With a hand poised on the doorknob, Elena glanced back. "Hey, Jer, I'm going for a run. Be back in a little bit."
Jeremy mumbled, "Okay," from the couch without looking away from the TV screen. Brightly colored video game men dashed about, their antics accompanied by the sounds of explosions and rapid-fire gun bursts.
Since that was as much of a response as she was likely to get, she proceeded to open the door and step outside onto the front porch, preparing for her run. Being a vampire, she obviously didn't need the exercise, but she wanted the weary mindlessness that came with physical exertion.
She brushed away some wisps of hair that had escaped from her ponytail and made a final adjustment to the iPod strapped to her upper arm. It took a moment, but just when she was about to pop her earbuds in, she realized she wasn't alone. Damon was sitting on the porch swing.
"Oh – hey." Her hand fell away from her ear. "I didn't hear you knock."
He flashed her a strained smile. "I didn't. I wasn't sure if you'd invite me in or slam the door in my face."
Heart thudding painfully behind her ribcage, she began walking towards him. It'd been three days since she and Damon had parted ways after spending an almost entirely silent night together in his basement, too in shock from the fallout of her disastrous decision to shut off her humanity to resolve anything.
Three days of being trapped in a chaotic tumult of emotion and longing and uncertainty.
Three days of missing him so badly that at times she could barely function.
Three days of tortuous waiting and wondering if their fractured relationship could be repaired – and if that was even what she wanted. She loved him still - of that, she was certain – and he said he loved her, but she didn't know if that was enough or how they would find the path that would move them forward.
He watched her approach with trepidation. She settled beside him on the swing, the painted wood cool on the backs of her thighs, exposed in her athletic shorts.
"Honestly, I'm not sure what I would've done either." She bit her lip. Whatever else she was feeling, she at least owed him her gratitude for sticking around and saving her from the darkest version of herself. "I guess I should thank you for helping me even though I didn't want to be helped. I'm sorry for the things I said when I was …." an evil bitch, she finished silently and trailed off, embarrassed.
"Don't. You have nothing to apologize for. I deserved far worse." He stopped talking abruptly and stared off into the distance. "I've been trying to figure out what the hell I could say to you that would mean anything."
Tilting her head, she greedily drank in the sight of his handsome profile. "Did you come up with anything yet?"
"Oddly enough, Hallmark doesn't make a card for situations like this."
She laughed. "Yeah, I guess there aren't very many people who are as messy and complicated as we are."
He extended his hand, palm up. It floated in the space between them. "Maybe you would let me show you something, instead?"
With a nod and a curious look, she placed her hand in his, threading their fingers together.
"Close your eyes," he instructed gently.
She obeyed, dying to know what he was up to.
A few seconds passed, and then she heard, "You can open them now."
As his voice resounded through her mind like they were in some sort of giant echo chamber, she reopened her eyes and found herself standing on a spot of green grass in the center of a circular dirt driveway, blinking while her vision adjusted to dazzling sunlight. Rising high above her, fashioned with straight, elegant lines, was a two-story white estate house.
Her hand was no longer securely placed in Damon's, because they were no longer next to each other on her porch swing. Glancing about, she spotted him several yards away sitting on one of the porch steps leading up to the front of the house. He was dressed like he came from a by-gone era in a loose white shirt and dark gray pants held up by suspenders. His hair was longer and parted so that it tumbled in soft, black waves mostly across his right temple. There was a football in his hands.
When their eyes connected, he grinned and set the ball down beside him. He jumped up and crossed the distance towards her while it dawned on her what was happening. He was sharing a dream vision with her, like what he had done for Rose. He had whisked her deep into a memory from his past.
Once he was close enough, he captured her hand, pressing soft, sensual lips against caramel-hued skin, every inch the southern gentleman. As he straightened, his eyes glinted mischievously.
"Miss Gilbert."
Even his voice had a pronounced Southern drawl, slow as molasses and so sexy her toes curled. Literally.
A smile stretched her lips. "Mr. Salvatore, this is completely unfair."
He grinned, looking the same as he always did and yet also completely different. His hair was still sinfully black, his eyes still a smoldering blue. Nevertheless, he possessed some new quality that he hadn't possessed five seconds ago when they were talking together on her porch swing. It was something she couldn't quite put her finger on.
And then it hit her.
She reached up and pressed her palm to his cheek, staring at him with unabashed wonder. His face was ruddy from generous exposure to sunshine and fresh air. His aura was idealistic. Vibrant. He looked a century and a half younger, the lines that bitterness and cynicism had etched into his features gone.
"You're human," she breathed. "Oh, this is definitely cheating."
"So are you," he responded with a quirk of his lips.
As unlikely as it sounded, she'd been so caught up in this dream world he'd brought her to that she hadn't realized anything was different, but now that he'd pointed it out, she was taken aback. How could she not have noticed immediately?
The constant craving for blood, never satisfied, always lurking in the background no matter how recently she'd fed, was gone. Poof. No more.
Also, no more athletic shorts or Underarmor shirt or messy ponytail. She was now dressed like a lady from the antebellum south in a deep midnight blue bodice and matching hoop skirt with short capped sleeves. Fine white lace adorned the sumptuous dress at strategic points, including along her generously exposed cleavage. Her hair was long and straight and hung freely down her back.
She'd worn similar looking dresses during special town events, such as when she was in the Founder's Day parade, but they definitely hadn't been the real thing. They were always costumes, meant to mimic only, not to be faithful historical reconstructions. What she was currently wearing was the real thing. It was heavy and difficult to move in, but it was stunningly beautiful.
Done absorbing her new look, she took a moment to study the house looming behind Damon. Stefan had brought her to his ancestral home for a visit while it lay in crumbling ruins, but now here it was, resurrected in all its former glory, complete with Greek columns and a porch that ran the length of the front of the house.
"This is where you and Stefan lived," she said, looking to him for confirmation.
"Born and raised." Gallantly, he offered his arm. "Walk with me?"
"Sure."
Charmed by this opportunity to see a new side of Damon, she wove her arm through his, and they set off at a sedate pace. He was clearly in no hurry, so, rather than mar this time by dredging up the difficult issues that lay between them like easily triggered land mines, she chose to focus on the enchanting loveliness of her surroundings.
Which wasn't hard.
The Salvatore house was situated amidst fertile, well-manicured grounds. The heat was slightly oppressive, an accurate representation of a humid Virginian summer, but a frisky breeze blew about, which prevented them from being uncomfortable. The rhythmic, lulling sussurration of cicadas filled the air from all directions.
First, they strolled together through a beautiful garden located behind the house, zigzagging their way through delightful, maze-like rows of green shrubbery. The path twisted and turned, leading them past bright medleys of delicate-looking bluebells, spectacularly hued orange lilies, and slender scarlet foxgloves that grew in clusters around the bases of white marble statues. Hummingbirds and butterflies flitted past their heads.
Along the way, he pointed out various things that held meaning to him. She was paying attention, she was, but she couldn't stop sneaking side-long glances at him, to the point that he trailed off and hiked an inquisitive eyebrow.
"What?"
"You just – you seem so…." She struggled to think of the right word.
"Really, really, ridiculously good-looking?" he offered helpfully, sounding less than modest.
She laughed and rolled her eyes. "I was going to say young, I think. Or maybe innocent. Not a word I've ever associated with you."
"Well, believe it or not, even I was young and innocent once."
Just then, they drew abreast of a tall rose bush that was in the throes of a mad, amorous blossoming. The blood-red roses were large and round as saucers, exhaling a warm, perfumed breath that saturated the air around them. He plucked one of the dew-kissed blooms and handed it carefully to her. She accepted the flower and brought it to her nose, inhaling its delicate fragrance.
As they rounded a corner and left behind the garden and the prolifically blooming rose bush, she heard an equine snort. A wooden fence came into view. Over it hung the long head of a lovely dark brown horse with huge soulful brown eyes. When Damon came near, she stretched her neck out and stamped a hoof eagerly.
"Lady, meet Elena." He pushed a hand through the horse's feathery black forelock. "Elena, meet Lady." The mare lipped at his shirt.
Elena beamed, enchanted. "She's gorgeous."
"Yes, she is." He was looking right at Elena.
Elena swayed in Damon's directions, gravitating towards him unintentionally. "She was yours?"
"She was all mine. Fastest little jumper for three counties over, and a canter so comfortable she'd rock you to sleep."
While he was singing her virtues, Lady aimed a covetous eye at the rose in Elena's hand. When Elena realized the horse's newly acquired target, she slipped the flower behind her back. Snorting, Lady went back to slobbering on her master. He gave the mare one last fond, gentle pat and reoffered his arm. "Shall we?"
"Yes," she replied with a smile.
They visited a few more spots around the property that had special meaning for him before eventually meandering their way back around to the front of the estate house.
The whole time, she couldn't stop marveling at the vividness of the dream world Damon had created. Everything about this place felt real, fooled her senses.
"This is seriously amazing!" she exclaimed, letting go of him and spinning in a circle, her skirt swishing around her. "You have to teach me how you did this."
"Anytime you want. Just say the word."
"Did you ever bring Ric here? This would've made the historian in him do a happy dance big time."
As soon as the question rolled off her tongue, she regretted it. Not because she wanted to avoid mentioning Ric, but because she hated to see how remote and guarded Damon's features became. It made him look more like the Damon she was used to.
"I've never brought anyone here," he told her sullenly.
It struck her anew how personal this dream vision was for him. He was giving her a front row seat to memories from his past that were more often than not painful and not easily spoken of.
She graced him with a compassionate look. "Thank you for letting me be the first."
He gestured toward the house and changed the subject. "Would you like to see inside? I think you'll really like my bedroom."
The playful waggled of his eyebrows made her giggle. She was tempted to accept, but at last said, with no small amount of regret, "Maybe later. Don't get me wrong, this is seriously incredible, and I really love seeing this part of you, but I'm confused. What exactly did you want to show me?"
His mouth twisted downwards. He ran an agitated hand through his hair. He turned and walked away. Stopped. Turned again and walked back.
"Say it." His voice was so dark and cold it startled her.
"What?"
"Say it," he demanded. "I know you want to. Just say it, Elena."
She sucked in a deep breath and released it slowly, gazing up at him through a wealth of long black lashes, seeking some composure. She didn't find any. Accusations she hadn't realized she'd been harboring but that he'd nevertheless rightly sensed tumbled woefully from her lips. "How could you leave me? If you really loved me, how could you?"
Furrows appeared between the dark slashes of his eyebrows, and his hand came up like he meant to touch her face, but at the last second, he changed his mind and reached for the red rose he'd given her instead, prying it out of her grip. He twirled it, avoiding the pricking thorns. After a few rotations, he unexpectedly wrapped his fingers around the velvety soft bloom and squeezed it in his fist. He opened his hand. The crushed rose fell to the earth in a flurry of bruised petals. He directed his gaze to the spot on the dirt driveway where a carriage would have pulled up to disgorge its passengers.
"There. That's where I saw her for the first time. Katherine." He breathed her name like it had magical properties. "I loved her instantly, and it was real. My love for Katherine was always real. But for her, it was never more than a game. I should've walked away. The right thing to do all along was just to walk away. But I didn't, and she destroyed me."
Elena heard the agony in his voice, and her heart broke for him. What Katherine had done to Damon and his brother, inserting herself in their lives and heartlessly preying upon their youth and innocence, was monstrous. No one who really loved them could have treated them so.
"And you thought I was Katherine 2.0, playing more games with you."
"No," he was quick to deny, "you're nothing like her. She destroyed me, and you saved me. She took my humanity, and you gave it back to me. You're not Katherine, Elena. I am."
She blinked. Wait, what? "What're you talking about?"
He avoided her gaze. "I left you, because I don't want to ruin you like she ruined me. I couldn't live with myself."
"Look at me," she commanded softly. He did so, eyes reluctantly meeting hers. The anguish swimming in their guilt-stricken blue depths utterly shredded her. "I'm not psychic. I don't know what our futures will be, but I don't believe we're doomed to repeat the mistakes of our past. You're not Katherine. You're Damon Salvatore, and I'm Elena Gilbert. That's all. That's enough."
He didn't look like he believed her. "I'm so sorry I hurt you. Please forgive me. I just wanted to do right by you, Elena, but I don't know what that is anymore." His voice dropped in volume, and he sounded broken. Lost. "Tell me what to do."
Her mouth parted on a slightly audible inhale. This was it. He was asking her to make a choice, a choice that would determine whether or not he was a part of her future. Could she trust him? Could she trust in his love?
Only one way to find out. Gathering up her skirts, she whirled and started running.
For a moment, there was only the sound of her quickened breathing (running in an old-timey dress was hard work!) and the soles of her slippers slapping across the lawn. Then, the heavy thud of his boots resounded behind her. She laughed infectiously and increased her speed. The chase was on.
She sprinted back in the direction of the horse field, retracing the serpentine route they'd used earlier through the maze of manicured hedges. Once she'd successfully made it through the garden, she hurtled toward the wooden fence, and it only occurred to her at the last minute that the circumference of her hoop skirt was too wide to fit through the slats. And there was no way she could climb the fence in this awkward, bulky dress that definitely hampered her now human agility.
But she wasn't ready to stop running yet.
What the heck, she decided, it was an imaginary dress so who cared if it got all dirty and squashed? She went for it. Her upper body easily squeezed through the space between the second and third slats. With only a slight bit of strain and maneuvering, the rest of her hoop skirt popped through as well. She took off again, shedding her shoes as she raced across the pasture. Grass blades tickled the soles of her bare feet.
"Elena!" Damon called, vaulting over the fence with laughter in his voice. "Wait for me!"
Racing to the top of a gentle rise, she spun, laughing, and saw him dashing across the pasture after her. Since he didn't have to contend with a hoop skirt, he was rapidly catching up. With a shriek, she turned to keep running, but her skirt finally got the best of her. She tripped and tottered, unable to keep her balance, and tumbled down the other side of the hill. Luckily, it was a small hill and the fall was brief. She ended up on her back, skirt in disarray, the chase now over.
When Damon arrived on the scene only seconds later, she knew he was there before he came into view because he was laughing so hard. Such a rare sound, and she loved it.
However, she playfully pretended to be miffed. "Gee, I'm fine, thanks for asking."
He held out a hand and helped her back on her own two feet. "I'd never let anything happen to you here."
Hands going to her slender waist, he pulled her body tightly against his, soft curves molding against hard lines. The sun shone brilliantly in the bluest of skies directly overhead. They probably looked like they were posing for a romance novel cover shoot with her breasts swollen and heaving against him, the wind teasing their hair, and her mouth soft and parted and ready to be kissed.
Picking up on the whole 'ready to be kissed' vibe, his mouth descended until it was a mere hair's breadth from hers. "Is it too late? Have I ruined everything? Have I lost you forever?"
"No." She claimed his lips for a brief, sweet kiss. Then she drew back and poked him in the sternum. "But I swear if you ever pull something like that again…." She tried to come up with a threat dire enough.
"I won't." He rested his forehead on hers. "I don't know if I can be what you want me to be, but … I'll try."
Heart in her throat, she whispered, "All you have to do is choose me like I choose you. We'll figure out the rest together."
"Yes, Elena, yes, I will. Always." And then he kissed her with a passion that left her breathless and weak in the knees.
"Damon?" she managed to get out a few moments later.
"Hmm?" he answered distractedly while pressing light, ardent kisses to the corner of her mouth.
She backed up a step and tugged at the neckline of her bodice. "Now would be a good time to demonstrate the proper removal of one of these dresses. If you still remember," she teased.
"I remember," he assured her in a low, husky voice.
She shook her head ruefully. "Ugh, you're probably an expert at it." Her features became shy. "Are you an expert at it?"
"Is that your sneaky way of asking if I was a man-whore before I became a vampire?"
Blushing, she turned around. That's exactly what she'd been trying to find out.
"I'll have you know," he said and went about the task of unlacing her dress quickly and deftly, "that I was a model of decorum and discretion when I was a youth."
She snorted. "I find that hard to believe."
"There were exceptions. For instance, when little girls gave me sass, I bent them over my knee, no matter where we were, and gave them a thorough spanking."
Heat bloomed between her legs, and she gulped. "You did not." She meant to sound disbelieving. Instead, she sounded intrigued.
"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" His breath tickled the shell of her ear. "Naughty little girl."
She didn't know how to respond, except to say yes, and there was no way she was going to admit that the very thought thrilled her, so she quickly brought up a new subject. "Was Katherine your first…you know?"
"No, but she was the first girl I ever really loved." He spun her back around, eyes snagging on her pretty pink lips. "And you're the last."
He sealed his vow with a kiss. With hands tender and sure, he pushed her dress down until it pooled around her legs. She wasn't wearing a corset or anything else underneath. Since Damon was in charge of this dream world, she was hardly surprised by that.
Shrugging off his suspenders, he pulled his shirt over his head and spread it on the hillside over a soft bed of grass. With the utmost care, he laid her gently on it. Her legs fell open, and he settled above her, fitting perfectly between them. The fabric of his pants was rough against the delicate, glistening flesh at the vee of her thighs, but in a way that sparked fire in her blood and melted her bones.
He caressed her all over while pouring kisses upon her neck, her shoulders, her arms, her breasts, and even lower, his lips warm like summer rain. She allowed herself to lie completely still, to revel in nothing but the exquisite adoration of his touch until her body ached and trembled with longing. Every now and then, a breathy murmur escaped her.
When he'd kissed his way back up her body, she grabbed his face and said, "Pants. Off. Now."
Laughing, he rolled onto his side to facilitate their removal. No longer content to be passive, she pounced on him. He landed on his back with an "Oomph!"
Once he'd recovered from her surprise attack, he grinned, looking incredibly pleased with their role reversal. It was in his nature to be a dominant lover and she liked that about him, but just now he seemed more than willing to cede the reins of control over to her, and she liked that, too.
Lying beneath her, his strong, lean, supple body framed by a carpet of lush grass and wildflowers, his blue eyes seemed even more piercing in his tanned face, the teeth revealed by his smile even whiter. He was easily the sexiest man she'd ever laid eyes on, no matter what century she found herself in. She wanted – needed – to lick every inch of him, because if there had ever been anyone who deserved to be tongue-worshipped….
She started by kissing his neck, then leisurely descending down to his collar bone, savoring the salty tang of his skin, letting her nipples skim over his chest on her way down. Her tongue trailed over one of his nipples, moving on to the dip between his pecs, and then to the other nipple. More kisses down his stomach, where she licked her way unhurriedly along the ridges of his abs. His muscles danced and twitched under her progression.
Upon reaching his navel, her lips drifted down to the waistline of his pants. She nuzzled the silky black hairs of his goody trail, breaking into a smile when they tickled her nose.
He groaned again and arched his hips. She could take a hint. She sat up and worried the front of his pants where a raised bulge stretched the fabric to its limit.
"I don't know how to take your pants off," she finally conceded with a disappointed pout.
He swiftly undid them, freeing an erection that jutted proudly in her direction. It was long and thick, pulsing, eager for her touch. She curled her fingers around him and softly stroked and fondled. A gust of breath left him.
"Please, Elena," he ground out, "please, angel, please."
Hearing Damon beg filled her with a rush of power, a feminine glow of warmth. She loved knowing that she affected him as strongly as he affected her.
She bent down. For a moment, her breath fanned hotly over his engorged length, coaxing a shudder from him, and then the rosy wetness of her mouth closed around him. His breath hissed in, and he wound her hair around his palms. For several minutes, her tongue and lips and even the occasional gentle scrape of her teeth pleasured him, his raspy moans spurring her on. At one point, she darted her eyes upwards and saw that his features were strained, like he was caught in a tug of war between agony and ecstasy.
Abruptly, he detangled his fingers from her hair and grabbed her upper arms.
"Hey, I'm not done yet!" she protested as he hauled her up the length of his body.
"Yeah, well, I don't want to be done yet either."
His mouth was hot like a brand as he lifted his head off the ground and took one of her pearled nipples between his lips. With a gentle roll of his hips, his arousal brushed against her core, sliding through the wetness leaking between her legs. He arched under her a second time, another blissful rub. This time she felt the blunt tip probing impatiently, seeking entrance.
With a smile, she sat up and positioned herself directly above him. Damon trained his gaze on their point of contact as she sensuously, inch by inch, glided down, stretching to take him inside her as deeply as possible.
When he was completely ensconced in her silky heat, their eyes met, and they shared an intense moment. His eyes may have been the color of blue ice, but they held the heat of a thousand suns.
He whispered, "I love you, Elena. Good or bad, right or wrong, I love you."
"It's right." She clenched around him, and his head fell back to the ground. "For future reference, it'll always be right."
With his hands warm and steady on her hips and her hands braced on his chest, she undulated over him, each rise and fall slow and languid, as if in a dream. No sprinting to the finish line this time.
Her eyes slid shut, and her head fell back, heavy tresses streaming down her back. Her pace never changed or faltered, but the slow burn in her blood grew until every cell in her body was consumed by out-of-control wildfire. Soon, tiny contractions began rippling through her insides, a foretaste of what was to come, caressing his hard length and wringing insensible sounds from him. Hoarse sobs built up in her throat as pleasure unlike any she'd ever known built and built and promised to transport her straight into the heavens.
"Oh god, baby girl, I'm about to come." His voice had devolved into a hoarse growl.
Oh, god, so was she. She was going to explode. Stars flashed behind her eyelids -
Without warning, she was rudely jolted back to the present. Her eyes flew open and she inhaled sharply at the suddenness of it all. The dream vision had vanished, as ephemeral as morning mist. She and Damon were back on her front porch, holding hands on the swing. No trace remained of the young man he had once been or the wide-open horse pasture where they'd just been making love.
He cleared his throat and said sheepishly, "Sorry, you made me lose control."
She laughed, and they gazed at each other with matching smiles. The scene looked peaceful, but inside she was not peaceful at all. What had just occurred between them might not have been technically real, but it'd felt real, especially to her body, which was currently lit up like a sex-starved Christmas tree.
Plagued by the same frustrated desire, Damon leaned in until their lips touched. Their sweet, lingering kiss gradually deepened until they were thoroughly making out. Her arms went around his neck, fingers diving through his raven hair, while his hands roamed, pulling her in even closer.
"Going for a run, huh? Is that what the kids are calling it these days?"
Elena jerked away from Damon like his lips had suddenly morphed into red-hot coals and looked guiltily across at Jeremy. He was glaring at them from the front doorway. With a disgusted sound, he pivoted. He muttered, "Get a room," and stomped back into the house. The door slammed behind him with a loud bang.
Elena stared down into her lap. "That was embarrassing."
"He'll get over it." Damon reached over and took a hold of one of her hands. "Now what?" he asked quietly.
She'd been trying to figure out the same thing, and now she thought she finally knew the answer. "Now we start over," she told him. "A new beginning. A new us."
"A new us," he repeated, as if trying out the idea.
She nodded an affirmative. "We'll just go about our lives, and maybe one day we'll bump into each other around town. I'll just be a girl, and you'll just be a boy - "
"A boy?"
"A man," she corrected with a laugh, "and we'll see what happens. Maybe we'll go on a date or something. I mean, you know, assuming we're both interested."
"Hmm, I guess we'll find out." His eyelids grew heavy, and he did that sexy eye thing that drove her crazy.
Every molecule of oxygen chose that exact moment to vacate her lungs.
Just as he began to lean in for another kiss, she pressed a finger to his lips, holding him at bay. "But no sex."
He scowled.
She laughed. "Just at first. We'll take it slow, okay?"
A small smile replaced his frown. "Okay."
They sat in silence until he reluctantly observed, "I should probably go, then."
"Yeah." Honestly, she didn't want him to go, but if he stayed, they'd just end up making out some more, and that would inevitably lead to clothes coming off, and that was bound to end only one way…. So, yeah, he should probably go. Sigh.
Giving her hand one last tender squeeze, he stood and walked away from her. He halted with his boot suspended above the second porch step and looked over. "See ya 'round?"
She smiled cutely. "You will."
He smiled the entire way to his car.