Haven't written TVD in a while and I'm suffering from withdrawal symptoms, so here ya go! Vampcest, spoilers for 2:22. Disclaimer: I don't own
You're going to die anyway, so what does it matter?
And it's not even a 'you're going to die eventually' thing – it's a 'you're going to die next week' thing. And if this is the last week you've got to live, you'll be damned if you spend it moping and sitting around feeling sorry for yourself (which is ironic because you're pretty sure you're damned anyway).
You're certainly not going to go out like a sissy, or like Stefan – brooding and miserable. But you're not going to be entirely 'yourself' either. Because there are a good few things you'd like to do before you die, and they all have to get done in a much shorter space of time.
One of them, the first one on the list, is kissing Stefan. You know how wrong it sounds, how wrong it is, but you just can't help yourself. For 140 years you've been dreaming of those lips, fantasising about how they would feel, how they would taste. And you're certainly not going to go out before you've fulfilled your desires.
And there are other things you want to do to Stefan too, much worse things. Like screwing him, and killing him. But no, you'll settle for just a kiss. And aver out-of-character kiss at that – a sweet, tender, loving kiss. An' I'm-gonna-miss-you', 'we-should've-done-this-ages-ago', 'you-never-know-what-you've-got-till-it's-gone' kiss.
You're a little nervous, which is stupid, because you're Damon Salvatore, and Damon Salvatore doesn't get nervous, but you approach him. He goes to say something – his lips part slowly (seductively) and you can't stop yourself.
You push him none-too-gently up against the wall and you crash your lips to his.
And it isn't how you imagined it at all.
You aren't sweet and gentle and loving – you're rough, eager, needy. Your anger wars with your lust and he's right in the middle of the fight.
His lips aren't the softest you've ever kissed – they're chapped and swollen from too many other kisses.
And there's no sudden light, like a veil lifted from over your eyes – there's just the two of you: brothers.
And it's wrong.
It's sick, and twisted, and disgusting.
But you can't stop.
Neither of you can.
You both feel the wrongness of it, but you both know that this is the last chance you have, so you can't bring yourselves to waste it. You can't bring yourselves to stop.
#~#~#
In the morning, you're alone, and you're glad. You wouldn't have been able to face him. 'At least you can die now knowing that you hadn't really missed out on a lifetime's worth of Stefan' you tell yourself, but you know it's no good.
Because if you'd done it differently, if you'd done it sooner, if you'd done it softer, if you'd done it better- the possibilities are endless. And they're what torture you the most: the endless possibilities.
Most people have some regrets in their life when they die – things they wish they'd done differently, things they wish they could've had the chance to do. But you, you have no excuse. You've been alive for fifty years longer than most, but still you've managed to screw it up.
You've resigned yourself to your fate now, so you don't even care that Stefan avoids you like the plague.
All you can do is hope.
And you hope (pray) that he'll remember you, not as a pathetic, broken, desperate man, but as the invincible Damon Salvatore that you used to be. Because that's all you can do now, as you wait for death.
Hope.
I'm not really sure if I like this one – comments?
xx