DAMON'S POV
I lie in my bed, wide awake, with my eyes glued to the ceiling. It must be at least three o'clock in the morning, and I can't force myself to sleep. Air is humid, I must have opened, then closed the window, for at least hundred of times, but I can't decide which is worse - having no air, or hot air stuffing my nostrils like smoke without scent. I've pushed the covers off my body, and sprawled myself across the bed.
I can't stop thinking about her soft lips. About their pink color and sugar flavor. I can't forget how the sugar on her lips glued mine on hers and I could not let go. I did not want to let go, because after all of the lips I've kissed, the ones that burned mine like acid, I finally tasted the ones I want to come back to. Ones I would not mind kissing over and over again, day after day, year after year, for an eternity.
I remember how it felt to kiss her. The image is perfectly instilled in my memory, her black, wavy hair in between my fingertips, the fingers of my other hand feeling up the skin of arm, going up and down, following the lines of it. My lips only scraped against hers at first, but then, when she did not pull back, they landed on hers fully. At first, it was weird and uncomfortable, because I have not felt that lusting, all consuming feeling in my chest I usually feel, but as I kept my lips pressed on hers, I felt electricity on my skin, and energy flowing inside of my body, warming me, lifting my spirits up. It felt like my heart was stuck inside of my throat, and she shivered under my touch, shivered so hard that at certain times I thought she will fall apart.
Before I even had a chance to put my arms around her and pull her closer to me, she started wiggling like a trapped animal, trying to separate her lips from mine. I had a feeling she's fighting herself, like a part of her wanted to continue kissing me, but the other part wanted to stop. She had put her hands on my chest and pushed me away, or pushed herself away from me, and in time I opened my eyes, she was already running towards the house. I wanted to follow her, every instinct told me to go after her, every fiber of my being was pushing me towards her, and even though my brain was shouting at me to run, my legs wouldn't move.
She's avoiding me, I'm sure of it, because I haven't seen her forever since. Elena mentioned how worried she's for her, because she doesn't come out of her room unless Elena calls for her. And she was genuinely worried, which makes me believe Bonnie hasn't mentioned anything to Elena.
As I remember my brother dancing with Elena, a smile creeps on my face. When I heard the question coming out of my brother's mouth, I was fairly surprised, not only because I did not think my brother has it in him, but because I thought there's not a thing in this world that could make him dance. Apparently, I was wrong.
I wish I had his courage. I know my brother views me as someone fearless, who doesn't have a care in the world, who does not think about the consequences, or doesn't care about them. It is easy to break the small rules, to run over things that don't matter, to put things that have no importance to you on fire. I'm an expert at breaking million little rules without flinching, but when it comes to the big things - I'm smaller than a poppy seed.
When something matters, I shiver under the intensity of it. And she matters, and as much as I don't care about myself, I care about her, and I don't want to see her get hurt.
My brother is loud about the stuff that matter. He was loud when everyone were attacking me, and he is loud now, when it comes to Elena. He may be scared of the million little things, but when the big thing comes, he steps in front of it like a giant, not letting its size scare him, because importance of it is too big to ignore.
I exhale loudly and close my eyes in hope, if I try hard enough, I will see her face.
STEFAN'S POV
It's usually not this hot during Spring. Days are warm, bright, sunny, enjoyable, and nights are refreshing. But tonight, the air is humid, stuffy, hard to inhale, and it's keeping my eyelids open. I threw all of the blankets off my bed because they're burning my skin. It must be close to morning, since I can see night disappearing, and light crawling into my room through half opened curtains on my window.
I decide to get up. I can feel the back of my pajama top is wet, and it's sticking to my skin, as well as to the sheets of the bed. I walk over to the window, because I hope, now when the dawn has come, air will become more pleasurable. I move the curtains to the side and stick my nose out of the window. I inhale deeply as I look down, and that is when I see her.
She has her dress in between her fingertips, high above the ground so she doesn't step on it, since she's walking really fast down the lane. Her hair is wavy and sprawled across her back, and she's walking straight forward, in a hurry, without taking a second to look back.
I wonder where she's going. I doubt she wants to be disturbed, and by the speed of her movements I doubt she wants to be seen either. But I have seen her, and I'm curious what she's up to in this hour. So in hurry I take of my pajamas and throw them on the bed, hoping Jenna won't come in to wake me up and find my room in such a mess. I put on a pair of pants and a simple button up shirt whose buttons I do not even button up to the end, and my every day shoes that feel uncomfortable on my bare feet but I have no time to put sucks on, or I'll lose the sight of Elena. My hair is probably a mess and my face is pale and tired, but I have no time to worry about that, and I hope no one will see me. On the tip of my toes I go down the stairs, and carefully, slowly and most importantly, silently, I open the front door and step on the porch.
I start running down the lane, and I can see Elena in a distance. By now, she's already walking across the lawn, but I still can't figure out where she's going, I only pray to God she doesn't notice I'm following her. I feel guilty for walking in her shadows, to follow her without her knowledge, especially if she doesn't want to be followed. Every ounce of morality my body holds is telling me this is a bad idea. That this is not the right thing to do.
Maybe I've been breaking the rules a little bit too much recently. If I do it so often, I will forget it's rule breaking, since it will become a normal thing for me. I will lose that feeling of doing something for myself because I will start doing something for myself all the time, and I don't want to become that selfish.
But for a moment, I have a feeling like I have no control over my body. Even after this realization, my legs keep moving, even when I want to stop them, they keep moving, faster and faster. Until it's too late to stop.
When I reach the clearing and when I'm only few steps behind her, I slow down because I do not want to catch up with her, I want to keep my distance, and I continue following her silently.
We walk for few minutes, her slowing down with every step she makes, she's probably tired. When we reach the quarry, which is when she lets go of her dress, and sighs. At least that's what it looks like from here. I hide behind a large bush so she doesn't notice me, in case she turns around to make sure no one was following her.
I stand there, patiently waiting for her next move. I wonder what she's going to do now. Maybe she's only enjoying the view, because behind the quarry, there is sun coming up, and it looks like it's coming out from the water. The reflection of the sun is in the water, and it painted it in red, orange and yellow colors, and at places it looks like the water is burning.
I wonder is there anything strong enough to burn the water, or does the water always put the fire out.
I refuse to believe she was hurrying only to see the sun come up, because the sun will remain in similar position to this for at least an hour more.
And then, she takes her hair and pushes it, over her shoulder, to the front of her body.
She puts one of her fingers under the short sleeve of her dress and pulls her arm out of the sleeve. I examine how skinny her arm is - if wind blew any harder, it would probably flaunt on it, like a flag. She does the same to her other arm, and when she takes her dress off her shoulders, is when I get a perfect view of them. Her skin is pale. It is not snow white, but she is not tanned like the other women around here. It looks like a soft, pink silk or like a cream Jenna makes after Sunday's lunch - when you see it a bowl, so perfectly served, you would rather sink your finger in it and lick the cream of it than eat it with a spoon.
Then, her dress starts falling more down her body, and when it stops, above her behind, I gasp. I move away from the bush, into the clearing, without thinking, so I can get a better look. Her waist is so small, but so perfectly shaped. She looks like she has been carved by God in intention to amaze everyone who have a pleasure to find themselves in her presence. Her back is what catches my attention, and a perfect, straight line in the middle of it, in between the bones of her back. It looks almost like a hollow, and I get a strange urge to follow it with the tip of my finger.
As I look at her, from safe distance, I feel something hard in my throat, so I swallow. All I want to do is go over there, place my lips on her neck, her shoulders, and examine her back with my fingers.
She puts her fingers inside of her dress and pushes it down her legs, and when I realize she's completely naked under it, I gasp.
I've never seen a naked woman, except in some art father had years ago. And whoever painted those pictures, npw I believe they have never seen a naked woman in front of their eyes either, or they were a lousy painter, because they were unable to capture the perfection I see in front of myself.
Damon told me stories, how women are different shapes and sizes, and how every one of them likes to be kissed differently, and tastes differently, and not all of them like to be touched in the same places, but when you figure out what they like, all of them shiver under the same intensity. He said some women have larger curves, while some have none. He said some are ashamed of pleasure, while some revel in it.
But everything he told me doesn't even come close to what Elena looks like.
Her hips, and her behind, are perfectly rounded, and there's a gap between her thighs. Her skin is milky. I wonder what she tastes like, what she feels like. By now, imagination was enough. Thinking she feels like silk or tastes like strawberry cake was enough, but now, when I'm few steps of being able to prove it to myself, I want more than imagination.
I want her.
And as I watch her, I'm more and more convinced she has no flaws where her body is concerned. She was made out of the finest material by most skilled hands, without any other intention than to prove to the mankind that perfection still does exist.
She is the woman painters should paint, but only the ones who are talented enough, so her beauty does not go to waste because the hands of someone cannot prove what eye can see. Writers should write about her, and everything she is from the inside, so those who cannot appreciate the beauty of view, can understand the beauty of words. Musicians should make music about her and her wind like movements, so those who are blind and illiterate can enjoy the language the whole world speaks - music.
She tilts her head a little, to the side, and looks over her shoulder, before she says, "Don't you know it's impolite to stare, Mr. Salvatore?" and blush washes over my cheeks.
As fast as she looked over her shoulder, she looks back, straight ahead, and steps out of her dress, which is now on the ground.
I want to answer her, say something, anything, but all the words I think of die in my throat before they touch my lips.
She walks towards the quarry, and when she reaches the water, she stops in front of it, only putting her toe in. When she pulls it back, I can imagine her smile, because she starts walking into the water, until her whole body is covered with it, and her hair is flowing on the surface of it, behind her.
She turns around, and through the clarity of the water, I can see her breasts.
"Have you enjoyed the show?" she asks with a serious face expression.
The only thing I can feel is heat. The air is not humid anymore, it's refreshing, and a moment ago, I could have felt the coldness of wind on my cheeks, but now, the only thing I can feel is heat. My body is sweating. Even the place under my tongue is full of sweat.
I want to reply to her. I want to find the right words, to say something witty, something worthy of the view of her body, but my brain is all fuzzy, and it seems all of the words have escaped me.
"I..," I say, stumbling like a child, unable to finish the sentence, partly because I have no idea what I want to say, partly because my throat is tightening in my neck.
A smirk creeps on her face. "I'm not mad, Stefan," and as she calls me by my first name, my heart jumps a little, and the flame inside of my eyes fires up. She notices my reaction to her words, so before she continues talking, a smirk on her face becomes wider, "I'm only wondering how much time will it take before you join me," and as my eyes lock on hers, my expression becomes dead serious under the intensity of her smiling face.
She wants me to join her? In the water?
"Take off your clothes," she bites her lip as she orders me.
Naked?
My heart is beating rapidly, and everything in front of my eyes, except her shape, is foggy.
"I promise I won't look," she giggles as she turns around and covers her eyes with her hands.
ELENA'S POV
My hands are covering my eyes, my breathing is fast, and now when I'm not facing him, my smile is shivering. I have a feeling my heart is going to pop out of my chest and drown in the quarry.
I'm scared. And all of a sudden, I'm cold. My whole body is freezing, from the tip of my toes to my neck, where the water is ending. I want this. I invited him. Since I reached the clearing, I knew he was following me. I heard him behind me, even though he was trying his best to remain silent. I want him, but in the same time I'm scared of wanting him. Or having him. Or being his.
And there is nothing worse than wanting something, but being too scared to reach it. Or maybe, reaching for it and then feeling like it will crash in you and knock you down, is worse.
I can hear him entering the water. I tell myself to calm down and to keep myself in check. I regain my posture, move the hands off my face, drop a smile, that is between fake and honest one, on my face, and turn around to face him.
He's close behind me, so close. I look down his face, at his chest, and through the water, I can see it clearly. Which makes me wonder, can he see mine as well as I can see his? I blush out of embarrassment but before he has a chance to notice, or comment on it, I say, "You're nearly as pale as I am," I smile at him, because I can see nervousness on his face.
"The difference is, it looks good on you," he compliments me.
I've always hated my fair skin tone, and I've always envied the girls who have tanned skin. I never thought about it as one of my virtues, nor has anyone ever complimented me on it. I never expected them too.
But Stefan did. And the way he's looking at me now.. I wonder how would other men react in this situation. What would they do if I was standing naked before them? I always thought men would try to sneak a peek. But not Stefan. He's looking straight at my face. My eyes, my lips, sometimes my neck and my shoulders, even my hair which is floating on the water all around me, but his look is not traveling any lower.
I know he's interested in me, because if he wasn't, he would not be here. But Stefan is different from the rest of them.
"I've always loved your hair," I say as I glance at his messy hair, which is messier than usual. He probably did not have any time to comb is after he woke up, plus, light wind is blowing.
He looks at me and I notice there's a slight amount of blush on his cheeks. "I always thought it makes me look like a boy," he confesses.
I chuckle. "You are a boy," I say through a light laughter as he shots me a serious look. "There's nothing wrong with boys," I wave my hand at him, making tiny circles in the water, "I like boys," I giggle.
A smile appears on my face, and he smiles back, but I can see he's still uncomfortable.
And I don't want him to be. I'm not either, not anymore. I'm not scared or cold. My body feels quite warm, and even though my heart is still beating rapidly, it's not from fear, it's from excitement.
As I move closer to him, I can see his shoulders become stiff. We're so close to each other, so close I can feel his legs touching mine in the water.
"What are you thinking about?" I ask, trying to catch his look that is wandering all over my face.
"You," he replies fast, honestly.
"Oh," I gasp surprised, even though I'm not, "What about me?" I grin at him, and I can see his stiff shoulders relaxing.
"How soft your hair is," he touches the ends of my hair, in the water, with his fingers, "And how enchanting your eyes are, so full of beauty and wonder, like you've seen the whole world and want to see all the other ones," he locks his eyes on mine and then smiles as his look falls on my nose, "And your nose is so small and perky," he laughs lightly, and I can feel my cheeks burning with blush. "And your lips," he says as his looks falls on them.
He moves his fingers from my hair to my face, and with his thumb, scrapes my lips, "So soft," he gasps silently, "Red, like a rose," he makes an observation, as he removes his thumb from my lips.
His look moves back, and as it locks on mine, he starts lowering his head, pushing his lips towards mine. I move my look from his eyes to his lowering lips, and my lips shiver as I wait for his to land on them.
They're so close to mine, I can feel his breath on my face. Our noses touch, and there's only a small gap, thinner than a finger, between our lips. He stops lowering his head for a moment, and looks at me, making me look at him. And as I move my eyes to lock them on his, his lips fall on mine.
This is it. It's happening. My first kiss.
I never imagined it would happen like this.
But I guess things never happen like you imagine they would. Things never happen like you plan them. Sometimes they turn out worse, sometimes better, but they're never exactly the same as you see them in your head.
Sometimes life disappoints you, and sometimes it surprises you.
He keeps his lips pressed on mine, and as he does so, I can feel my insides warming up, I can feel something inside of me, some kind of energy circling inside of my body. I do not know what to do with my hands, and I can guess neither does he, because his keep awkwardly hanging on the sides of his body, floating in the water.
And when air disappears from both of our lungs, he detaches his lips from mine to inhale.
This is nothing like I imagined my first kiss is going to be. It is more. And it is less at the same time.
I thought I will be fearless and give myself to someone without giving it a second thought. But instead, I shivered, and fear was evident in my eyes, and until he kissed me, I thought I was going to drown.
But when he did.. I could have never imagined how it feels to have someone's lips pressed on mine. How wet and soft and subtle someone's lips could be. How awkward and wonderful, new and unknown, but at the same time so natural, it will be. I could have never imagined the warmth I felt or a tingling sensation in the back of my throat.
I blush when I feel his eyes on mine. I raise my look up and smile at him, and then..
Then he puts his hands on my hips and pulls me closer to him, his lips falling on mine once again, but this time more rapidly, aggressively, passionately. I can feel his tongue trying to part my lips. And I let it.
And as we kiss, all I can feel is his touch on my body, my body burning in such intensity that, for a moment, I think the water is boiling. My breasts are pressing next to his chest, which is when I remove my hands from his chest, and throw my arms around his neck.
STEFAN'S POV
Her lips taste nothing like strawberry cake. Strawberry cake is nothing compared to her lips. Her lips taste like happiness. And sunshine. And memories. Her lips taste like past, present and future. They're soft, but not like anything I could have ever imagined. They're special kind of soft, soft that cannot be compared to anything. They're swallowing me, my insides, my body and my soul, and I'm ready to give her everything she asks for.
My hands are wandering up and down her body, from her lips, to her back. I'm following the line of her back with my fingers. Her breasts are pressing next to my chest, and they're hard. She threw her arms around me neck and she's pulling her fingers through my hair on the back of my head.
I do not want to stop kissing her, but I can feel air escaping my lungs.
I cup her face and kiss her one last time before detaching my lips from hers.
She buries her face in my shoulder, as I, controlled by the intensity of this moment, plant a kiss on her neck.
She gasps.
Not, it's not a gasp. It's a moan.
Beautiful, silent, melodic moan.
I plant another kiss. Then another one. Then another one. And by the time I reach her shoulders, I lose count of how many times I've kissed her skin.
"You're so beautiful," I say in between kisses.
I can feel her lips forming into a smile as she keeps them pressed onto my skin, even before she laughs lightly.
"I think we need to head back," she says.
I know we have to. "I know," I reply, holding her close to me.
But I don't want to let her go.
"Stefan," she says my name through a giggle, and my name has never sounded more beautiful than it does now, "You need to let go of me, otherwise we won't be able to leave," she says, detaching her face from my body.
"I do not want us to leave," I whine a little, "I like it here," I look around us, "No one can see us, touch us, interrupt us," I smile at her, "We're all alone," I whisper into her ear.
I can feel her chest raise and fall next to mine.
"We need to get dressed," she says, playing with my hair at the back of my neck.
"Maybe I don't want you to get dressed," she shots me a serious look as those words come out of my mouth, and I fear she got the wrong idea, so I try to explain myself, "It's just," I pull my fingers up and down her arm as I hold her close, "Feeling your skin next to mine, it's the best feeling I've ever felt," I confess.
"I know," she leans her forehead against mine, "But I'm cold," she says, and I know she is, because I can feel the water getting cold around me too, "And we can have more moments like this, later," she smiles at me.
I look at her and a smile creeps on my face. "Promise?" I ask.
"I promise," she kisses my lips one more time before pushing herself away from me. "Now let's get dressed," and I watch her as she starts coming out of the water. Before she reveals her body to me completely, she turns around and smiles at me, "I'll race you towards the house," and she hurries to the surface.
AN: I know a lot of you wanted to see their first kiss, so finally, here it is. I hope it did not disappoint. Tell me what you think in the reviews :)
And oh, for the person who said Elena never looks at Stefan's lips in the show, that is completely untrue. I can remember at least 10 scene when she does look at his lips. The key thing is how she's looking at him, not where ;)
