IF YOU HAVE NOT READ "NO GOOD DEED" : these are outtakes which may make absolutely zero sense to you. I'm sorry. If you would like them to make sense, please to be going here:
www (dot) fanfiction (dot) net (slash) s (slash) 5987407 (slash) 1 (slash) No_Good_Deed
Disclaimer: No. No-no. No. No. No. Is that enough? I still don't own it. Get over it.
Yes. Stefan is like Damon here. Yes. This is deliberate. Yes. Fine.
He's evil. Well. No. He's just... ugh.
Enjoy your StefAbelle. It's a bit dark. And YES STEFAN IS ACTING LIKE DAMON. If you want an explanation, keep reading.
Italy, 1971
She was exactly his type, and that was precisely the damn problem. Her eyes were wide, brown, and staring, and she was petite and skinny and pretty and he was in love.
Just like that.
But that was Stefan all over. Rushing into things, starting things without bothering to consider the consequences. Considering all the women all over the world and finally deciding that, of all people, the young Ms. Annabelle Moretti, with the sister Juliet, was the woman for him.
At least for now.
He never did hang around; usually it was just long enough to learn their names, when he could even be bothered to do that, drink their blood and leave them with a mental block, a considerable chunk of memory that was dead, gone and never coming back. It was strange, as well, that their lower body would ache for a day or so afterward, but none of them understood.
Until Annabelle.
It had been at a small party, friends of friends gathered in one of Milan's up-and-coming restaurants. He had been at the next table. He had been interesting, and brooding, and had stared at her as though he was desperate to take her away, lock her up and slowly, carefully, as though they had days on end to seal the deal, devour her.
He was the hunter, and she was his prey. She had no chance of escape.
She allowed herself to become so, as well. It was easy for him to ingratiate himself because she was lonely, her sister having married, her mother sick and her father semi-absent, on business trips across the world.
She was twenty-one, bored and lonely, as only those with the right amount of money could be. He was nineteen, American, and exciting. She could not have asked for any more in the level of difference and excitement that he could bring.
Both of them wanted difference and excitement – so it was only natural that they ended up in the one place that they could control all of that. Between the sheets of the nearest hotel room. His angular jaw being bitten and kissed; her hips so slim that he could feel her bones beneath her skin. Just how he liked it.
He desired controlling a girl who had barely any control of herself. It was his drug of choice.
She had been... ill, before she had met him, barely surviving on meals which were unreal, unable to comprehend the sheer volume others would eat, but when they had come together, almost crashed two worlds into one, she had found a new addiction.
Him.
It didn't help that the first time they were together; he had quickly influenced her to believe he was the answer. That he could do no wrong. That she should... well. That was all the fun that he could have, and none of it for her.
She didn't notice the memory lapses, the twists in time where she didn't exist, and everybody else told her she was doing something, anything – kissing him in public, pulling him into a broom closet and having her way with him, putting on weight so that she looked healthy again.
Juliet Luch, nee Moretti was so thankful for Stefan Salvatore, because to her, it looked as though her sister had been brought back to life. Rescued.
.
.
"Anna-" Stefan lifted her hips up as he slipped into her, filling her, stretching her and making her feel complete as she gasped and felt her nails rake across his skin, "You're so... so tight-"
"Please," She whispered as he lowered his lips to hers, "Harder..." And he complied, their hands intertwined as he pounded into her at some kind of superhuman speed, and her head began to hurt.
"Are you alright?" He'd seen her squeeze her eyes tight shut, but did not begin to pull back, his hips still grinding into hers. She loved the feeling of him pressed into her, wetness and hardness and friction and ohgodrightthere.
"My head hurts." She whispered, "Can I drink?" He nodded and pressed his lips to his own wrist, unthinking, before offering her the blood on his skin. Eyes wide, she accepted, feeling the rejuvenation, and loving it.
Until he pulled her lips away and asked if she would return the favour. She had not noticed the clouded eyes, dilated pupils commanding her to obey him as the veins popped, protruded from his skull.
"Yes." At the squeak of her acquiescence, he lowered his lips to the pulse point on her neck and simply devoured her, razor sharp fangs breaking the skin and meaning that the perfection that was the taste of human blood went sliding down Stefan's throat and he had to drink her dry.
Bloodlust and lust and arousal and sex and heat and friction and god. He wanted to take her until she couldn't breathe.
"You taste-" But her eyes were closed and her breathing was shallow. "Annabelle?" He did not pull away from her, but forced his lips from her neck to bring his eyes to look at hers, "Anna, Anna, look at me!" He was actually worried about her. That had never happened before.
She would not stir, and the feelings of self-hatred and sheer regret pounded through him. He had not intended to kill her. He ran a hand down her cheek and gently offered a thrust of his hips.
The constant sensation of the past ten minutes, coupled with the high of Stefan's blood in her system and the sheer arousal of being bitten and sucked on, and combined with that final offer of friction, sent her spiralling into a climax Stefan was not even sure she could feel.
He could feel it, though, and it was... god. He needed to get out. All he could smell was blood, but he hadn't intended... he didn't mean for this to happen. He needed to drink again. He couldn't drink again.
He was desperate to destroy her, he could barely breathe and that was all he wanted. He wanted to bury himself into her again, her body angular against his as she screamed but did not fight, because he had told her not to.
But he couldn't.
Almost killing her had switched his humanity back on.
He had to leave.
.
A/N: Rant? Alright.
Review? Thanka you.
Next one will be up on Friday. I like this one.
