May 2007, Part Two
I let you see the parts of me
That weren't all that pretty
And with every touch you fixed them
The slight shifting and crunching of the gravel underneath his tires filled Damon's ears as he pulled into Elena's oceanfront home. The main cast members had each been given their own house to stay in while filming in the small beach community since there weren't adequate hotels close by. It was located in a small neighborhood of homes that all looked more like suburban mansions than beach cottages, but clearly Elena had nothing to complain about when it came to her living situation.
Damon pulled the rental car underneath the lofted house. As he stepped out, grabbing his leather duffel bag from the trunk, the near-silence of the salty air left him uneasy. He wasn't used to the quiet after living in LA for the past few months; he fell asleep every night to sirens and distant dog barks. Now all he could hear were the alluring crashes of waves on the sand. It would have been more unsettling if he hadn't grown up in a similarly quiet town for the majority of his life.
He made his way up the wooden stairs to the front door and knocked, but there was no reply. Damon sighed, knocking two more times after being unsuccessful in his attempts to find a doorbell. Still, after nearly three minutes, he had yet to be greeted by the woman he'd flown across the country to see. Damon sloughed the heavy bag off of his shoulder and dug around in his pocket for his phone, considering that she could be on an upper floor and unable to hear the knocks. But when her cheerful voice came up indicating he should leave a voicemail, Damon let out a growl. After spending his entire day in airports and planes with very little sleep, he had zero desire to be locked out for who knows how long.
Out of sheer curiosity, Damon tested the door handle and found, to his surprise, that it was unlocked. Half of him understood why she would leave it unlocked: this town's most dangerous criminals were probably a half-drunk group of teenage boys with nothing better to do on the weekends. But regardless, he didn't like the idea of her being in a house all by herself when anyone could just walk in.
Damon heaved the bag back over his shoulder and made his way in. The way the house was designed, the floor he entered on only held a staircase. Damon ascended the first flight of stairs and was met with a long carpeted hallway.
"Elena?" Damon called out. There was no response. The fact that the house was deathly silent made his muscles tense and adrenaline rushed through his veins. He walked down the hall and was met with bedrooms, four to be exact. Well, only three had the doors open, but he assumed the one with the closed door at the very end was hers. He chucked his bag into the first room he could, finding it a little ridiculous that she had a four bedroom house all to herself. But it was difficult for him to focus on much else when Elena was still missing.
Damon came to the closed door after the sudden realization that she might just be asleep rather than kidnapped by the crazed psychopath his paranoia had invented. Thankfully, after pushing open her door and entering her room, he realized his suspicion had been correct.
Elena was passed out in the bed, her position somewhat awkward and her hair splayed out in all directions. Damon smiled, his heart rate finally settling down. Seeing her now made him realize just how much he'd missed her. He crossed over to her and gently pulled the blankets in a more comfortable direction, given how mangled they'd become from her unconscious movements.
After hearing her in so much distress on the phone, Damon was just happy to see her calm and at peace. But once he came closer to the bed, he frowned as he noted the substantial amount of sleep medication on the nightstand. Clearly, she hadn't been able to get sleep on her own.
"How the hell did you manage to get yourself that worked up, Lena?" he murmured softly, pushing back the thick clump of hair that fell over her face. Her deep breaths fanned across his fingers as he did so, her subconscious completely unaware of his presence.
Damon decided to let her be, but not before taking a glance out the large French doors directly across from her bed. The house was definitely right on the beach, and although it was dark, he could still see the waves crashing onto the shore. Damon pulled open one of the doors just a few inches, allowing the soothing sounds to float into the room, hoping that they would somehow quell even more of her stress while she slept.
Damon made his way back to the staircase and headed to the top floor. It was an odd design of a house for the kitchen and living room to be on the top floor with the bedrooms beneath it, but it was fairly typical for a beachfront. Damon was surprised at how clean the house was, given Elena's messier nature, but there wasn't much to indicate that she even lived there. He could see her thick copy of the film script sitting on the coffee table next to an empty water bottle and there was one clean dish sitting out on the kitchen counter.
Seeing the plate made Damon realize that he hadn't eaten in hours thanks to his extensive traveling. He headed over to the fridge and mumbled a quick "thank God" when he saw that it was fully stocked. Obviously, groceries were also something provided for the budding starlet. She must have been eating on set more than she did in the home since it also looked like it had barely been touched. When Damon saw that the cabinets were also filled to the brim, he decided that making dinner wouldn't be such a bad idea.
Like some creepy sixth sense, when Elena woke up, she knew that Damon was in her house. She was pretty groggy thanks to the drugs she had taken, but even without telltale footsteps above her or some sort of visible sign from her room, she knew he'd come in at some point while she'd been asleep. Elena had hoped the drugs would knock her out for long enough that he'd be there once she awoke, so she'd left the front door unlocked just in case.
She knew it probably wasn't the smartest idea to take the medication, but she had no clue how to get herself out of her anxiety attack long enough to sleep. Besides, most of the anxiety itself was caused from being overly exhausted. Elena was slightly worried about her sleep schedule, though. Glancing at the bedside clock, she realized it was around eleven at night and she was supposed to be on set in twelve hours. But now she was left wide-awake after sleeping for most of the day.
As Elena got out of bed, a rush of embarrassment came over her as she remembered just how much of a meltdown she'd had while on the phone with Damon. She was far from proud of what she'd done earlier that day, but the stress of the week had finally combusted inside of her. She cringed as she recalled how needy and weak she must have sounded. She'd been doing so well in convincing Damon she wasn't a child and that she could take care of herself…. Now, it had all probably gone to shit.
Once she made her way down the hall and to the stairs, she could hear some dishes clanging in the sink, the sound of the faucet going on and off indicating that he was washing them. Elena headed up the carpeted stairs and when she rounded the corner into the kitchen, a relieved smile came across her face.
Damon was standing in profile, his tired gaze fully focused on scrubbing off what looked like pasta sauce from a pan. His hair was sticking up in a few different directions and his button down shirt was hanging un-tucked over his dark jeans, sleeves rolled up to show off his strong forearms. Elena took advantage of the fact that he still hadn't spotted her, watching him lean over to the side to drink out of the beer bottle he must have procured from the stocked fridge.
"Hey."
Damon jolted, clearly surprised by her appearance in the room and she noticed some flecks of water hit his shirt as he jumped back. "Christ, Elena. You scared me. I thought you'd be out until the morning."
Elena shook her head back and forth, her foot slightly tapping in anticipation. In anticipation for what, she wasn't quite sure. All she knew was that she'd desperately missed Damon and when she'd felt completely lost and hopeless just a few hours earlier, he'd been the only person that could soothe her fears.
His gaze softened as he took her in, a small smile forming on his face. He grabbed a towel from the rack and began drying his hands. "Hey back."
The next thing she heard was a loud "oof" as she collided with him, nearly squeezing the breath out of his lungs for the first few seconds she held onto him. Damon only gave a slight moment's hesitation before he met the embrace. His hands were still slightly wet from the sink, but the slight seeping of water into the fabric of her tank top didn't bother her. It just further proved that he was really here and she could finally feel safe.
They stood like that for nearly five minutes, Damon just holding her while she gathered as much strength from him as she possibly could. His hands alternated between rubbing circles into her back and running his fingers gently through the tangled strands of hair. Elena could feel her eyes burn slightly as her overworked brain began considering that, in a few days, he'd be leaving her again, but she shook it off. She couldn't think of that or it might just send her into another downward spiral.
Damon waited to speak until she'd pulled herself out of his arms. "Alright, ready to tell me what happened?" he asked.
Elena nodded, situating herself on the other side of the counter and onto a stool.
"Do you want me to make you anything?" He asked, putting the dishtowel back in its place and pulling the pan out onto the counter to dry.
"No, I'm fine." She waited until Damon was done cleaning things up before she spoke again. "Thank you, Damon."
"No problem."
Elena smiled. "Not just for the offer. For everything. It was above and beyond the call of duty for you to come all the way out here just to help me get over an emotional breakdown. Seriously."
Damon nodded, moving around the counter to sit on the stool directly next to hers. "I told you I would be here for you if you needed me. I meant that." She noticed conflict flicker in his eyes as he stared at her. His voice was slightly deeper as he spoke again. "You realize, though, that I'm not going to let you run away, right?"
Elena took a deep breath. Although the idea of running away had sounded incredibly appealing the entire week, and frankly still did, her long sleep had granted her brain with some logical thinking. "Yeah, of course. I need to stay."
"Yes, you do. And I can't be here the whole summer. But I'm going to do all I can while I am here to make you feel comfortable with what you need to do. So why don't you start by telling me what made you so freaked out?"
Elena hoped the deep flush in her cheeks didn't make him suspicious. She knew what singular event had triggered the breakdown that had made her call him, but there was no way in hell she'd be able to explain it to him without wanting to crawl under a rock afterwards. She decided he would be satisfied with knowing just the basic general facts.
"I don't know. It was just a culmination of all the week's stress. I'd held it in for so long that something stupid set me off." Well, she wasn't lying there. It had taken everything in her not to shut down after the first day, let alone keeping it together for the entirety of the week. "When I called you… well, I'd just kind of lost it at that point."
Damon nodded. "You said you were stressed because of your inexperience, right? At least, that's what I heard through the sobbing."
Damon's comment provoked the slightest smirk from Elena, but it faded quickly when she began talking again. "I mean… everyone here is a professional. They've been doing this for years and years and the only time I've ever been in front of a camera was when I did that sketchy commercial. I'm the one making the most mistakes and I have one of the lead roles! Every time I forget my lines or stand in the wrong place or just do the wrong thing at the wrong time… I feel like a huge burden that they're stuck with. Like they regret ever even hiring me."
Damon let out a deep breath. Elena noticed his hand shoot out as if he was going to place it on her knee, but he made a quick change to place it on the counter instead. "Look, Elena. I highly doubt they regret hiring you. They chose you because you brought something to that audition that hundreds of girls before you couldn't. If these people are anything halfway decent, which I assume they are, they're going to be fine with you learning your way through this. As long as you work your ass off to be the best you can be, they'll be fine. If you're still concerned, though, I'll come to set with you tomorrow and I'll check it out for myself. But, to be honest, I think you're just overly self-aware."
Elena nodded. Even if she wasn't totally convinced by his words, just having him near her and trying to comfort her made her feel more at ease than she had been in days. She rested her elbow on the counter, leaning her head into her hand.
"Has Katherine said anything to make you worried?" Damon inquired.
Elena shook her head, a confused expression settling on her features. "No. Katherine left three days ago."
Damon's eyes nearly bugged out of his head. "You're kidding me?"
"No," Elena replied. "She had stuff to do back in LA. She couldn't stick around and babysit me."
Damon heaved a sigh, visibly furious. "I'm assuming those were her words," he growled. Elena's guilty expression answered his unspoken question. "Christ. I swear, she is the most self-absorbed woman…"
Elena knew Damon had always had some sense of apprehension when it came to Katherine. Their personalities had clashed from the beginning and Katherine's constant flirtatious remarks were always quickly shot down. But Elena had never seen him that upset over her. "Well, she is the one that got me here, Damon. Without her, who knows what would have happened with me and Frank?"
Damon rubbed his hand over his eyes. "I know, I know. She just… pisses me off sometimes. She shouldn't have left you to fend for yourself."
Elena's first instinct was to argue with him, remind him that she was an adult, but then she remembered her juvenile display on the phone. She wasn't really in a good place to make that claim believable.
"If you've been stressed all week, why didn't you pick up my calls?" Damon asked.
Elena's gaze went down towards her bare feet. "I was embarrassed, Damon. I mean… god, I try so hard to prove myself to you and within three hours, I wanted you here. I couldn't admit that to you. I hated feeling so helpless and I was terrified if I heard your voice, I would break." Elena shook her head back and forth, feeling the stress rise back up like bile. "God, I should never have called you here. This was so stupid."
"Hey, hey." This time, Damon's hand did settle on her knee, the warm heat of his palm instantly forcing Elena to temper herself down. "Elena, look at me." Elena's eyes shot up to meet his, swallowing down the lump that had formed in her throat. His intense gaze nearly did her in, but she maintained it as he waited for her to settle down her breathing. "Elena, there's nothing wrong with asking for help. Remember, you're not a burden. Especially not to me." His serious expression cracked as a small smile broke across his lips. "You know I missed you. If you hadn't asked me to come here, I would have had to make up an excuse."
Elena sniffled, wiping away the stray tear that had formed moments earlier. "You're just trying to make me feel better," she shot back, her own matching smile creeping onto her face.
Damon smirked. "Well, partially. But I did miss you."
Elena hated the tingling she felt in her stomach at his words. It was the same tingling she'd had back in college when she'd had the dumb schoolgirl type crush on him. It had faded over the past few months to where she rarely felt it, but ever since she'd heard Damon tell her he'd be on the next plane, the tingles had come back. She refused to go back to her naïve idiotic self, even if it was only a version of her from a few months ago. She'd felt like she'd changed so much since then and had finally become the kind of woman Damon could actually be friends with. It was just incredibly hard to stay neutral when he was staring at her and saying things like that.
"You should probably go back to bed," Damon spoke up. "Don't want you falling asleep on the job tomorrow."
Elena sighed, shaking herself out of her thoughts. "There's no way I'll be able to fall asleep for at least another hour or so. I slept too much during the day."
Damon grimaced. "Well, what else can I do to make you feel better? Do you want me to run lines with you?"
Elena shook her head, rubbing her hands down her thighs. "Can we just… I don't know… hang out? Sit on the couch, watch TV like we do at home? I think taking my mind off of it would be the best option. I'm done overanalyzing."
Damon nodded. "That sounds like a great idea. Hopefully, it will put us both to sleep."
Damon was sitting in the only chair positioned on the top half of the deck, staring out into the black sea, lost in thought. His head tilted when he heard Elena come up behind him. "Hey, sleepyhead."
After only about five minutes of watching TV, Elena had passed out again, her face firmly planted in the couch cushion. Not wanting to wake her, Damon muted the television and draped a nearby blanket over Elena's sleeping figure. The show wasn't nearly as interesting without sound so he'd decided to sit out on the deck instead and enjoy the late night breeze. Besides, he was still pretty awake thanks to the time difference.
"Hey," she mumbled back, her arms wrapped in the aforementioned blanket. "What time is it?"
"I think it's around three in the morning."
"Christ," Elena groaned. "I'm going to be so dead tomorrow."
"You should just go downstairs and try to go back to sleep."
Elena scoffed. "Yeah, like that will happen."
"Well, you said that the last time and after five minutes of a Friends rerun, you were drooling all over me."
"Shut up," Elena grumbled, inciting a chuckle from Damon. "Can I sit with you?"
"Yeah, if you can find a chair," Damon replied. "They can get you oceanfront property with four bedrooms and private beach access, but they can't shell out money for more than one deck chair?"
Elena laughed. "There was a storm earlier this week. I was told to move all of the chairs to the lower half of the deck. This was the only one that was too heavy for me to carry."
Damon nodded. It made sense. It was a large wooden chair that even he would struggle to take down a flight of stairs. "I'll go grab you one, then."
"No, it's fine. I'll just share with you." And before Damon could protest, Elena was settling her legs to drape across him, her blanket falling halfway across him. She wasn't exactly sitting in his lap: the chair was wide enough that her ass was settled directly next to him. But her mostly bare legs were firmly settled on top of his thighs, her knees tucked up so she could settle the bottoms of her feet on the other side of him. Damon sighed, leaning back in his chair as she adjusted the blanket around the two of them, flashing him a quick smile. She did a few more seconds of shifting around, adjusting herself slightly so that most of her back was leaned into his chest, avoiding the sharp indent the wooden arm rest would have caused. Once she was done, Damon moved his arms so that they were loosely around her bent legs and contorted torso.
"Comfy?" He asked, his tone partially mocking.
"Yep," Elena replied, either completely missing his sarcasm or choosing to ignore it.
They sat together without words for a while, just allowing the sounds of the ocean to fill their ears, but Damon could practically hear Elena thinking next to him. Listening to waves crash was not nearly as distracting as watching a television show; in fact, it probably encouraged one to think about life's biggest issues rather than avoid them. Hell, it's what he'd been doing out here until she showed up.
"Alright, talk to me. What's still bothering you?"
"Nothing," she mumbled, totally unconvincingly.
"You're going to have to do better than that, Elena. Come on, you know you can tell me whatever's on your mind. I didn't come out all this way for the seafood."
Elena took in a deep breath, her body beginning to awkwardly shift in her place and causing Damon some discomfort. She stayed silent so Damon tried again. "Elena-"
"I don't want to talk about it," she snapped. He immediately noticed the regret in her eyes at her harsh tone. "It's embarrassing," she qualified softly.
Damon sighed. He had no clue what she was referring to, but he wasn't about to humiliate her into revealing it. He wasn't going to lie though: he was thoroughly intrigued by her words. "Well, here's the deal. You can either keep it in your head, let it fester and stress you out. Or you can talk about it and possibly make it better. But I'm not going to force you into discussing anything you don't want to."
It seemed like Elena hadn't taken the bait, her head just digging the slightest bit more deeply into his chest and her gaze going towards the frayed ends of the blanket. Damon's focus went back to his steady breath and the oddly comforting feel of her body slightly rising against his with every inhale. A voice in the back of his head reminded him that these were the sorts of things he was missing out on by choosing to be a one-night stand kind of guy, but another voice debated that Elena seemed more than willing to provide the sensation, if only for the night.
Her shaky voice interrupted his thoughts. "It's the scene I have tomorrow."
"What's it about?" Damon replied.
Elena let out an exhale. "It's a… um…" The next words came out so quietly and so quickly that Damon barely caught them. "Asexscene."
"A sex scene?" Damon pushed himself back as far as he could in surprise, slightly turning Elena in his arms so that she had to face him. Now, Damon had heard that there were some racier scenes in the movie, but for some reason, he'd never considered how far they might go.
"Well, not like a full out sex scene, but one where I… um…" It was hard to tell in the darkness, but he was fairly sure her face was bright red. "Hold on."
Elena shot up from the chair, racing back inside. Damon let out a breath, rubbing his hand down his face as some images he really didn't want to own up to began flashing through his head. Elena Gilbert doing a sex scene? No wonder she'd had a mental breakdown. She couldn't say the words "sex scene" without looking like she wanted to throw up.
Damon's mind drifted to the bikini incident not so long ago where the Elena he'd known had disappeared completely and out had emerged… well, he wasn't exactly sure who that had been. Regardless, she needed to find whatever had motivated her in that moment if she was ever going to get through the next few months.
A spark of possessive heat flared through Damon when she returned, holding the script in her hands opened to a specific page. He grabbed it from her as she went to stand right on the edge of the deck, leaning on the railing. "You, um… aren't doing, like, nudity in this, are you?" Damon asked. He mentally cursed when he realized he sounded more like a twelve-year-old boy than anything else.
Elena spun around. "God, no. But… well, just read."
Damon's eyes went down to the page and began skimming over the words. He blew out an exhale as he read what was actually a dialogue-less scene. In short, Elena's character, Marlowe, was supposed to be doing something in the kitchen when "Brandon" would come up from behind, wrap his arms around her, and, well, to be blunt, stick his hand down the front of her pants in an attempt to get her to forget about a recent argument. All of the testosterone-fueled, purely male parts of Damon's brain were on high alert and he was pretty sure they'd be set for days with the verbal imagery provided.
Elena began speaking again once she sensed he was done. "It's not the most scandalous thing my character does in the movie, but it's the only scene where I'm supposed to, um… get off on camera. And… I don't know exactly how to do that."
Damon was now speechless in his seat. He dropped the script down next to him, not needing to see any more of it. He wasn't sure how to comprehend the fact that he was discussing orgasms with Elena and her fear that she wouldn't be able to properly express one, however fake. The sicker, cruder parts of his brain were ready to offer her the opportunity to learn just how, but he shoved the thoughts back down. "Does anyone on set besides Katherine know about your… lack of experience?" He finally managed.
Elena furiously shook her head. "No. But they can't know. If they ask any questions, I'll lie. They don't need another reason to regret hiring me."
Damon sighed, leaning forward onto his forearms. Elena's quiet, timid voice rang out again over the ocean's sounds. "I, um, watched some… porn online to try to see what they did and I guess I'll just imitate that, but… I don't know. It seems kind of overdone."
Damon couldn't stop the groan that came somewhere from the back of his throat. Yeah, there was no way in fuck Elena was allowed to say something like that. Thankfully, his hands were still on his face so it was muffled. He desperately tried to find something in him to push back the mental images of Elena watching porn or, worse, the idea of Elena making the same faces as the women in porn. Of course, those faces came along with a host of other things that forced his jeans to become slightly uncomfortable.
He tried desperately to shake it off. He was stuck in the shitty spot of both wanting to help her and wanting her to move on from the subject as quickly as possible. "Yeah, those probably aren't your best bet. They're pretty over exaggerated."
Elena rubbed her hands up and down her bare arms as another breeze blew past. "I'm freaking out, Damon. It's… it's going to be humiliating."
Damon had no clue how to coach her through this and he hated that. He assumed that someone on set would be able to help her out if worse came to worse, but she was right. She'd probably have to embarrass herself first before they'd realize she had no clue what she was doing. Damon wanted to convince her to let someone on set know, but he knew she was too self-conscious to admit that "fault" in her character out loud. The logic was twisted, but it was the logic she was going to go by, come hell or high water.
He decided to do the only thing he could do: take her mind off of it and try to cheer her up. "Is this the first time you've had to do something like that on set?"
Elena shook her head. "No. First day, the director made me do a make-out scene with each of the guys. He said it would help us break the awkwardness or whatever, but it was fine."
Damon's eyes nearly bulged out of his head in shock. "You've already made out with two other guys?" He asked, letting out a disbelieving laugh.
"Yeah," Elena replied, her gaze still out on the sea. She was speaking with enough nonchalance that she could have been discussing the tide calendars. "That was easy. If you're trying to show lust or desire, at least you're doing something. Tomorrow's scene is completely faked. He'll barely even be touching me. Besides, after like thirty takes of the same kiss when you're standing in a room with thirty other people, it's not exactly terrifying anymore."
Yep. Damon was pretty sure his brain was officially permanently fried. "So making out with someone is nothing for you now?" This was definitely not the girl he remembered begging him to kiss her so she could get her first one over with.
Elena shrugged, still not realizing the full effects this conversation was having on Damon. "I guess so. I mean it's so technical on a set. It's easy."
Damon chuckled, taking the bait she'd unknowingly laid out. "Oh, really? I see we've gained some cockiness since the last time around."
Elena pivoted on her heel, a mischievous smile lifting the corners of her lips. "Well, I don't want to brag, but… I may or may not have gotten some compliments."
Damon smirked, happy his mission to take some of her stress away was working. "Well, now I kind of feel cheated," he shot back teasingly.
Elena's eyes widened, a faux appalled expression on her face. "Excuse me?"
Damon shrugged, doing all in his power not to break and laugh. "Well, these guys got experienced, highly-trained Elena. First dibs probably weren't as good."
He saw that familiar fire spark up in her eyes. "Are you saying that our kiss was bad?"
Damon's eyes sparkled. "I'm just saying that I feel like I missed out."
Elena stared him down, giving him the same look she had given him right before she'd knocked his crutches out of his reach in their living room. It caused the now-familiar flow of adrenaline through his veins, the same rush he'd gotten right before he slept with Andie or Jessica. And the rational part of him that told him his teasing was now in dangerous territory was blocked out by the anticipation of what she might do next.
Elena took the few steps to meet the edge of his chair and leaned forward, resting her shins slowly on either side of his lap. She didn't sit, but rather stayed suspended, resting her weight on her knees as she straddled him. Damon swallowed at her proud expression, her face mere inches from his.
"Elena." The rational side of him slipped out when he saw a flicker of trepidation flash across her eyes. Her name was a warning to both of them, another reminder that what they were doing was stupid. "I didn't mean you had to-"
But Elena seemed determined to win yet another challenge. "I don't like how unsure you seem of my capabilities," she replied coyly. "Besides, I'm used to it now. It doesn't have to be a big deal. Just friendly." He wasn't sure if that was meant to reassure him or her, but he figured out what "it" was pretty quickly.
Damon's hands slid up her bare arms, the conflict raging in his mind. How the hell had his sex life changed so rapidly in just a few days? If Elena had done something as outrageous as this a week ago, he would have immediately pushed her off. But after his two encounters with other women, he found himself far more agreeable with the casual nature of what Elena was offering. The same dark voices from before reminded him that he was trying to take Elena's mind off of things, make her feel more comfortable. Why would it be so awful if he got something out of the deal as well?
He felt Elena's arms tense slightly under his hands as she noticed the decision in his eyes and he wondered if she was going to suddenly change her mind. But instead, she took whatever courage had gotten her through her job the past week and began leaning in. When she was halfway there, their eyes locked and it was as if an unspoken agreement was formed.
They were just friends. This was just for fun. It didn't mean anything.
When their lips finally and cautiously met, both let out a relieved sigh. Elena's more than likely stemmed from her stress while Damon's inherent desire was just happy to finally be acting on the sexual tension he'd built up while listening to her discuss porn and orgasms.
Elena was the one to change the course of the kiss; after all, she was the one with the point to prove. The touch of her lips now came more forcefully and she parted her mouth, giving him an invitation he was all too willing to accept. Damon's hands moved from her arms to her back, holding her into him more tightly as he deepened the kiss right back.
Well, Elena had definitely been right. She knew what she was doing now. There was no first kiss awkwardness or hesitation, but rather a controlled and experienced rhythm to her motions. Her tongue sliding across his own reminded him that two other guys had experienced this now. He didn't have that weird claim over her. He would always be her first, but never her only. And that thought made a streak of possessiveness come over him.
Now, Damon felt like he had something to prove, too. She was so nonchalant about kissing someone else, mostly because with those two other guys there was no underlying emotion or lust behind it. Like she'd said, it was too technical to really feel anything. Damon thought it would be fun to knock her off of her high horse a little bit.
The idea of leaving Elena weak at the knees was what caused him to take the lead, surprising her slightly as his grip on her tightened and he met her motions with equal intensity. He could sense her faltering, but she quickly came back from it. He'd be damned if he ever learned why a challenge to her sexuality was what seemed to ignite her passion the most, but he wasn't going to pretend it didn't equally thrill him.
Both he and Elena could sense that the kiss was coming to what should be its end. They'd each made their points and Damon knew that if he pulled away now, they'd both be breathless. But he sensed trepidation on her part to end it as she pulled back only an inch, her forehead resting on his.
If he were smarter, he would have cracked a joke, broken the tension that had formed, and then sent her off to bed after convincing her that she'd been right all along. But something was blocking him from doing so. And it was all summed up in the fact that he just didn't want to.
They'd already established a long time ago that he was attracted to Elena and he'd stopped trying to convince himself otherwise shortly after, but he'd never allowed anything beyond that. Now, though, she was in his arms, kissing him really well and with no thoughts as to why it might be a bad idea. And it felt good. It was a pretty caveman style of thinking to just want to keep doing something because it felt good, but he'd spent all week doing things purely out of instinct. Now, it felt like a habit.
Another part of him realized that Elena had yet to pull away as well, almost as if she were waiting for him to give her a reason to continue. And the quick passing thought that he probably wouldn't have this chance again was what caused him to grab the back of her head, fist her hair, and pull her back in.
Thank god, Damon thought as she responded in earnest. They'd knowingly both gone over the line, but Damon was just grateful she was willing. Her tongue entangling with his, her strands of hair twisted around his fingers, and the night breeze rushing over both of them… it felt damn good. And it felt even better knowing that they were doing something only because it felt good and felt right, consequences be damned.
Elena's legs, which had been holding her suspended above him the whole time, gave out, and she gently settled herself into his lap. Through the haze of the kiss, he noticed that she bucked slightly at the feel of his erection and moved over onto his left thigh. Obviously, feeling his arousal was a little too real for Elena to handle, but he wasn't going to fight her on it as long as she kept practically eating him alive.
Damon sucked Elena's bottom lip into his mouth, slightly scraping his teeth along its puffy surface, and it caused Elena to slide forward on his leg. The whimper that fell from her lips at the sensation of the friction caused Damon to let out a groan, ripping his head away from her.
Elena froze when he pulled away, her eyes showing her fear that she'd done something wrong. Damon wanted to let out another noise just from the innocent expression on her face, but most of all, he wanted to keep reality away for just the slightest bit longer. And the idea that formed in his mind was so twisted that he couldn't even stop himself before it came tumbling from his mouth.
"I can help you."
Elena blinked, her eyes still dazed from the effects of the kiss. "What?" she mumbled, her breath fanning out onto his face.
"What you were worried about… I can help you."
Rational, good guy Damon had been tucked so far back in his brain the past few days that he could only faintly sense the alarm bells that were going off at his words and what he was offering. Elena, on the other hand, immediately tensed.
She made the move to shoot off of his lap, but his grip held her down. "Damon, we can't… that's…" Their make-out session had diminished Elena's will power significantly and even he could tell a part of her wanted to continue as much as he did.
"No, Elena. I don't mean like that. But I can help you… show you what it's like." Damon barely recognized his own voice, clouded with lust. It wasn't even the voice he'd used with Andie or Jessica. It was unique, ignited only by Elena. "I can do it by barely touching you."
Elena blinked, his words tainted in sex and she began to awkwardly shift again. "Damon, we're friends. We can't…"
"It's just as friends, Elena. You're going to have to do it on set with him. Why not do it tonight with me?" His logic was totally flawed and, as a lawyer, he already had six different arguments against himself, but Elena's conflicted gaze was softening. He knew he was partially taking advantage of the fear she had over the upcoming scene, but he'd convinced himself that he was doing what he came here to do: save the damsel in distress.
Elena was now refusing to meet his eyes, her gaze floating down to where her hands rested on his chest. "How?" She whispered so quietly he could barely hear her.
Now, it was Damon's turn to feel slightly embarrassed. "You can use my leg like you just did. If you grind against it for long enough…" He didn't need to fill in any more blanks. She could put two and two together.
Elena bit her swollen lip. "We're outside," she mumbled. "Someone could see us… or hear us."
"It's too dark and it's too late," Damon replied. Damon couldn't have cared less about where they were at this point. And if it made her feel any better, he would carry her inside and to her bedroom, but right now, the idea of having her in his arms as she experienced the intense feeling of release for the first time ever was his first and only priority. The caveman had once again overcome the good guy and he wasn't planning on trying to fight it.
Elena's gaze was locked into his and she looked almost scared to be this close to him. Regardless, he felt the drag of her hips along his jeans as she attempted to do what he'd instructed. But the movement caused Damon to laugh.
"Damon," she whined, her face immediately flushing bright red.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Damon replied, still unable to get the smile off of his face. "But you're not scanning a bar code at the grocery store. It's more fluid than that." Elena still looked ready to run after his quasi-rejection so he let out a sigh and placed his hands on her hips, his tone growing more serious. "Like this." Using the pressure of his grip, he helped her roll her hips along his legs. Elena bit her lip in response as she finally gathered the motion.
Damon was still in shock that she'd actually acquiesced to his pleas and was willing to do anything to make her stay. He watched her shuffle between the two choices, her gaze still focused on her lap rather than his face. But finally, after what felt like the longest minutes of his life, Elena eyes rose up to meet his. "I don't want you just staring at me. Can I, um, kiss you while…"
Damon fought back a scoff. Could she make-out with him while she grinded against his leg until she came? Yeah, like there was more than one answer to that one. "Of course," Damon nodded, trying to mask his eagerness.
There was still the slightest, last bit of hesitation that furrowed her brows. Damon sighed, pushing back the strands of hair that had fallen over her right eye thanks to his mussing. "Elena, you're safe," he murmured. "It's just me."
And with that, he saw the determination settle in her gaze. She leaned forward and captured his lips again and he felt the slow drag of her pelvic bone along his thigh. As Damon deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue along hers as a sort of calming mechanism, he sensed her growing more at ease with the motion. One of his hands went to rest at the nape of her neck while the other settled on her hip, seemingly just going along for the ride.
Damon nearly bit his tongue trying to hold back a groan when he heard Elena's first whimper. She'd clearly come to the point where the effects of the friction were starting to be pleasurable rather than awkward or uncomfortable. And as her body began to realize that by continuing the movements, it could achieve relief, her hips began moving the slightest bit more quickly, becoming more like the inherent hip movement nearly every human is familiar with.
This realization on her part made her kisses a little less refined and her nails dug into the fabric of his shirt. Both of their breathing picked up speed, as Damon's grip on her grew tighter. She wasn't even touching the part of his body that wanted her most, but every grind of her center against his jeans sent a bolt of heat to his dick.
Damon's hands ran down her back as Elena's hip motion slowed, becoming a more forceful and deliberate drag. The slight trembling in her arms and the more frequent whines against his lips finally forced Damon to let out the groan he'd been holding back. This was fantastic and he was left trying to recall all the reasons he'd avoided something like this in the first place. Especially when Elena ripped her lips from his and leaned her mouth into the crook of his neck.
Her body wanted to fall over the edge and it wanted to fall over as quickly as it possibly could, but the effort Elena had already exerted was tiring her and her motions became less fluid as a result. Damon's lips, now unable to reach her own, moved down to her exposed neck, as his hands gripped her hips and began guiding her movements. Elena's hot breath picked up against his neck as he rocked her against him. He forced himself to not rest on any one section of skin for too long, knowing she wouldn't want to have to explain a hickey to anyone on set.
Elena let out a whine, her hips beginning to buck against him in their desperate attempt to find release. "Damon," Elena whimpered. He felt it all the way in his groin. "I can't… I can't…"
She couldn't manage any more, but Damon realized what she was trying to convey. Obviously, the grinding wasn't enough. Something needed to be amplified or added to get her to where she so greatly craved. "What do you need?" His voice was husky with his own desire.
A large part of him was hoping she'd ask him to just take her on the surface of the deck, but she was barely able to even form words, too far gone in her yearning. "I need to… n-need…" Elena cut herself off, biting into his shoulder enough to make him curse, her hips jolting as her internal wires grew even more twisted. "Pl-please," she finally spit out.
Damon still wasn't sure what she was asking for, her hips going back to the smooth, deliberate motions from earlier. He slid his hand around from her lower back to her sides and his thumbs grazed against the top of her shorts. Elena's motions suddenly ceased, her arms still trembling as she let out a whimper. Damon's eyes shot up to meet her own, his hand not moving from its position.
When their gazes met, he saw what was being considered. Elena wanted his touch, his actual touch on the part that ached for him, and Damon was more than willing to offer it. But that… that decision would cross the line they'd set the moment she'd straddled his hips, the line they'd set the day they'd moved in together. If Damon's fingers were what brought her to orgasm, they could no longer cross this off as just some friendly help. Not that her dry humping his leg was exactly a platonic choice, but they could have probably written it off as one. Damon actually touching her, Elena rocking her hips into his hand until she came… it was far too intimate. And by doing so, they'd be breaking their unspoken rule to remain friends and nothing more. This… this was something more.
"Elena," he murmured. Damon knew it would be incredibly painful to walk away, both figuratively and literally, but he needed to give her that option. The option to stay in the safety zone and pretend this had never even happened. She knew enough about the building up of pleasure now that she'd be able to reasonably fake it in a few hours when she was asked to. There was no reason to continue beyond simple yearning.
But Damon knew what it was like to be that desperate for release. You were ready to sell your soul, the feral, untamed parts of you overriding anything else. For Elena, she'd never had the opportunity to build up self-control to fight against it. To expect either one of them to make a logical, rational decision… well, it would be a miracle.
And so when Elena let out another whimper and dropped her forehead into his neck, beginning the slow, forceful hip rocking once more, Damon's hands slid around to the elastic waist, his fingers cautiously slipping underneath the band and hitting…
"Shit," Damon murmured, as his hands touched a soft patch of hair rather than the stretch of underwear he'd been expecting. The fact that the entire time she'd been rolling herself against his leg, they'd only been separated by a thin pair of cotton sleep shorts made him worried that he might come before she did. He couldn't even think about his own release, though, as her hips began moving at their more frenzied pace, not satisfied with his slow descent to the place she needed him.
But when Damon's hand slid down, her hips lifting just slightly from his leg to allow him access, the first touch of the pad of his fingers to her clit caused her to abruptly come, letting out a keening cry into his chest as the sensation she'd been searching for washed over her. She'd been a lot closer to the edge than Damon had been expecting and guilt fell over him as he realized that she probably would have been able to get off without crossing over the aforementioned line.
Elena trembled in his arms, trying to catch her breath as the waves of pleasure flooded through her body. Damon slid his hand out of her shorts, subtly wiping his fingers on the sides of his jeans before wrapping his arms around her, holding her secure to Earth. "I've got you," he murmured, an uncharacteristic display of tenderness that he hadn't been expecting.
Elena panted into his neck, only left with the aftershocks of her orgasm. Damon's thumb swept back and forth across the cotton of her tank top, waiting for her to come back down from the high. Damon tried to take his mind off of the throb in his jeans by focusing on the steady crash of the ocean against the shoreline. He could fix his own situation later.
When Elena's body finally stopped quaking and her breathing returned to normal, Damon tried to help her pull back, but she fought against it, keeping her face buried into his shirt. Damon frowned. "Elena."
"Fuck," she whimpered. And it wasn't the swear that came after being totally and utterly satisfied. It was the type that came when you'd done something you totally and utterly regret. "Fuck."
Before Damon could think of something to say to put her at ease, she began struggling against his grip, now desperate to get out of his lap. He didn't fight it, untangling his arms from around her waist and she took advantage of it immediately. She was up and back inside the house before he could fully comprehend her intentions to escape and when he called out her name, it just reverberated back off of the glass door as she slid it shut behind her, rushing across the living room and turning the corner to go back downstairs.