STEFAN's POV

I've spent the last hour or so laying on the couch replaying the previous six years of my life; opening every wound and examining it - every time I believed I had Elena, every time I lost her. Each and every kiss and touch, every argument and every tear. Watching Elena's face give no reaction to Caroline's explanation, hearing her voice without emotion talking about the things that have nearly destroyed me – I'm enraged that the universe has chosen this as it's punishment for me.

Seeing her now, half-naked and looking at me with her clear, sharp, endless eyes, I can't deny that I'm angry or that I want her. I know I'm an open book here; mentally worn out, emotionally uncovered, barely clothed. We shouldn't be in this moment – not like this - I'm a stranger and she's unreachable and cold to all the memories that bind us together.

I know I'm setting myself up for failure – for a deep and painful rejection. I can only recall a handful of times where Elena took on the role of the aggressor in our relationship before all of this mess we're in now – she doesn't remember me, she feels as though she barely knows me - there is no way this Elena will counter my come on. I guess I'm tired of being on the giving end here. She hasn't done anything to hurt me intentionally, but it's been a gutting to try and be plutonic – just be friends. I love Elena like lungs love oxygen and the Earth loves the sun – asking me to ignore my love for her is the same as letting me slowly bleed out on the floor. If we have to die, I'd rather it be quick.

Honestly, I'll be surprised if she lets on that she comprehended the double meaning to my words, at all – Are you going to bed?

It could be an honest question, it's late and we have to work and tonight has been pretty revealing with Caroline's overzealous mouth. I'm sure Elena is going to trot right back into my extra bedroom and climb into my bed, lay in my sheets, wearing my shirt, and toss and turn and regret walking away from me. That sounds egotistical, I know, but I'm not being arrogant in the slightest – I know this woman. From the way her chocolate eyes keep moving down to my mouth, steeling a glance at my chest and stomach. The slight parting of her lips as she considers my words. I am a stranger in her eyes, but I can hear her desire in her shaky breath and speeding heartbeat.

It'll be for the best when she does turn and leave me to sleep on the couch – I'm far too hostile tonight. I haven't hunted all day and I'm starving for blood and ravenous with the thought of being inside of her – of hearing her moan my name in that voice of hers.

Are you going to bed? I should be ashamed of myself for the thoughts and images playing through my mind – her flesh in my hands and my mouth between her thighs. Taking out my pent up aggression with a punishing rhythm that would leave my body sore and Elena's throat raw and hoarse from loudly urging me on. The flush of her cheeks makes me wonder if my gaze may be too intense – but I don't care. I want her. She is my wife and I'm growing tired of the agony and the despair and the continuous ripping and shredding of our love and for just one damn night I want to be her husband.

When Elena takes a step, pivoting, moving away from me, I feel that sweet anger inside of me swell. Her hands pull as the hem of the shirt she is wearing, trying to make it longer, and I shamelessly look down at her bare thighs, unintentionally lick my bottom lip into my mouth and press my teeth into it.

I knew she was going to go back to bed; I had not a single doubt in my mind as Elena doesn't love me and she's not that kind of girl – excluding her actions after the gala, of course. That night was the exception – she was drunk and coming off of some kind of pill addiction and lust is a very hard emotion to fight when you're already unstable from such things. I'm not surprised at all, but it still hurts me. I can tell myself a thousand times that Elena will remember, that she'll love me again, that we're going to make it through this, but the truth is I'm beginning to lose faith.

That familiar ache in my gums is taunting me. I'm not mad at Elena – how could I be? This isn't her fault. I'm just mad. I'm hungry in every sense of the word! I'm hungry for blood, I'm hungry for her, I'm starving to feel loved and worthy, to feel safe in her arms again!

I hang my head, inspect the floor. My neck is tense and needs popped, the muscles of my chest and back and legs are flexed in preparation – my body is steeling itself the best it can to the words that I am about to hear when she inhales to speak. "I'm going to bed."

It didn't matter that I knew what was coming or that I'd been able to prepare - Four small, quietly spoken words and I'm crushed.

Elena's fingers touch the sensitive skin just above my inner wrist, moving down and taking my hand in hers in some friendly way of apologizing – I can't look at her as my eyes are burning with the threat of tears. Even in this state of rejection the gravity that I feel for her is extreme and her gentle touch makes the muscles of my forearm ache from the teasing sensation.

Louder this time, she repeats her words, another verbal whipping, "I'm going to bed." I look at her small hand encasing mine, resting on my thigh – her skin is glowing and reminds me of the sheen of candlelight on glass. I feel hopeless… I love her to the point that I cherish the skin on her hands. "Come with me."

It takes a few seconds for me to believe that I heard right. Looking up at her with my brow low and knitted together, Elena's face is confident, subtly pleased – that sharpness in her eyes that I love so much. We don't speak, just gaze at one another for a long moment. It hits me like a clap of thunder that Elena is not the same girl I fell in love with when she was seventeen. She's a matured, adult woman with the most beautiful face I've ever laid eyes on and a deep curve to her waist that makes me dizzy with longing. The Elena from my memories would have left me here, maybe given me a doe-eyed glance as she turned the corner, but I would have spent the night on the couch. Elena has lived and grown and experienced life – developed from that somewhat shy girl to a sexy, assured woman that I've spent the last week getting to know and, if it's even possible, I've fallen for her all over again.

ELENA's POV

I let go of his hand when we entered the extra bedroom and for some reason I've turned away from him- I guess I'm nervous, or anxious… I'm not totally sure why my heart is racing like this. Closing the door as quietly as I can as if I'm sneaking a boy into my bedroom, I feel the click of the latch silently move into place. My hand guides the knob back to its neutral position and I close my eyes, take a deep breath in through my nose. The space between us suddenly has that charged, simmering feel to it like right before a cloudy summer sky breaks into a lighting storm – my skin is buzzing in response. I feel light-headed and giddy – so proud of myself for actually listening to what I want and not letting the voices in my head – Bonnie, Matt, & Jeremy – tell me what to do.

I am not broken.

Turning in place, I have to rest my weight against the door behind me when I catch sight of Stefan standing motionless in the darkness and my legs nearly fail me – he's breathtaking, artistically beautiful.

Backlit by the city sky seeping in through the white sheers, Stefan Salvatore is truly a Greek God; his tense, barely clothed body a glowing silhouette. I can't see the features of his face, but can feel his eyes on me as I look him over. I want to run my fingers through his unruly hair, graze my lips across the slight dips of his carved shoulders and arms. My legs are tingling with anticipation of wrapping themselves around his taut, v-shaped frame. Even the wide curve of his athletic calves into his slender ankles is inviting.

As my eyes trace the blackened shape of his body, it's in that moment that I decide that I'm going to do what I've wanted to do since I met him so many years ago. I was timid and inexperienced, and Stefan was more than I had even imagined a man could ever be – always in control, with a slight sense of danger, never less than perfect in the way he held me and kissed me.

I want to explore him.

I want to seduce him.

I want to touch him, taste him - learn every inch of his body.

I want to see him enjoying me.

Rallying my confidence, I extend my arm along the wall, blindly feeling the coarse sheetrock with my oversensitive fingers until I find the switch and turn on the light. My eyes are already looking at Stefan's face, but it takes him a moment to adjust to the warm glow of light from the bedside lamps – blinking a few times with his brow furrowed and lips pursed before returning my stare. He's confused, thrown off – good. It's nice to be on the other side of this game, to be in control.

"You can sit." I offer. Stefan looks almost angry and I recall how he seemed to be frustrated with Caroline and our topic of conversation.

Without pause, Stefan responds in a low tone, "I'll stand." He is angry.

I smile - I like that I have such an effect on him… the sense of power it gives me was one of the earliest reasons as to why I didn't run away from Stefan when I learned that he was a vampire.

"Thank you for the car." I stand straight; let my legs hold my weight now that I'm feeling like the one in control. "It was unnecessary, but very sweet of you to worry about me." I take a step towards him and his unforgiving stare seems to soften. "You don't have to take care of me, Stefan."

I reach out and take both of his hands in mine – he must feel it too, the charge between us flaring, because he looks at our hands and I see his chest expand from his inhale. With his head still looking down, his eyes meet mine and whatever anger he'd been feeling has disappeared. There is a burn in Stefan's gaze that makes my mouth dry and my breath shallow.

Leaning towards me, my lips begin to as I watch his mouth coming closer to mine. It's such a sweet whisper, "I like to take care of you, Elena", his soft voice wraps all around me.

I let him kiss me - my legs feel weak and my chest squeezes my lungs and the thoughts in my brain come to a halt as he pulls away. Just a simple, soft, tender touch of his lips against mine and I'm intoxicated.

When he presses his lips against mine for a second time and I feel all of my strength seeping from my muscles with each tentative kiss I know that I have to stop him. If I'm going to live out my fantasy of exploring Stefan Salvatore I've got to keep my wits about me.

"Wait." I turn my face away abruptly, release his hands.

Stefan is not a man of many words – he has this face and these eyes and this beautifully sculpted mouth that speaks volumes in silence. I can see he's confused and aggravated, unsure why I'm stopping him. Afraid it's a replay of what happened after the gala. Quickly looking away when our eyes meet, he backs away from me, moving towards the door - I know I have to explain no matter how wanton my words will sound. "I don't want you to touch me."

Oh his glare cuts me – my explanation did not come out the way I'd hoped and now he's looking at me like I've damaged him, raised eyebrows, parted lips, and a wrinkled brow. Again, I smile – I know it sounds cruel but Stefan is just so beautiful and I don't know if I've ever seen him look scorned before.

I move quickly and stand in the way of the door. Taking his hands again, I try to explain once more as I suppress a laugh. "No, I mean, I don't want you to touch me, because I want to touch you."

Registering my proposal, his green eyes turn to molten fire. I feel myself morph into someone sexier - darker -as I place his hands at his sides and return his wicked gaze. I've waited six years and in this very moment, the anticipation is killing me.

STEFAN's POV

"I can't think with your hands on me, Stefan"

My brain is in overdrive while my body is rigid. As much as I adore my sweet Elena and her virtuous ways, the seductress standing before me has stolen me for the moment. It's been many years since I've felt apprehensive, unsettled by a woman's invitation – probably 1864. The way I feel right now, with Elena looking up at me with those glittering endless eyes and reddened lips, asking me to keep my hands from her, it's more than I can stand.

My eyes are caught by her full lips curving into words, "It's not fair, what you do to me."

I clench my jaw in a way to fight off the magnetism that instantly raises my hands the moment she releases them. When she smiles at my weakness for her, it just makes it worse. I can't remember ever wanting her so badly, ever loving her as much.

"Okay," Her voice is quiet and playful as she takes my right hand with both of hers – one holding my wrist lightly and the fingers of her right hand keeping my fist from closing as a way to protect my ring – I may be a stranger to her in most ways, but she somehow knows that it would be an automatic reaction. "We'll start with your hands then."

For a moment I'm confused – I honestly have no idea what she'd want to look at my hand for – I follow her gaze, she's looking at my fingers the way I look at her… when her soft, moist lips touch just below my ring my breath catches in my chest. I think my heart catches fire when she looks at my face, silently asking permission to continue, and I see the girl I've been searching for since I lost her in Rome. This woman, the look in her eyes, she'll either save me or break me… I love her.

I think I nod, I don't know, I'm lost and focused and incredibly distracted. Elena's got this wicked smile on her face that is the complete opposite of my clenched jaw, teeth grinding, intense stare that I'm sure I'm giving her.

Turning my hand over, she runs her fingertips lightly from my wrist, gently scratching at the palm of my hand and up my middle finger. For the first time in as long as I can remember my fingers tremble. She kisses the pad of my middle finger, cuts her eyes to mine, then slowly guides the tip of my finger into her mouth. All I can feel is warmth and wetness, a gentle sucking, and I have to close my eyes to keep from breaching her no touching rule.

It's too much, the tormenting sensation – I exhale with a nearly silent groan when her lips release my finger just as I feel the blood begin to rush to my eyes. I get a moments rest – a very short repose from my body's near breaking point - before Elena starts again. She kisses my knuckles, my wrist, gives a soft licking-sucking mixture at the base of my bicep – her mouth moving painfully slow up my arm while her hand rests softly on top of my pounding heart.

Kissing my shoulder, then my collar bone, I lean into the touch of her hand on my face, closing my eyes – overheating from the warmth of her mouth against my neck. I don't mean to, or maybe I do, I can't be sure, but my arm – the one she's just electrified with her teasing kisses – wraps around her, my hand splaying on her back and pressing her body against mine. Immediately, Elena stops the amazing sucking just below my jawline. I feel her lashes flutter and her lips move on my skin as she says, "Don't."

Honestly, I don't know if I cannot touch her right now.

I swallow hard, pop my neck and decide that I'd rather die trying to experience this than stop her from doing what she's doing to me. I nod again just as her fingers intertwine with my buzzing right hand.

Harder now, Elena starts again – I feel her teeth pull at my skin and it's so overwhelmingly maddening that I release a low growl. My free arm starts to move to her – all I want right now is to pin her against the door, let my body expend it's bridled pressure and consume every bit of Elena – but I'm somehow able to control it just enough that I end up bracing myself against the door, my fingers digging into the wooden frame.

The fire in my body that her fingers leave as she moves them down my chest, sporadically kissing and licking, its burning through me – my stomach is clenched so tightly I can barely breath as I watch that beautiful face of hers. When her fingertips move across my navel, slowly sweep across the band of my underwear, she looks up at me – a playful gaze and parted lips. Elena's eyes are full of this wicked innocence that I can't resist and I move to kiss her, I just want to taste her, but she slips away – her touch moving from the lowest low of my torso to my back.

Now with both hands against the door frame, my arms are holding nearly all of my weight when she begins her assault of kisses across my shoulder blades. Again, the blood creeps into the veins around my eyes and I feel my gums ache.

"Elena, stop." I'm out of breath and even I'm not convinced by my words. I don't want to hurt her, I just want her. In any and every way possible. I want her. I lay my head back when I feel her hand slip into my hair. "Elena."

I'm about to beg her to stop, to let me touch her – I can't take another second of this, but her touch is gone and I'm cold without her and my body is aching and stiff.

I have to take a couple of deep breaths; pushing oxygen into my muscles and clearing my eyes before I can turn to her. Elena has backed away from me, standing by the unmade bed and watching the effect she has on me with a pleased smile - that wicked innocence in her endless eyes. I love her.

I want to go to her. Honestly, I want to hold her down on that bed and give her some of that sweet torture she's just given me, but I'm scared to move. She's asked me not to touch her and I don't know what she'll allow me to do. We stand like that for what seems like an eternity while I fight the gravity that pulls me to her, always returns me to Elena.

My thoughts are confused with images of making love to Elena and memories of her hurting me – telling me she couldn't be with me because I was a vampire, before Klaus' ritual when she told me she didn't want to be a vampire, she didn't want to spend eternity with me… Damon… Damon and Elena, Elena and Damon. Damon. After the gala…

My voice, thick with emotion and raw, comes from my mouth before I can stop it – "I can't do this. I don't want to be a one-night thing for you, Elena." God how I wish I could… Elena means too much to me to cheapen everything we had with what would be a quick, meaningless fuck in her eyes.

Without hesitation, Elena responds with a gentle shake of her head, "That's not what I want, either."

I'm confused – I can't follow her anymore. She's so hard to predict. Trying to decipher what she said about us being friends and what I've just heard, what she's just done to me, I stand quietly and watch her move onto the bed – Elena's clear eyes never leaving mine. "What do you want from me?" I hate how tortured I sound, but I can't hide it – I'm coming undone.

She sits back on her calves, "I want you to come here, Stefan"

I swear she's got some kind of a spell on me – my legs move without my brain ever telling them to, closing the distance between us even as I continue to verbally protest. "Elena, please, I can't do this. I can't be just a friend to you." Thankfully, the mattress against the front of my thighs stops me.

Elena moves to her knees, comes to the edge of the bed – we're eye to eye. I can smell her; in my shirt, on my bed, after taking a shower in my soap, she smells like me and for some reason it makes me crave her even more.

The frequency between us is alive, effervescent, sparking – nearly igniting when her hands come to my shoulders and glide across my skin - her fingers slip into my hair, her soft, sweet lips leaving a slow kiss on my mouth. "Because you love me?"

I can't open my eyes for a moment, savoring that kiss – I don't know if I'll ever feel it again, I don't know where she's going with this. I nod, my voice barely audible "Because I love you."

When her hands leave my face, I open my eyes somewhat fearful that I'm going to find her in pain from hearing me say I love her, like after the gala, but Elena's eyes are still clear and sharp and so beautifully dark and endless. She gives a sweet, small smile. I want to touch her so badly, hold her face.

It's like the unveiling of the sunrise when Elena slowly peels my tee-shirt from her body – completely uncovered, she is supple and warm. No longer under my control, my eyes move from her thighs, up her body at a wonderfully slow pace, etching the curve of her hips and the soft glow of her skin into my mind. I have to bite into my bottom lip painfully hard when my mouth wants to taste her breasts and my palms begin to sting with the need to feel her. When my eyes find her face, everything increases tenfold – my pulse, the electricity flowing through my veins, the aching pressure in my body – Elena's face sets me on fire. "Then love me, Stefan."

ELENA's POV

I can't think, I can't breath – it's just all sensation and heat and his breathing and my whimpering. Stefan is amazing. He's breathtaking and overwhelming and all consuming. I've never been kissed like this – I've never been touched like this. This is what making love is supposed to be – a mindless and full utopia.

He's moving fast and hard – I keep thinking I need to quiet down; Caroline is a vampire and can surely hear this but I can't control my vocal chords, my brain has lost its power and I'm calling out his name and begging and pleading. My hands fisting in his hair and grasping at the skin on his back – there's no doubt, not a shadow of fear in my mind, this is what falling in love feels like.

I can't remember loving Stefan before, but I know I am head over heels, hopelessly in love with Stefan now.

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