Elena," he hisses.

"And it's all your fault." She moans as his finger abandons its exploratory mission. He brings it to his mouth and swirls his tongue around it, cleaning it of her juices while she watches, rapt.

"I'll never get tired of tasting you." He smacks his lips, and she feels a blush burn in her cheeks and spread like wildfire to her chest. "But a taste isn't going to cut it."

He tightens his grip on her and pushes away from the wall, then he's moving, taking them in the direction of the bed. Or at least she thinks that's where they're headed. Kind of hard to tell when Damon's tongue is tracing the seam of her lips, demanding entrance. She opens for him, then the familiar battle for dominance begins—one she's only too happy to lose.

Her suspicions are confirmed when her back meets the duvet, disturbing the rose petals and sending a flurry of them into the air only to rain down on her again. Damon follows a moment later, settling himself between her thighs and kissing his way from her throat to her breasts. He captures her nipple, sucking it into his mouth while he rolls the other one between his thumb and forefinger. She arches into his touch, crying out for more.

It's only when he reaches her belly button—leaving a warm, wet kiss there—that she remembers he's having all the fun. She pushes on his shoulder, trying to get him to roll over. As expected, he doesn't budge, so she gives it another go. This time he growls a little, flashing his fangs.

"Not fair," she groans.

"Who said anything about fair?" he counters, gently scraping her hip with the razor-sharp tips.

"Don't be greedy. I'm dying to get my hands, and mouth," she stresses, "on you, too."

He sighs in true dramatic fashion. "Fine. I suppose we can make it a mutual heavy petting session."

"You won't be complaining in a few minutes," she promises with a wink.

He shifts onto his side, and Elena takes advantage of his momentum, nudging him further until he's on his back. Before he can protest, she clambers on top of him, straddling his stomach. Her hand closes around his stiff length, slowly stroking him from base to tip.

"You little minx," he grits out behind her. "At least I can't complain about the view." He caresses her ass, letting his finger explore the valley between her cheeks as she shudders in delight.

She dips down, pressing a kiss to the head of his cock then running her tongue along the slit. Gripping the base, she takes him in an inch at a time, sucking harder as she pulls back, like she's catching the drips on a melting Popsicle.

"Christ, Elena," he groans, hips jerking under her ministrations.

While she relaxes her throat to allow him to go deeper, she feels him tugging on her waist, guiding her backward until her knees are on either side of his shoulders.

"That's better. Now, lower yourself some more . . ."

She ignores him, reaching between his legs to cup his balls and give them a light squeeze.

"Sit." The directive is followed by a swat on her ass. She lets out a muffled yelp, and when he pulls on her hips again, she sinks down until she feels the soft touch of his mouth on her sex.

He nuzzles her there then uses his thumbs to part her folds, dragging his tongue from her clit to her slick entrance.

"Uuuhhhnnn," she moans around his cock, the vibrations having a nice effect on him.

She loses track of time and everything else except Damon and the exquisite sensations he's creating. They settle into a sensual back-and-forth, give-and-take rhythm: a scrape of teeth here, the tease of lips there. When he starts fucking her with his tongue, urging her to rock her hips to meet each thrust, she knows she doesn't have much longer before he steals her ability to concentrate altogether.

Picking up the pace, she focuses on the little things that drive him crazy. She caresses the underside of his shaft, tracing the prominent vein that throbs in time with her strokes. Stealing one of his favorite tricks, she begins to hum, softly at first, then louder until he releases a throaty moan.

"So that's how it's going to be. Game on, baby." His fingers take the place of his tongue, and he pumps them into her while he lavishes attention on her clit, sucking and nipping her sensitive bud.

He's driving her closer to the brink with each pull of his talented mouth, but she's not alone. He's right there with her. Just a little bit more . . .

"Fuck, Elena. I'm about to come," he rasps, "and so are you."

She bobs her head faster, tugging on his rigid cock. Just as she feels the telltale jerk that announces his impending orgasm, he curls his fingers inside her and runs the smooth length of a fang over her clit. The combination sets off her internal powder keg, and she grips his thigh for support as her whole body trembles with the force of her release.

Damon snarls a few more choice curses, then his hips go frantic beneath her as he follows her into ecstasy. His seed bathes her tongue and the back of her throat, and she greedily swallows every drop. Pleased with her ability to make her usually unshakeable lover lose control, she lets his penis slip from her mouth. She closes her eyes, taking a moment to bask in her post-orgasm glow. Her respite is cut short, however, when she's suddenly flipped onto her back.

He looms over her, licking his lips. "Look at that sexy smile," he purrs. "Someone's proud of herself." He slides down her body, nudging her thighs apart and easing between them.

"What are you doing?" she gasps.

"I want more." He pauses to spread her open, gently lapping at her. "And I want to watch you come this time."

He doesn't waste another second, easily working her into the heightened state of arousal she was just floating in minutes ago. He glances up at her with a devilish smirk as he laves her slick flesh. "Ready?" he murmurs.

"I think s—ah!" she cries as his tongue flicks at her clit with inhuman speed. She bucks her hips, and he flattens a hand on her belly to keep her still. "Damon, I'm gonna c-c-c . . ." she stammers, unable to get the word out.

He nods eagerly, but he doesn't stop what he's doing to answer her. She flies apart under his hands—and his mouth—a piercing scream filling the air. He stays with her, easing her down from her orgasmic high until the tremors finally subside.

When she can focus her eyes again, she finds him studying the inside of her leg.

"Should I take it from here?" he quietly asks, lips hovering over her inner thigh as he places a tender kiss there.

She considers for a moment, heart racing at the realization that this is it. Damon's taking the cure. "I want you inside me, buried so deep I can't tell where you end and I begin," she decides. Her hand drifts over her throat, stopping at her pulse point. "And I want your mouth right here."

"I'm so fucking on board with that plan."

He eases her onto her stomach then curls an arm around her waist, propping her up on her knees. The head of his cock presses against her entrance, teasing her. She pushes back, trying to coax him inside, but Damon digs his fingers into her hips to halt her movements. A surge of heat floods her core, and she moans into the pillow beneath her cheek. He always knows just how rough to be without going beyond what she can handle.

After rubbing his hard shaft along the length of her slit until she's on the verge of begging him to take her, he drives into her, stealing her breath. He feels incredible, like steel wrapped in silk, and she sighs as he slides deeper until he's filling her completely. He stays there for a moment, letting her body reacquaint itself with his while he leans down to scatter kisses along the indentation of her spine.

When she shifts restlessly underneath him, he gets the hint and begins to move, slowly at first, then with a gradually quickening pace. Their hips slap together with each thrust, the stirrings of another orgasm making her inner muscles clench around him. He hisses, gripping her waist as he lifts her up so her back is pressed to his chest.

"I've missed us like this," he rasps, cupping her breasts and lightly pinching her nipples.

She gasps as he nips her throat then soothes the sting with his tongue. "Me, too."

"You're so hot, baby. So wet." His thumb finds her clit, rubbing it in time with his thrusts, which are starting to lose their finesse.

"Damon," she pants, pointing at the mirror leaning against the wall. "I want to watch. Please."

He grins, turning them slightly so she can see their reflection. It's an erotic sight, one she won't ever forget.

Elena's gaze meets his in the glass. "Are you ready for this?"

He nods, resolute—so different from when she last posed the question to him. "More than ever."

Her smile is positively beatific. "I love you, Damon Salvatore."

"I love you, too."

His lips caress the chosen spot on her neck, and she studies him as his features change, dark veins snaking across his cheeks and the whites of his eyes turning deep red. It's captivating, and she catalogs every detail, searing them into her memory. His mouth falls open, revealing his fully extended fangs, so sharp and lethal.

But never to her.

While she basks in his demonic beauty, he sinks his teeth into her throat, taking a long pull of her cure-laced blood. A surge of pleasure crashes into her, and she cries out from the powerful release.

As she goes limp in his arms, Damon continues to nurse at the wound on her neck, each stroke of his tongue sending aftershocks of bliss rolling through her. The last things she notices before the darkness closes in are his startled gasp and his eyes as they slowly drift shut.

"Elena . . ."

###

"Damon?" She strokes his chest, his arm, his cheek, trying not to let her worry get the best of her. It's unusual to see him so still. She came to after a few minutes, but he's been out for nearly twenty. She checks his pulse for the hundredth time, reassured by the steady beating of his heart.

Please wake up.

She reaches out to brush a stray lock of hair off his forehead, and he shifts, whispering her name.

"I'm here," she soothes, squeezing his hand. His eyes gradually open, dark lashes parting to reveal those striking pale blue irises she gets lost in on the regular.

"I can't hear it," he rasps.

"Hear what?"

"The clock." Elena glances at the clock on the bedside table, which is digital. She's starting to wonder if Damon's mind survived the transition fully intact when he clarifies. "The grandfather clock downstairs. I'm so used to hearing it that it seems bizarre without it. I used to count the ticks until I fell asleep. I didn't get very far when you were here with me, but when you weren't . . . I could easily get into the thousands."

He carefully rolls over, flexing his hands and bending his knees like he's using them for the first time. Something makes him pause mid-stretch, and a bewildered look crosses his face.

"I can't hear your heart beating anymore, either," he whispers, sounding absolutely gutted by the realization.

She cups his cheek, feathering her thumb over his stubble-roughened skin. "That's not true. You just have to get a little closer." When he scrunches his brows in confusion, she guides his head down until it's resting on her chest just above her left breast. "Hear that?"

He listens for a minute. "Yeah, I do. It's one of my favorite sounds in the world," he says with a smile, pressing a kiss there. They lie together in companionable silence for a short while until he turns, gazing up at her. "Everything's so quiet. Peaceful. I'd forgotten what it's like."

"Nice, isn't it?"

"Mmhmm."

"So, what's the first thing you want to do now that you're human again?" she asks, plucking a crushed petal out of his hair and brushing another off his shoulder.

He inches higher, his warm breath fanning her lips. "I wanna love you, the way I always will." His mouth covers hers in a kiss so tender, so reverent, it brings tears to her eyes. "And I wanna do this."

His hand disappears under the pillow, and when he withdraws it, his fingers are closed around something she can't see.

"You've changed my life. Literally. You've given me back what I never thought I could have again. You taught me to dream. To believe in a future where we could be together. After everything that's happened, I started to wonder if we'd ever get to this point, but now that it's here, I can't wait another second," he pauses, taking her hand in his free one. "There's only one woman I want to spend the rest of my days with, and that's you. Elena Gilbert, you're already my soulmate, but would you make me the luckiest, crazy happiest sonofabitch in the history of forever and be my wife?"

He uncurls his fingers, revealing a black velvet box, which he opens and places on her belly. Inside is a glittering, princess-cut diamond set in a thin silver band that's also encrusted with miniature diamonds.

Her vision blurs, obscuring Damon's face as he waits for her answer. She wipes away the tears but more arrive to take their place, and she eventually gives up. "Yes. God, yes!" she adds with a watery laugh.

She manages to hold still long enough for him to slip the ring onto her finger, then she's kissing him and hugging him tight and he's kissing her back until they're both out of breath but too content to care.

"There's so much to do. I'm exhausted just thinking about it," she murmurs when they finally take a break, resting their foreheads against each other as they drag some much-needed air into their depleted lungs.

"Oh, I don't know. I may have a few things figured out."

"Really? Like what?"

"A job I'll actually enjoy doing and a place to live that's near a good medical school. Stuff like that."

She stares at him in disbelief. "You're kidding."

"Nope. It's pretty close to your original plan, although it does involve a little switcheroo from the East Coast to the West. Still interested?"

Her response is lost in a half sob/half laugh, and she tackles him to the bed, easing up slightly when he groans, eyes rolling back in his head.

"Damon, what's wrong?" Her hands flutter over him in a panic, trying to assess what might be happening.

"Could you just . . . move your . . . leg . . . a tad?" he grits out.

Looking down, she discovers she's practically kneeing him in the groin. "Oh, shit. Sorry!" She scrambles to reposition herself, and he sighs in relief. "Better?"

"Much."

"I could make it up to you, if you'd like . . ." she trails off, her fingers circling the base of his cock and feathering light strokes over the smooth skin. He's getting hard again already, despite her misstep.

He moans, thrusting into her grip. "You're killing me, baby."

"No, I'm not. You're not going anywhere. We have our whole lives ahead of us—human lives—and I'm gonna need you there with me every step of the way. 'Till death do us part,' remember?"

His smile is radiant. It's so open, so joyful, so . . . free. At last. "Till death do us part," he echoes, tugging her close so they can seal their promise to each other with a slow, sensual kiss.

She lets herself sink into his embrace, marveling at how far they've come. After the loneliness, tragedy, separation, and pain, everything's finally right.

Just . . . right.