This was seriously so much fun to write; Damon Salvatore is my favorite fictional character ever. Hope it's at least a tiny bit of fun to read. Listened to two songs on constant repeat while writing this: Of Verona's "Dark in My Imagination" and Ruelle's "Monsters"
Harsh buzzing filled the interior of Damon's Camaro.
Elena reached for a cell phone that was vibrating in a cup holder and glanced at the glowing screen, an unpleasant look on her pretty face. She sighed and held it out to him. "Just answer it so he'll stop calling."
The corners of his eyes tightened but he accepted the phone and jammed the slim, black device against his ear. "Someone can't take a hint."
"Damon." To the elder Salvatore, who knew his brother uncomfortably well, it sounded like Stefan was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. His voice was laced with strain. "Where are you right now?"
"Well, hello to you, too, brother. I assume you have a good reason for blowing my phone up like a crazy ex-girlfriend?"
"It sounds like you're driving."
"Very astute, Stefan. Lemmie guess, Klaus is standing right next to you, and he's threatening to go all hybrid on your ass if you don't help him find me." One hand lightly holding the wheel, he navigated easily around a black Lincoln Navigator who was moving way too slowly in the fast lane. Elena lounged in the seat beside him, elbow on the window ledge. After a seven hour drive, Atlanta's skyline was just coming into sight. A cold drizzling rain meant the top was still up, but the many lights of the streets and skyscrapers were easily visible.
Stefan's voice interrupted his concentration. "You can't leave town. Not now."
"Save it. Mystic Falls is but a non-existent speck in my rear view mirror."
"Damon…" Stefan's voice was pained. "Klaus told me what happened…what he did to you. All you have to do is want to turn your humanity back on. Whatever's happened, it's on Klaus, not you."
Klaus's voice piped up in the background. "Just get on with it, why don't you. Tell him to reveal his whereabouts immediately or I'll sever the spine of everyone he cares for."
"Did you hear me, Damon?" His brother continued like Klaus wasn't blustering over his shoulder. "This is not your fault. I know you're angry with me; we both said things we shouldn't have. I'm sorry."
"I'm not interested in your psycho-babble, brother, and Klaus of all people should know that threats against the people I 'care about' don't really apply right now."
"I know it might not seem like it now, but you always care about what's best for Elena. I need your help to find her. She needs us. Her car just showed up mysteriously in the driveway, and I have no idea what that means."
In his peripheral vision, he saw Elena roll her eyes which made him smile. "Well, Elena, what do you think? Should I strap on my hero hair and rent a white horse? Are you in need of some rescuing?"
"Tempting, but I think I'm good."
"See? She's good."
"Wait, is she with you?" Stefan asked in disbelief.
"Yup." He made sure to really pop that 'p' with his lips. "But don't worry. I plan on taking really good care of her."
She stuck her tongue out at him before giggling.
"Damon, where are you and Elena going-"
"Sorry, Stef, gotta run. Tell Klaus to take a hybrid-size chill pill, and you can do us both a favor and stop being such an insufferable pain in my ass." He dropped the phone back into the cup holder with a distasteful look on his face. Jesus, his baby bro was a buzz-kill. He silently dared it to ring again. When it didn't, he was somewhat mollified.
"Where are we going?" Elena inquired, reaching out to fiddle with the dials on his radio.
He slapped her hand away. "Last I checked, we were still headed to Atlanta, hoping Katherine hasn't moved on yet."
"Atlanta's a big city. A lot bigger than Mystic Falls."
"Yes, it is. It's like this: Katherine always tries to insert herself into the upper echelons of society so that she can surround herself with powerful people."
"Like she did in Mystic Falls with your family."
"Exactly," he said and smiled crookedly. "Of course, as we've all now learned the hard way, that's no protection from Originals. We'll start there. But first…" He curled his upper lip and made a gesture that encompassed her from head to toe.
"Excuse me? What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means you need some new clothes if you're going to fit in with a bunch of elitist snobs. You look all…," he searched for the right term, "road-trippy."
Her eyes lit up. "We're going shopping?"
He grinned. "Sure, in a manner of speaking."
"Sooooo….what do you think?" Damon watched Elena emerge from the dressing room in a lacey red cocktail dress. It was fun and flirty, the skirt knee-length and the sleeves descending to her elbows. She was almost painfully vivid, the vibrant red silk a lovely contrast against her skin the same color as richly oiled cedar. Her backdrop only enhanced this impression.
The room they were in was small, a cramped mall store. It had white walls, white floors, a white ceiling, and white furniture. There was no art on the wall or flowers at the register to interrupt the ultramodern, ultra white design, just three full-size mirrors positioned in a horseshoe shape outside the dressing room and a few racks of designer dresses strategically placed around the store. The front was glass and a couple of manikins posed in the windows wearing a sampling of the store's wares. Anybody who walked by would have an easy time looking in. Luckily, it was one in the morning and the mall was closed. Unless, of course, one possessed the ability to magically coerce two mall employees to return afterhours and unlock the doors, turn on the lights, and disable any security cameras and alarms. Compel the mall cops to steer clear and viola! He and Elena had the place to themselves.
Damon briefly set aside the fashion magazine through which he was idly browsing. He rested languidly on one of the diamond-tucked leather couches just outside the fitting rooms, both legs crossed over the arm. He looked like a dark, deadly panther. There was a glass table next to him littered with more magazines. "Turn around." He drew a small circle in the air with his right index finger.
She stuck her arms out parallel to the ground and performed a twirl, looking like an enchanting doll, the dress swirling around her in a frothy crimson wave.
He cocked his head and gazed at her with an appraising eye. Finally, he shrugged and said, "It could show more cleavage."
Elena glared. "You've said that about every single dress I've tried on."
"And I've meant it about every single dress you've tried on." Truthfully, this one did show off a wonderfully decent amount of her sexy legs, but he couldn't bring himself to care which dresses she ended up choosing. It was hard to get excited about her putting on clothes when he knew how delectable she looked without them. If he had his way – something he was determined to have very soon – they would be somewhere with a bed and whenever they got hungry they'd just order in – and eat whoever showed up at the door.
Elena casually stepped over the corpse of a store employee in order to stand before the arc of mirrors to admire her reflection with an unobstructed view. She smoothed her hands along the tight sheer fabric. "I like it. I think it's classy."
"Then why don't you ask the opinion of a professional?" He gestured casually at a terrified woman standing not five feet away. He'd compelled her to stay put and ix-nay on the drama. Her coworker hadn't lasted very long. Acquiring a new wardrobe for Elena was surprisingly thirsty work.
Elena smiled brightly at the lady. "Do you like it?"
"Please don't hurt me," the employee whimpered, no doubt traumatized after witnessing her colleague's violent death.
"The dress," Elena reiterated impatiently, twirling again.
"Please, please, please don't hurt me. Do you want money? I have some. Let me open the safe. Take anything you want from the store. I swear I won't tell anyone."
Damon rose gracefully and approached her. "Come on, don't be tedious. I get hungry when I'm bored." He watched the sales lady's pulse hammer wildly in her neck, the swiftly racing blood singing sweetly to him like a siren's song. He yanked her against him and pressed his lips along the line where her collarbone joined her throat, so pale and warm. "Why don't you just answer her question?"
Tears spilled down her cheeks as she whispered, "It-you look r-really nice."
"There, that wasn't so bad, was it?" he murmured gently. "I bet you're so pretty when you're screaming."
"Damon," Elena cautioned, "don't kill her. You got to kill the last one."
He shook his head and ran his fingers through the employee's badly dyed reddish-blonde hair. The florescent lighting in this place was doing her no favors. "Always nagging. Do you see what I have to put up with?"
Elena rested her hands on her hips, intensifying her annoyed expression. "I mean it. Save me some."
He didn't like following orders. He flashed a cold smile at Elena before sinking his fangs into the sobbing woman's throat.
Elena took a step toward him as if she meant to stop him, and he looked up, blood leaking from the corners of his mouth. "Ah-ah, you get blood on it, you buy it," he cautioned. He enjoyed her piqued look and renewed his bite, letting blood laced with adrenaline and fear endorphins flood his body. He listened to the woman's heart slow before beating a final feeble time. Letting the body drop to the ground, drained of all its blood, he licked his lips with extra relish just to aggravate Elena.
"Seriously? Now I'm hungry." She scowled. "And I hate this dress. Who designs this shit?"
Damon resumed his seat on the couch and returned to thumbing through his magazine while Elena stomped back to the racks to find a different dress to try on. The hangers made little clicking noises as she sorted through them.
"Just take them all," he advised generously. He was in an incredibly good mood. That sales girl packed quite the kick. When a Lady Gaga song came on over the piped-in music station, he began to sing along.
Elena paused mid-swipe to look at him skeptically. "I can't believe you actually know the words to this song."
"There are many things you don't know about me. I'm chock full of surprises." His mouth twisted into a bitter smile.
Elena selected a new dress and made her way back to the mirrors, holding it up to see if she liked the way it looked on her. "I know you're afraid you'll lose me to Stefan if I turn my humanity back on."
Damon snorted. "Not afraid. And I guess we can't all be blessed with beauty and brains."
"Ha. Ha." She disappeared into a dressing room.
Gracefully regaining his feet, he advanced on her like a jungle cat stalking its prey, slipping in behind her with nary a whisper of noise.
"Get out. I'm changing," she snapped peevishly, glowering at his reflection in the mirror on the back wall of the changing room. One of her arms was out of its sleeve, revealing a tempting swath of tan skin.
"I can see that, Captain Obvious." His lips crooked in a half-smile.
"Remind me again why I invited you along?"
"Because I'm the brains of this operation. And I'm irresistible. Adorable like a puppy."
"If you're the brains, this mission is screwed," she retorted dryly.
"I hope you mean that literally." He wrapped his hands around her slim waist and pulled her back against his torso. He brushed aside her lavender-scented hair and planted kisses on the back of her neck, softer than velvet.
He dimly saw Elena roll her eyes at his humor before smiling sexily at him in the mirror. Changing the subject, she asked, "Do you remember that time at the Grill? When we were in the restroom together?"
"I'll need you to be more specific." He furrowed his brow, growing thoughtful. "Huh, it's kind of creepy how often we find ourselves sharing public restrooms."
The partially undressed girl reminded him, "Right before Pastor Young's funeral. When we shared blood." She turned in his arms and popped the collar on his leather jacket.
"Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?" he asked, eyes riveted on her beguiling mouth. Her lips looked like they'd been perfectly designed for sin, and such sinful plans he had for them.
"Well, you do have fresh shopkeeper running through your veins right now," Elena said lightly, her irises shimmering with color.
"You are not wrong." God, he hoped she was implying what he thought she was implying. And he really, really hoped that she was going to bite him somewhere more… interesting than his hand.
She started at his mouth, nipping and drawing blood, then suckling the wound, soothing it with her tongue. He grunted and shoved her into the wall of the fitting room, pinning her with the weight of his body, the delicate swell of her breasts pressing into his chest unbearably erotic.
Without breaking their kiss, she boldly gripped the neckline of his black shirt and rent it straight down the middle. She smoothed her fingers up the roped steel of his torso and out along the broad swell of his shoulders, easing his torn tee and jacket down his arms, the material falling away under her exploring hands.
Laughing, he observed, "It's a good thing I don't pay for shit, 'cause you're hard on a man's wardrobe."
"Damon, shut up."
"Make me," he growled, flaring his incredibly blue eyes. He was enjoying this turn of events. Rough and tumble Elena willing to just take, capable of being more than merely prey, a predator in her own right…. He personally had no objections.
She reversed their position, thrusting him rearward against the wall where the changing mirror hung. It shattered on impact, slivers of glass embedding themselves into his back and shoulders. Honestly, he didn't even notice. Her lips abandoned his to rove lower down his throat on their way to his chest, tongue whispering its way across his pale skin like erotic butterflies. Sensations bombarded him until he sagged against the mirror, heart thundering so hard he feared it would burst through his chest.
A thought wiggled its way through, soft and elusive as a wisp of smoke: God, I am so in love with this girl - wait, what? Love? No! He ruthlessly suppressed that offensive thought. Not going to let that creep in. It would only ruin everything. He wasn't ready for this to end. He would never be ready. He summoned back the receding darkness, and it returned, rushing in like a warm tidal wave, permeating and numbing the part of him that was trying to sabotage his pleasure. This monster was not going back in his box.
"Holy shit, Elena," he breathed, closing his eyes and allowing his head to fall back against the dressing room wall with a thud. Just let it never stop. "I'm going to bend you over every surface in this store and fuck you until the only word in your vocabulary is my name."
"Pretty sure I just said no talking." She worshipped his frame with her fingertips, admiring the incredible power in every sculpted inch of him, fingernails scraping against the unyielding planes of his body with just the right blend of pleasure and pain. Her hands stilled as they reached rock hard ass muscles. Her lips hesitated just above the waistline of his pants, gently lapping at the last of his exposed skin.
He opened one eye and cocked his head just enough to the side that he could look down at her kneeling body, crouched among discarded dresses and splinters of glass. Using his right hand, he threaded strong fingers through her long straight locks, gripping them tightly in his palm. He gave her hair a firm tug and was rewarded with the sound of a pleased purr. He pulled harder and forced her to look up at him through long, shining lashes. Locking gazes with Elena Gilbert when her face was directly adjacent to his crotch was a sight to behold.
If he were any kind of artist, he'd yearn to capture that look forever on paper – sultry pink lips parted on a gasp; dark, haunting eyes locked with his; the faintest blush creeping across delicate cheekbones; hair pulled back from her face, tangled silken strands wrapped tautly around his fist. He could get used to this – very easily.
Her hands tightened their grip on his ass, fingertips pressing into his flesh with urgency. He responded to her silent request by granting some slack in his grip. When he did so, she softly rubbed her nose in the crisp black hairs that lightly trailed their way from his naval to disappear under his slacks.
In the next moment, her face turned and she pressed a single kiss against his hipbone. Her tongue traced an indention in his flesh, that muscular half of the V on his abdomen which pointed the way to all the good stuff. He knew she could hear the fresh blood coursing through him, hot and potent.
She hissed softly and a delirious moan escaped him as her fangs glided through that clearly delineated ridge of muscle. Decadent moments slipped past while his stomach muscles twitched and leapt beneath the greedy pull of her lips. He felt it when her bite deepened, and his pleasure intensified. It was simultaneously too much and not even close to enough.
One of his hands descended to rub absent-mindedly over that part of himself that ached for attention, and then he retightened his hold on the back of her head so he could pull her off cause he was ready to have sex – he was always ready to have sex with her – but she pulled away of her own accord and swiveled to look at the dressing room door.
"Did you hear something?" she asked.
"What? No, I didn't hear anything. A little distracted." He tugged her back towards him. Her skin was warmed by the blood she'd drunk from him, and he wanted to lose himself in that heat.
She resisted him and stood, slipping back into both sleeves of her dress. "Okay, I definitely just heard something."
"Elena," he exclaimed, exasperated, "the mall's closed. There's no one here."
Despite his perfectly sound reasoning, Elena walked out to investigate.
Okay, being abandoned in a frustratingly painful state of need was definitely not the direction he'd envisioned this scenario heading. If there really was someone out there, they were about to die a violent, bloody death. Damon took a moment to compose himself and put his clothes back together – which didn't really work out well, since his shirt was ripped, his back was full of glass, and his pants were uncomfortably tight in the front.
Suddenly, there was a loud thump and a strangled yelp.
He poked his head out of the dressing room and saw Rebekah Mikaelson. She was on the ground over Elena, holding her by the throat. The younger vampire struggled furiously. "Get off me!"
"Katherine, you doppelganger bitch, you stole my cure. Tell me where it is." Rebekah's eyes dilated as she attempted to compel her.
"I'm on vervain," Elena spat contemptuously, "your compulsion won't work on me."
"Goodie. I guess I get to torture you, then."
Damon bent to retrieve his leather jacket off the ground and shook it heartily to scatter any glass fragments hiding in its folds. He slipped it back on and emerged fully from the small cubicle, lips crooked and arms crossed. "Mmm, sexy Bexy, please tell me you're here to fulfill my fantasy of being the meat in a kinky vampire sandwich." The glare she skewered him with instantly nixed that idea. "No? Ok, well, I also enjoy some good girl on girl torture. There's just one problem: that's not Katherine. I can see why you'd think that though," he added, masking his surprise: for some reason, Rebekah was here in Atlanta. Not the most fortuitous turn of events…unless he could somehow turn her presence to their advantage. Well, if anyone could manipulate the hell out of this desperate girl, it was him.
Rebekah pursed her lips and sat up, though she did not relinquish her grip on Elena. "You expect me to believe this is your beloved Elena, for whom you'd move heaven and earth in order to prevent her from getting a hangnail?"
"I would have before your dick of a brother made it so I wouldn't care about anything at all."
"You're just going to let me torture her?" She sounded hopeful.
"I could stop you how?" He smiled in a self-deprecating manner.
"Good point."
"As long as I get to watch, of course." While Rebekah's gaze slid back to the enraged Elena with glee, he thought furiously. Rebekah was strong enough to take down Katherine and keep her down. He'd been struggling with that part of the plan. It was one thing to find the bitch and another to keep her contained. "Unless…" he began, trailing off with a cunning expression.
Rebekah rolled her eyes and exhaled audibly. "Unless what, Damon?"
"Might I be so bold as to suggest an alternative?"
The blonde girl grimaced. "I'm listening. Though it had better be good if I'm going to forgo torturing the girl who stabbed me in the back. Literally."
"Let it go already," Elena snarled.
Damon continued. "I assume you're here for the same reason we are: Katherine's in town. Feel like trading up doppelgangers? I mean, we are all working toward the same end. Common sense says…" he trailed off.
"Common sense says you'll just betray me like you did the last time. No thanks, I'll pass."
"Except this time we don't want the cure for ourselves. There's no reason to betray you. You can keep it, pinky swear." Damon endeavored to look innocent. Not his easiest look.
"I believe you don't want it, Damon, you have the most to lose." She looked down her nose at her captive. "But Elena wants it."
Elena smirked. "Wrong, guess again."
The pretty Original stared at her hard for a moment and then a lazy half-smile spread across her glossy pink lips. "So, you turned off your humanity. Good for you. Maybe now you'll be slightly less dull than you were before."
"Look, Rebekah," Damon interrupted, plopping back down on a couch. He interlaced his fingers and stretched his arms behind his head. "Frankly, I don't give a damn what you do. Help us or not, just hurry up and make a decision. We were kind of in the middle of something."
The cure represented the only hope this gorgeous, hopelessly romantic girl possessed. Without it, she'd never achieve what she desired most: a chance to be human and live out a human life. No way was she just walking away from that. He snorted quietly, unable to empathize. Like being young and strong forever was such a tragedy. Whatever, he just hoped that she would see the benefit in pooling their resources. He waited with half-lidded eyes.
Damon saw the moment she made up her mind. It was apparent in the set of her shoulders. She sighed and released her hold on Elena who whooshed up and across the room, out of her reach. "Fine. What dreary task do you have in mind?"
"We just need to locate Katherine, eyes peeled and all that mumbo-jumbo."
"I still don't understand what's in it for you? Couldn't you just let Katherine keep the cure and never risk your precious Elena at all?"
He grinned and gestured to Elena who moved to stand beside him. He took her hand and brought it to his lips, darting a smile at Rebekah. "I'll give you three guesses, and the answer starts with sss and ends with –ex."
A rude sound emerged from the depths of Rebekah's throat. "You're both disgusting, you know that? Anyway, finding Katherine should be easy. Here." She pulled out her phone and swiped across the screen. His sensitive ears picked up the sound of dialing. And then to his absolute horror, Klaus's voice.
"Rebekah! My favorite sister."
Rebekah's smile was cruel and beautiful. "Niklaus, not my favorite brother. How long would it take you to get to Atlanta? Damon and Elena are here and they are hot on Katherine's trail."
Damon leapt to his feet and tried to grab her phone but she spun away deftly.
He missed how Klaus responded, but Rebekah said, "Perfect, see you soon," into the phone and hung up.
"What the hell?" he growled. The last thing he wanted was Klaus's interference. Or even his simple presence.
"You said you wanted my help," she reminded him, slipping the slim phone into a back pocket.
"Ok, we need to review your definition of helping, because that was the complete opposite! He's not gonna let you get your grubby mitts on the cure when he wants it for himself! Why would you work with him?"
"Let me handle Niklaus," she assured him. "No one knows Katherine better than my brother, not even you Salvatores."
"I'm still confused how this is supposed to help us find Katherine."
Damon smiled condescendingly down at Elena and widened his eyes inquisitively. "So many questions. You wanted to have fun, right?"
"Yes, but-"
"No more talking. Let's dance."
He pulled her body against his. Melting, she wrapped her arms around his neck and moved with him as if they were one. Her long brown hair cascaded down her back, and though she wore no makeup, her skin was luminous and her eyes shone fiercely. She was stunning in a skin-tight mango-red dress, and she danced knowing that she was stunning and that everyone who gazed upon her coveted her. But he wasn't threatened in the least. Everyone might be lusting after this radiant, beautiful girl – something he could certainly understand – but he was secure in the knowledge that not a single person here could satisfy her dark side like he could. As long as he continued to sate that dark, dangerous, wanton part of her that had come out to play, she was his.
They danced for a while, hearts beating in sync to the bass-heavy electronic music. It was College Night, so they were surrounded by hundreds of young, energetic people who all looked good enough to eat. He had brought her here to this club for distraction and entertainment until Klaus arrived. He'd thought briefly about dipping out and trying to elude Rebekah, but the she-devil had stuck to them like fleas on a hybrid, uttering dire threats on a constant loop should they attempt to flee. She assured him that Klaus only wanted to talk, but he didn't trust her or Klaus. So he figured this was the best course – have some fun while waiting to see what Klaus wanted, which hopefully did not involve another round of torture. He had his fingers crossed on that one.
Her arms tightened around his neck. "Klaus is here."
He glanced back over his shoulder and saw the Original standing beside his sister at one of the crowded wooden bars surrounding them on three sides. They both waved mockingly. How cute.
"Damon-" Elena began and he felt her stiffen against him.
"Relax," he soothed, "I'll just go find out what he wants. I won't let him get anywhere near you." How he was going to keep that promise, he wasn't sure, but he was a master of improvisation.
He reluctantly disentangled himself from the warmth and suppleness of his beautiful companion and began making his way over to them. Elena remained on the floor and he knew she wouldn't lack for willing dance partners.
He glided through the crowded mass of humanity, and women and sometimes men stopped to stare at him with his straight nose and full, sensual lips, his high cheekbones and glacial blue eyes gleaming with Dionysian madness. His pale skin looked flawless and lights from the chandelier hanging overhead - classy place - glinted in hair the same shade as a raven's wing on a moonless night. A few of his bolder admirers put themselves directly in his path, no doubt hoping he'd stop to dance or just wanting to quickly touch him. He brushed past them all nimbly. He had eyes for none of them, focused only on the Mikaelson siblings waiting so patiently at the bar as he approached.
Klaus stood there in tailored pants and a maroon v-neck sweater made of cashmere. He looked utterly like he belonged in this club: urbane, sophisticated, and loaded with old world money.
"Just the thousand year old Viking hybrid freak I wanted to see – not," Damon said in a surly tone, giving Rebekah a reproachful stare. She was dressed in tight little blue number and looked as at home as Klaus, projecting her own aura of power and wealth.
She responded with a playful smile and Klaus commented, "Such hostility when we both know you should be thanking me. Enjoying the lovely Elena?"
"So, that whole 'can't-be-killed' thing you've got going on, does it still apply if I shove you into a wood chipper?" Damon quipped.
Rebekah choked and spit into the drink she was sipping on. When Klaus looked at her with betrayal stamped across his features, she said defensively, "Oh, come on, Nik, he might be a rat bastard, but that was funny."
"Rebekah, why don't you go keep an eye on Elena and let us boys talk," Klaus proposed, throwing an arm companionably across Damon's shoulders. "I'm sure Damon would not be pleased if his beautiful date were to turn up missing."
"Fine, Niklaus, I'll be your babysitter for now, but if you torture him again, I get to help."
"You have my word," he said smoothly, and Rebekah made her way onto the dance floor.
Klaus led Damon upstairs to the club's second level. The elder vampire selected a private booth which was already occupied. He kicked everyone out and directed Damon to sit across from him. Damon waited impatiently while the Original ordered bottle service from the drink girl: their finest scotch, a special reserve cask. Once that was handled and a full bottle of scotch sat on the table waiting to be drunk, Klaus leaned back against the red cushions and turned to him, crystal tumbler in hand. "Tell me, Damon, do you know why I'm here?"
"Because you're annoying?"
Chuckling indulgently, Klaus replied, "I want to make a deal."
"Shouldn't we be standing at a crossroads when you ask me that?" He knew he should probably dial down the snark, but, well, where was the fun in that?
"You know, I was hoping we could go about this in a friendly manner, but if you'd prefer the hard way, by all means…" Klaus spread his arms and shrugged.
Damon smirked. "Yeah, the hard way didn't work out like you planned, did it?"
Klaus shook his head slowly as if trying to reason with a small child. "Do you honestly believe that I didn't know exactly what you would do once I sent you after Elena?" Klaus's eyes glowed like twin evil flames. "Do you really think I misspoke when I compelled you?"
"You knew we'd go after Katherine; you were counting on it," Damon said bitterly. "You never even needed Elena's blood."
"What I needed was for you to locate Katherine. Just put the idea in your head and let you two have at it. Minions and all that," the ancient Original said, reminding Damon of his role as a pawn. He ground his teeth until his jaw ached. The reckless and impulsive side of him wanted to jump up and flip the table at Klaus – preserving in the process the expensive scotch of course – and then follow that up with a chair to the head. He hated feeling like a pawn. First, Katherine had made him a pawn in her game with his brother, and now Klaus was doing the same thing in his game to find Katherine. He made a mental note to start avoiding people whose names began with K.
Damon forced his expression to remain neutral and barely managed to convince himself that giving into his impulse to smash and cause chaos would be a bad idea. "Gee, that sounds like a plan predicated on a lot of what-ifs and maybes. Awfully risky, don't you think."
Klaus leaned back and arched his eyebrows. "Tell me where I went wrong. I know I've said it before, but you're so incredibly predictable."
"You are one convoluted bastard. I bet there never was a witch, either."
"Of course there was a witch. She just lacked the spell, which frankly I wasn't even sure existed, but Miss Bennett found a way to make it happen."
"I don't suppose it ever occurred to you to just ask Bon-Bon yourself."
Klaus laughed, and the sound of it was sharp. "Let's just say the witch and I have a complicated relationship. She'd never willingly help me. Besides, does it really matter? We both win in the end. You have Elena – and if we're being honest we both know this is probably the only chance you'll get with her - and soon I'll have Katherine and the cure. Oh, and I got to slice you repeatedly with knives. I fail to see a downside."
The raven-haired Salvatore curled his lip and the corners of his eyes tightened. "I don't like you."
Klaus grinned in delight, displaying even white teeth. "I bet you and Elena imagined yourselves so clever, outwitting me and all. Know this, Damon, I am always one step ahead."
As Damon pondered how he'd been played, he took a moment to look out over the sea of people dancing, laughing, and drinking below them. They had no idea that a group of supernatural serial killers disguised in the bodies of young adults moved amongst them.
His keen eyes spotted Elena and Rebekah taking turns feeding from a young man on the dance floor. The shadowy atmosphere and the fact that almost everyone was drunk or high allowed their sinister actions to go unregistered by those nearby. It was nice to see those two crazy girls getting along. Good for them.
"So what's your brilliant plan?" Damon inquired, tensing like a soldier who knew the deathblow was imminent.
"You'll subdue and deliver Katerina to me, and as a gesture of goodwill, I'll allow you to keep Elena."
He snorted and shot his adversary a look of complete disbelief. "Oh, yeah, cause that's easy. I remember how much luck you had corralling that pony."
Klaus looked down into his drink and smirked. "You'll probably recall that delightful little spell you lot used against me, you know the one where you stopped my heart so I'd desiccate."
Damon allowed a smile to creep across his face and asked innocently, "Oh, you mean that time we beat you?"
"Did you, Damon? It's true, inhabiting Tyler Lockwood's body was not my finest hour. But as I recall, there were some perks, one being that Caroline was quite partial to that adolescent prison."
Damon waved his hand between them in a warding motion. "Okay, you know what, enough. Now I need to sandpaper my brain. Is there a point or are you just intent on destroying my buzz? If that's the case, congratulations, you've succeeded." He was done with this conversation; he wanted it finished. The sight of Elena now grinding with abandon against some poor sap was putting him in mind of other much more pleasurable pursuits.
"I've asked your brother many times whether you're really as mentally deficient as you seem; I honestly can't tell." Klaus leaned over and shoulder bumped Damon, all chummy like they were friends. Damon indulged in the brief fantasy of cutting out Klaus's internal organs one by one and forcing the bastard to eat them until he choked.
Klaus continued on, oblivious. "I'm going to use the desiccation spell on Katerina, and you're going to help me." He gestured to a lovely young woman standing maybe fifteen feet away who waved and raised her martini glass to him. "I already have my witch. Now if only I had a fool willing and able to get close enough to Katerina so the spell could be employed." He smiled sidelong at Damon, whispering, "It'll save us both some time if you just go ahead and volunteer."
"Again, I'm left wondering why me?" His back straightened and he leaned across the table to grab the liquor bottle and top up his drink.
"Rebekah and I won't be able to get close without spooking her." Klaus gestured for Damon to fill him up as well. Damon ignored him and set the bottle down. Hybrid freak could pour his own damn alcohol.
"Ah, right, complicated relationship," Damon murmured, swirling his scotch in his cut-crystal glass. He sipped it appreciatively, but he still wished it was bourbon. Another strike against the Original. "What makes you think I'll have any better success?"
"Because you Salvatores are like kryptonite to Petrova doppelgangers." Klaus's smile was harsh and ironic.
"Wow, impressive pop cultural reference, Klaus. But you seem to have forgotten that Katherine prefers my brother." Damon's flat tone betrayed nothing. Certainly not resentment.
"I possess something she'd very much like to have back. You'll use it against her, and it will allow you to overwhelm her enough that you'll be able to get near her and lay your hands on her."
The dark Salvatore raised dark eyebrows. "Wanna be less cryptic?"
"All in due time. For now, you'll just have to trust me."
"Is that supposed to be a joke?"
Klaus asked impatiently, "Do we have a deal or not?"
Damon leaned closer, perching his elbows on the edge of the thick wooden table in order to better study the Original's face. It chaffed big time that he had to play ball with Klaus when what he really wanted to do was snatch Elena and take her far away from here. They could spend a few centuries getting high on blood and sadism, hunting together, bloodletting endlessly, fucking themselves into a stupor…. He would make sure she never missed the loss of her humanity, and he could avoid the trauma of being passed over for his brother yet again. "Say your brilliant plan works. Then what? I just hand Katherine over to you?"
Klaus quirked his lips and regarded him with bemusement. "Hmm, I must say, you surprise me. I believed you had truly settled on Elena. But if it's Katerina's allure that still beckons-"
Damon cut him off abruptly. "I don't have feelings for Katherine. I don't have feelings for anything, remember?" His eyes flared hostilely, and he took a pointed swig of his drink. It wasn't that he disliked being this way: emotionless, conscience-free, unaffected by all the downsides of humanity. It simply grated that Klaus had forced it on him, removing in essence his free will. And it grated even more that he enjoyed the outcome of Klaus's high-handedness. Now he could be with Elena and not give a lick for the consequences. He didn't have to worry how his brother felt; he didn't have to worry how Elena felt; hell, he didn't have to worry how he felt. But it didn't lessen his animosity toward the bastard one iota. He suddenly understood much more profoundly Stefan's previous suicidal crusade to destroy Klaus for the sin of depriving him of his free will.
"Ah, yes, quite," Klaus concurred. "So you'll do this for me, and don't worry about Katerina. I'll see to it that she receives the best of care." His smile was sinister. "And in return, I'll leave you and Elena alone forever. You have my word." He gave an imperious wave of his hand. Probably trying to look magnanimous, but he just looked like an asshole.
Damon took a long moment to think, and Klaus's face grew ever more sullen and baleful by the second. The difficulty was he didn't have a better plan. In fact, he had no plan. Locating Katherine was one thing; getting what he needed out of her was something else entirely. That didn't mean he had to be pleased about this continued association with Klaus. In that moment, he resolved that he'd play nice for now, but at the first opportunity, he'd find a way to fuck Klaus over. No way was the bastard going to get everything he wanted.
Finally, cautiously, he said, "If you agree that Elena and I never have to look over our shoulders for you, and I never have to listen to you talk ever again, then I'll do it. But there's still the teensy problem of actually locating her."
Rebekah suddenly slid into the booth next to Klaus. "Alright, time's up. I'm done looking after Elena. Your girlfriend's mean," she said with a pouty look at Damon.
His eyes shot up to scan for Elena. She was standing close by, hanging back, having followed Rebekah but obviously leery of getting too close to Klaus.
Klaus opened his mouth to respond to Rebekah when Elena asked, "Uh, why is Katherine on TV?"
All three vampires in the booth instantly riveted their gazes to the multiple screens above the second-level bar. One showed a horse race, one a basketball game, and the last was airing some ET show about the young, rich, and up-and-coming in Atlanta.
A tall, Channing Tatum-type blonde man was walking down the red carpet, laughing and joking as paparazzi shoved mics in his face. And there, doing her best to go unnoticed, was Katherine Pierce, bouncing curls, smoky eyes, and all. She hung onto his arm like delicious eye candy and made a good go at turning her head away and trying not to be recognized. But Damon would know that body, that walk, that tilt of her head anywhere. And he suspected the same was true of Klaus.
As if he had heard his thoughts, Klaus smirked and clinked his glass against a stunned Damon's. "Oh, I bet she turns up sooner than you think."
Damon pinched the bridge of his nose, then shoved his fingers through the mass of ebony locks curling along his temples. Scowling, he glanced at his phone for what felt like the millionth time in the last ten minutes. He was seriously just sitting around waiting for Klaus to call or text him, like some fucking errand boy.
Granted, he was waiting in the nicest suite of the fanciest hotel in downtown Atlanta, and earlier in the day he and Elena had christened every surface of the suite with their straining, glistening bodies so thoroughly that they broke quite a few – the hotel would have to invest in a new desk and some curtain rods would need to be replaced -so it could definitely be worse. But not much, he thought darkly. Being forced to abide by Klaus's schedule definitely ranked as a downer. Klaus's stupid witch needed to hurry up and locate Katherine's newest rich boy toy.
He threw the phone down beside him on the bed and readjusted the pillow behind his head and recrossed his ankles the opposite way, not even caring that his boots were lying on a goose-down duvet that probably cost enough to give most people sticker shock. He snuck a glance at his phone again, willing the screen to start glowing with the arrival of an incoming call or text. Nope, still nothing.
God, he couldn't wait until this was over and he could take Elena far away from this annoying thing that had become his life and they could live it up the way two attractive immortal creatures were meant to.
The shower running in the bathroom abruptly cut off and a few moments later, Elena emerged in a cloud of steam. There was a towel wrapped around her torso, and her long brown hair clung together in wet bunchy curls down her back and across her collar bone.
Damon watched her saunter over to her side of the bed through slitted eyes. Hmm, he could probably come up with something to take his mind off this frustration with Klaus.
She began to sort through several plastic bags, the fruits of their illicit shopping trip, and he idly studied a single drop of water that slid from behind her ear, then down the elegant column of her throat, and over the boney ledge of her collar bone before finally descending between the inviting swell of her pert breasts where it disappeared under her towel. Lucky droplet, he mused.
Elena eventually settled on an outfit and removed it from the rustling bags, but something else had already caught his eye. He flipped onto his stomach and slithered towards her, pulling himself along on his elbows. "Hold up, time out," he demanded, snagging a bright blue and white cloth and dangling it towards her on one finger. "What is this?" he asked mischievously.
"Gee, Damon, I thought you of all people would recognize a cheerleading uniform."
"Oh, I recognize it. My question is why do you have one?"
"Well, I didn't know if we would need disguises," she commented airily. "You know, in case our mission to catch Katherine requires us to go undercover."
"Uh-huh," he said in a disbelieving tone. "I think the point of a disguise is to deflect attention, not guarantee that every single guy with his eyesight intact is salivating over you."
Elena shrugged playfully. "Or, you know, whatever. Maybe we could use it for some kinky sex games." Smiling slyly, she turned and headed back to the bathroom.
Damon's face went slack and his lips parted as he watched her walk away. Yes, that was what he wanted. Sexy Elena in a sexy cheerleading outfit. Right now.
Damon zipped in front of her, bringing her to an unexpected halt. "Naughty girl," he rumbled in a deep voice, yanking the outfit she'd chosen out of her hands and throwing it behind him. Where it ended up he couldn't have cared less. "This is what you're wearing," he ordered huskily, pressing the tiny garment into her now empty hands.
"Oh, yeah?" she responded archly. "I'm not sired to you anymore. I don't have to do what you tell me."
Mental eye roll. Oh, goody, she'd figured it out. "Is that a challenge?"
"Aren't we supposed to be waiting for Klaus to contact us?"
"You won't be wearing it long. Put. It. On." His tone was velvet steel, warm and deep but unbending, brooking no argument. With a smoldering look, she slipped past him and disappeared, bathroom door closing gently behind her.
He removed his shirt and resumed his horizontal arrangement on the bed and waited eagerly, already semi-hard in anticipation.
"Hey, Damon?" Her voice filtered through the door.
"Yes?"
"Underwear or no?"
Okay, now he was rigid like iron, instantly aching. "No underwear," he growled in answer.
Seconds later, Elena reemerged, sashaying her exquisite hips, wearing only the slimmest blue top tied across her bosom and a skirt that didn't even completely cover her sweet curvy ass. She'd even tied her damp hair into a pony tail, he noted, appreciating how it really pulled the outfit together.
"You like?" she asked him impishly, eyes glittering brightly like stars.
"Go, team, rah," he murmured encouragingly. If anyone had ever been designed to fill out a cheerleading uniform, it was Elena Gilbert.
"So," she continued in a low voice, "how do you want me?"
On your knees in front of me, my dick so far down your throat you gag. Bent over this bed, ass in the air, cheeks stinging red with my handprints. On your back, legs wrapped around my waist as I pound into you and sink my teeth into your flesh. Begging me not to stop; panting for more. As those different scenarios flickered through his mind, his eyes grew heavy-lidded and the corners of his mouth curled upwards wickedly. "Surprise me."
With a 'cat that just ate the canary' look, she moseyed toward him until she stood at the edge of the bed. Stretching her arms straight overhead, she leaned first to the right, then over to the left, captivating him with an expanse of smooth tan stomach. She lowered her arms and clasped her hands behind her back, arching her back so that her breasts jutted forward, straining her small top.
Damon found himself sitting up. Mmm, mmm, MMM. Really was amazing how she seemed to know just the right way to look at him, just the right way to move and walk to turn his insides into a quivering pile of lust. For so long he'd had to deny himself. It felt so damn good to want and to know that he could take.
Elena continued her stretching routine, placing one long, graceful leg on the bed. He watched as she slid a hand up her sculpted calf until she could grab her toes. She lifted the leg up, up, up until it was parallel with her torso, simultaneously demonstrating amazing flexibility and an eyeful of the part of Elena that wasn't wearing any underwear.
Fisting his hands in the duvet, he ground his teeth. This little minx drove him completely wild.
She relinquished her hold on her toes and her foot floated with control back to the floor. Running her fingers along the outline of her top, she bit her full bottom lip and looked at him through silky lashes. She began to pull one side of the knot holding her top together, inch by unbearable inch.
Distantly, it registered that his phone was vibrating. Klaus could definitely wait. He shoved the cell phone under a pillow to muffle any further communications. He did not want Elena to get distracted.
"Off," he commanded, impatient and no longer willing to wait.
She obliged him, her top fluttering to the ground, and he was left with the glorious vision of Elena's bare breasts, high and full, dusky pink tips puckering temptingly under his hooded gaze.
"Come here," he instructed in the same authoritative manner.
She obeyed instantly, and he could tell that she was enjoying their game. Crawling up the bed towards him, she straddled him, soft inner thighs pressing against his rougher, material-clad ones, and rested her hands lightly on his shoulders. Her clean, delicious scent enveloping him, he gave her a scorching look full of promise before pressing his lips first to one divine breast and then the other. His fingers slid up her thighs from behind, finding their way under her skirt and to that place of hers that was so sweet and wet. So hot.
She moaned and closed her eyes, shivering. He watched goose bumps race their way across her arms.
For a moment, he debated whether he wanted to screw her with the little skirt on or off. On the one hand, it'd be totally hot to take her while she was still wearing it. On the other, naked Elena was perfection and didn't require any improvement. His hand stilled and he repeated, "Off."
She made a sound of protest deep in her throat, but he leaned away, giving her no choice but to do as he said.
In the blink of an eye, she'd shimmied out of her tiny skirt and it met the fate of her previously discarded top. Elena Gilbert now hovered over him, completely, magnificently nude. With pupils dilated in arousal, she gripped the hand he'd just used to explore her thoroughly and brought it to her face. She sucked his finger into her mouth, wet, pink lips like a suction cup, and circled it with her talented little tongue. Desire slammed into him and a predator's impulses surged – savage, feral, he would take her now.
He didn't give her any warning, just flipped her beneath him, face down into the bedspread. He ground his hips against that perky ass and rained kisses along her shoulder blades.
She writhed approvingly, thrilled and excited by his forcefulness, and squealed, "Damon!"
His tongue laved the small valleys along her spine and his broad hands cupped her hips, lifting her lower body up off the bed. He used his knees to urge her thighs apart and he sat up, hands on his fly, preparing to get rid of any barriers between him and Elena.
His focus on her was so complete, he was completely dumbfounded when she vanished, yanked from sight. He heard her squeal again, only this time is was not a sexy squeal, but rather a pained, infuriated squeal. Looking up, he saw Rebekah binding Elena's hands with vervain ropes on the other side of the bed.
"Seriously?" he snapped. "What the fuck are you doing?" He went straight from zero to homicidal rage. Cock blocking bitch again! He wished he'd never even heard of a Mikaelson.
The look she shot him was withering. "Sorry, am I interrupting something?"
"I told you that I would let you know when it was a good time." He spat the words at her like bullets.
Rebekah gave the knots she was tying together a vicious yank. "You are aware I can hear you, right? You're insane if you think I'm going to stand in the hallway and listen to you two pant like mangy curs in heat."
"Damon, help me!" Elena twisted frantically in a bid to escape her bonds, but the Original was now attending to her ankles, and he could hear as her flesh sizzled at the touch of vervain.
He closed his eyes and scrubbed his face with one hand, seeking a modicum of composure. "Sorry, babe, this was the plan all along; someone was just supposed to wait until I said so."
"Nik texted you that he was ready to proceed. Didn't you check your phone?" Rebekah asked.
He resentfully retrieved his phone from under the pillow and looked at it. "He's already waited a thousand years, Rebekah. He couldn't wait another fifteen minutes?"
"I think that's a bit overly generous, don't you?" The pretty girl smiled, baring sharp fangs.
Still struggling to resist her bonds, Elena wailed, "Damon, you promised that we were doing this together! You have to take me with you!"
"Nope, this mission, I'm flying solo." Elena was too much of an unknown, a loose cannon, an undefined variable to risk taking along. He was going to succeed on the first try, one and done. He believed he'd have far better success if Elena wasn't tagging along, interfering with and antagonizing his prey. Klaus obviously agreed that she shouldn't take part in Katherine's capture for insurance purposes. Why risk both of the only vampires who could ensure the creation of his hybrid army just in case something backfired? Rebekah, well…she had some sort of arrangement with her brother and had agreed to keep watch over Elena. He'd just thought that she'd wait for his signal. Like after he'd had his temporary fill of Elena's hot little body and she was asleep. Sigh. Whatever, he'd manage with the hand he'd been dealt. This way he could deliver Katherine and the cure to Klaus and then come back, scoop up Elena, and carry her off into a bloody, hedonistic sunset. The stuff fucking fairy tales were made of.
He stood and shrugged into his shirt, striding toward the door. "Put a sheet on her or something."
"Mhmm," Rebekah agreed absently. "I'll take it into consideration."
"No, Damon, Katherine is mine! Don't leave me like this!" When he failed to turn around or react in the slightest, she appealed to Rebekah. "You're seriously just going to let him do this?"
The blonde girl's lips pursed. "Sometimes you have to crack a few eggs to catch a doppelganger."
Damon slowed his momentum and twisted in the doorway to say, "Skulls."
"What?"
"Wouldn't your metaphor make more sense if you said skulls instead of eggs?" His eyes twinkled, knowing he was pointlessly needling Rebekah, but he couldn't help it. The girl was definitely on top of his current shit list.
She drew herself off the bed where Elena lay squirming futilely and sneered, "Funny, I don't remember asking for your opinion."
As he shrugged nonchalantly, Elena managed to draw her knees to her chest and roll over so that she was on all fours. He couldn't help but admire the way her trussed arms squished her breasts together delightfully. She raged at him, "If you do this, Damon, there is no version of me that will ever forgive you."
Rebekah rolled her eyes. "Oh, bloody hell, shut up." She reached out and casually snapped the enraged girl's neck. Elena's ponytail whipped around and she collapsed on the bed like a puppet whose strings had just been cut. The Original said to her prone form, "Don't get your panties in a twist, lamb. It's not like you're the only one he's manipulated and betrayed with sex before."
Hand on the door frame, he looked back and winked. "Huh, yeah, I guess that's kinda my thing." Well, he had learned from the best, and now it was time for a reckoning with that same manipulative, deceitful bitch. With a cocky grin, he departed. Show time, little miss Katherine.