I'm sorry it took so long guys, but the good news is I'm all installed in my new, own appartment, so I can commit to my story again during my time off! For now, forget what a bad updater I am and please, enjoy the story!

Damon-The floor is yours.

Chapter 11

6 months later

The moon above was full, bathing the dark room in an eerie blue light. Fog hung thick in the air, blocking the view from the floor-to-ceiling windows on the clearing below. The people inside the room didn't mind, though. They had other things on their mind.

Damon's lips ran over her golden skin, tasting salt, tasting her. Her belly dipped and rose underneath his tongue, her muscles tensing, her toes curling.

Slowly, relishing every moment, he moved up her ribcage until he reached those plumb, luscious breasts of hers. God, he loved her breasts, loved the way they made her squirm at the slightest touch, the way they felt pressed against his chest.

She jerked in extasy when he sucked one of her erect nipples in his mouth, softly scraping it with his teeth.

"Damon," she whimpered, her hips rocking against his length, her fingers clutching the sheets as if her life depended on it.

He moved up her body until he came face to face with the woman he loved above all others.

"Yes, Love?" he growled, his voice hoarse with unsatisfied desire.

"Stop teasing," she whispered, pressing burning kisses up his jaw until those wet lips feathered his ear as she moaned, "I want you."

He closed his eyes, growling deep in his throat, trying not to come on the spot. Here was a girl who could finish Damon Salvatore with mere words. Who would've thought such a woman existed? Certainly not him. He'd never imagined he would ever find someone like her.

"You want me, huh?" he rumbled, forcing his hand between them, cupping her sex. "Oh, you do. So wet, miss Gilbert."

He guided a finger inside of her, his eyes never leaving hers. He loved the look of those brown depths as he pleasured her, made her come.

"God," she moaned, arching her back. "Damon, please."

"Please what?" he rasped, feeling her tighten around his finger. "Tell me what you want, Love."

"You know."

He plunged another finger in, making her dig her nails in his back, no doubt drawing blood. He didn't mind though. In fact, he loved it. Elena Gilbert wasn't an angel in bed, not at all. She was fierce, knew what she liked and wasn't afraid to ask for it. "Say it, Love. Tell me what you want?"

"You," she whimpered, her legs tightening around his waist. "I want you."

He would never get tired of hearing that.

Breathing heavily, he pressed his forehead against hers, watching her mouth open in a mute scream as he drove himself into her. Growling, Damon's lips descended on hers. Her tongue found his immediately, teasing, demanding as he withdrew and entered her over and over again, finding their rhythm.

"Oh, God!" she cried out, her body on the brink of release. "I love you, Damon! I love you so much!"

Damon's eyes snapped open, the pain in his groin matching the pain in his heart. Snarling, he got out of bed, heading for yet another cold shower. He'd been having the same dream for months now. Well, not exactly the same, but it always had the same theme.

Elena.

Making love to Elena.

Hearing her say she loved him as much as he loved her.

As if it wasn't torture enough to have her around him every single day, always close but never within his reach. No, she had to haunt him in his dreams, too. Very vivid dreams. Dreams that made it even harder to be around her, that made it even harder to fight his urges, that made many things harder, actually.

But he had no choice but to fight it. It was being her friend or being nothing at all. And as painful of a torture it was to have her around, he couldn't even imagine the alternative.

So, after a long shower, he dried off, got dressed and prepared for another day.

If there is a God, he hates me.

Damon stood in the kitchen doorway, his hands shoved in the pockets of his leather jacket for one reason and one reason alone. To keep himself from taking her right there, on the floor, until she screamed his name. Repeatedly.

Elena was making scrambled eggs, wearing only a large, white shirt and dancing to whatever music her IPod was blasting in her ears. She looked unbelievable. Angelic. Although he doubted many angels danced half naked in kitchens. With wet hair. Hair where tiny drops of water were trickling down from, drops that slid down her shoulders and chest until they disappeared under her shirt..to places he could only dream of...which he did.

He growled under his breath just as she twirled with the pan in her hand. The moment she saw him, her heart skipped and the scrambled eggs slipped out of her fingers. Impulsively, he flung towards the pan, snatching it up right before it hit the ground.

A move he regretted immediately.

Cursing under his breath, he threw the scorching hot pan in the sink, fisting his hands.

"Damon!" Elena hurried, throwing her IPod on the table.

"I'm fine," he rumbled, feeling his skin sizzle.

"You're a terrible liar, Salvatore."

He smiled despite the pain, meeting her gaze for the first time. How was it possible that, even after six months, the beauty of her eyes could still take his breath away.

"Come here," she ordered, grabbing him by the wrists and leading him to the sink. The cold water that poured over his burns felt good...but not as good as her fingertips caressing his palms, gently.

"It's already healed," she said after a minute.

"Vampire," he replied, matter-of-factly.

Her lips pulled up as she dapped a towel over his hands. "Sorry I injured you this early in the day."

"Would it have been better if it had happened later in the day?"

She smiled, turning off the running water. "You startled me, that's all. I wasn't expecting anyone. What are you doing here anyway?"

"Me?" he laughed. "I'm not the one making scrambled eggs at five in the morning, without pants."

Clearly, Elena hadn't realized her half-nakedness, not until he'd pointed it out. Self-consciously, she started tugging at the hem of her shirt, like it would somehow grow a few inches by doing so. Obviously, it didn't...but it did make him grow a few inches, 'cause with every tug, her neckline plunged.

"Like I said, I wasn't expecting company."

"Really? You're living in a house filled with vampires and you didn't expect anyone to walk in on you?"

"I'll have you know I've been doing this for three months now and this has never happened before."

"How is that possible?" Damon asked intrigued, leaning back against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest.

"I researched it."

"You researched it?" Damon snickered.

"Yes," she sang, plopping down on the kitchen table. "Look, I'm human. The only human since Lexi turned her husband. And I need breakfast. You vamps don't eat breakfast. Or lunch. Or dinner. You just go out and feed or tap into the blood bags some of you keep in your rooms. But I need to eat food. Real food. So, I carried out a little investigation and I noticed that between three and six in the morning you're all fast asleep. So I wake up."

Damon grinned. "You did all that to eat your breakfast?"

"I did all that to eat my breakfast in peace," she said, heading for the fridge. "I don't know if you've noticed, but privacy is rare in this house...and I need my privacy. I need my space from people every once in a while."

"Oh," Damon mumbled, straightening up. "Right. I get it. Sorry."

He was about to head for the door when she laughed, plopping a bagel on her plate. "I wasn't talking about you, Salvatore. I don't need space from you."

He grinned.

"Don't get smug," she smiled. "I got used to you, that's all."

"Well, I am an acquired taste. Like a nice wine."

"Or an moldy cheese."

He laughed and once again, he realized how much more he was doing that since she'd entered his life.

"Anyway," she sang, turning her back on him to put her plate in the sink. "The sun's coming up soon and I kind of make a point of it to watch as many sunrises as I can, so−"

Damon had stopped listening as soon as she'd turned. As soon as he'd seen the marks between her shoulder blades. That's when the atmosphere in the room changed from playful to tense.

"What's that?"

Her hand followed his gaze, her eyes dropping when she felt the tiny cuts. "I cut myself in the shower."

"While shaving your back?"

"Damon−" she sighed.

"You promised!" he barked, straightening up. "You were going to end it!"

"I did!"

"I'm not the only one who's a terrible liar, Gilbert! You've been training with him behind my back, haven't you?"

"Fine," she snapped, gluing her hands to her hips. "Yes, I have."

"And now you're hurt!"

"We were sword fighting! Your brother didn't intend to hurt me, but I'm getting too fast for his reflexes! And that means one thing: I'm getting better."

"Actually," Damon snarled. "It means two things. One, my brother is an even more inadequate vampire than I already knew he was and two, he's a dead man."

"Damon, come on!"

"No, don't come on me! You're wounded!"

"It's just a little cut!"

"As far as I can tell!"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Take of your shirt!"

Her breath caught in her throat. "Excuse me?"

"Take. It. Off." He growled.

She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "No!"

He took a threatening step forward, she took one back, grabbing a knife out of the kitchen block.

"What do you think a little knife is going to do?" he snarled.

"Depends on where I put it."

He sniffed. "That shirt's coming off, Gilbert."

"Try, Salvatore."

"Okay."

It took exactly one second before the weapon was on the floor and Elena was pushed back against the wall, her eyes wide.

Little puffs of her warm breath hit Damon's face, her scent invading him, making him burn. Everywhere. This is why Damon tended to avoid being this close to her. Even after six months, he still couldn't touch her without yearning to kiss her, pull her against him, make her moan like she'd done that night in the rain… In fact, if anything, it had gotten worse. Being with her, wanting her, had become a gnawing need, a throbbing desire that was there constantly. Even when she was nowhere in sight, it was there, under his skin. She was there.

"See," he growled, trying to keep the lust out of his voice. "All that training is worthless, Elena. You're no match against a real vampire, no matter how hard you train. You will always be just a human."

"I may be just a human," she bit out. "But I'm also a fighter! I fought my way out of things, through things, that should've killed me! And that made me who I am today! I fight! I stand up! I'm not the sort of woman who just sits at home, waiting for the men to return from battle!"

Damon growled, frustrated. "Look, you can get as worked up as you'd like Elena, but there's no way in hell you will ever face Klaus. Or fight in any of our battles against him."

"You might not have a say in the matter, Damon!"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"What if you're out, fighting, and Klaus finds this place and attacks? Then what?"

"Then there are about twenty more vampires inside these walls who will stand their ground."

She glared at him, her eyes shooting fire. But there was something else besides anger in those eyes too, something that made it feel like an icy hand had reached into Damon's chest, clutching his heart.

Sadness.

Her gaze was sated with it.

"What is this really about, Elena?" he asked, watching her closely.

She swallowed hard, the sadness taking over her entire face before she said in a soft voice, "In six months, we went from one list of casualties to eight. Eight, Damon. Vampires who came inside this house, who I talked to, and who never returned."

"Elena−"

"I can't just sit back and watch as more and more vampires go to their deaths. It makes me feel so powerless. And I hate that feeling, Damon. I've felt that way before, for too long. Like a victim, like it's out of my hands and I swore I'd never feel that way again. That's why I taught myself to fight as soon as I escaped him. You can't ask me to stay behind now. You can't ask me to do nothing."

"Elena," he rumbled. "I love your spirit, your strength. I really do. I've never met a woman who has more fire in her heart than you have."

She smiled.

"But that fire is going to get you killed," he continued, making her lips drop. "And won't let that to happen. So, I'm sorry, but I won't allow you to leave this Safe House."

Elena's hands balled up in fists. "First of all, I'm going to do you a favor and pretend you didn't use the word allow just now," she hissed. "And secondly, I would like to remind you that another man once tried to keep me locked away and I think me being here proves I'm not a woman who's easily kept against her will."

"Don't even think about sneaking out, Gilbert," he snapped. "I'm serious."

"If I want to leave, you can't stop me."

"Try me."

Elena snorted, defiantly raising her chin. "Sorry, Salvatore, I'm calling your bluff. I don't believe you'd ever hold me against my will."

"To keep you safe?" he rumbled. "You better believe it. I won't have your death on my conscience!"

"But it's okay for mine to be burdened with yours?"

Damon frowned. "Elena, it's not your fault that Klaus is after me."

"Do you think knowing that will comfort me the day you don't walk back through that door?"

"That won't happen."

"You can't guarantee that."

"I'm hard to kill."

"You're one sharp stick away from dying!"

"Elena−"

"What am I supposed to do if you die?"

"Like I said, there's a house full of vampires who will protect you if I−"

"You think this is about me?" Elena shrieked. "You think I'm worried about my safety? Are you really that thick?"

And that's when he saw it. In her eyes. That light. That spark. He'd seen it before, in his dreams...but it couldn't mean what it meant in his imagination. It couldn't possibly. She'd told him she could never feel that way. About anyone.

"God," she whispered, breaking the silence. "You're such an idiot."

Her gaze dropped and before Damon could react, she was rushing past him. He hadn't even realized he'd grabbed her and pushed her back against the wall.

Not until her searching eyes met his again, widened in surprise.

Not until he noticed her cheeks were blooming a brighter pink.

Not until he felt himself...stiffen.

He could feel the subtle sizzle of electricity under his fingers where he touched her skin and suddenly, Damon became very aware of the fact that all that was stopping him from acting out his dreams, were a pair of silk panties and a thin cotton shirt. Nothing he couldn't rip of her in a second.

She licked her lips and he prayed. Prayed for control. Prayed for the fantasies of what he could do with those lips to cease. Christ, he wanted to kiss her so badly.

"Elena," he whispered, simply because he liked hearing it, liked the way her name rolled off his tongue.

The room seemed smaller and warmer, as if a hot, humid cloud of desire had descended on them.

But he couldn't give in.

She wanted to be friends.

Nothing more.

He could never have her the way he yearned to. Body and soul. She would never want him that way.

So why wasn't she moving? Distancing herself from him? She must be feeling the tension, the electricity, the heat.

Why wasn't she getting away from it?

Damon took a deep breath to calm his raging lust as his fingers moved down her neckline.

"Damon−" she whispered.

"I still have to check for wounds my brother left behind," he growled, popping the first button.

"There are no wounds," she whimpered.

"I'll be the judge of that."

"Damon, you-"Her words evaporated into thin air as he slowly trailed his fingertips to the second button, caressing her skin on the way down.

Her shirt fell open even more, but Damon remained in control…until she suddenly reached out and stroked his raven hair out of his face, her fingers caressing his cheek as she did. It was such a sweet gesture and her eyes were so full of warmth and worry as she did it…

Suddenly, countless memories of dreams flooded his senses, blocked his common sense and before he knew he was doing it, his lips were on her jaw.

God, her skin tasted even better than he'd remembered, than he'd dreamt. How was that even possible? How could something top his imagination? And what else would be even better that he'd dreamed?

His teeth scraped her sensitive skin and he felt her fingers running through his hair in response, tugging, but not to make him stop.

She liked it.

He could hear it in her heart, in her blood, in her breath.

His lust turned into a frenzy as she fisted his jacket, pulling herself closer to him.

Eagerly, he moved his kiss up to her cheekbone, to her nose…and then he lingered. Over her beautiful, wet lips. Her ragged breath mixed in with his, her scent touching his tongue, making it so he could already taste her.

"Tell me to kiss you," he rasped.

Elena's hands found his shoulders, clutching them as she pressed her forehead to his. How could anyone smell that good?

"Tell me," he demanded. "Let me kiss you."

She swallowed hard. "Klaus−"

"Ssssshhhh," he shushed, cupping her neck. "There is no Klaus. No war. Just you and me."

"But I have to−"

"All you have to do, is kiss me," he rumbled. "Just give in."

"I want to."

His hand on her neck pushed her even closer, his heart jumping at her confession. His lips moved in, almost touching hers when she whispered, "But−"

Damon's eyes closed in frustration, in pain, in grief. "I really hate that word."

"Damon, I'm not trying to hurt you. I'm trying to do the opposite actually."

"No," Damon hissed. "The opposite would be you trying to give me pleasure and I'm pretty sure−"

"Damon, stop," she said, pulling her shirt closed. "Don't."

He sniffed, taking a step back from her. It felt so wrong not having her in his arms, not feeling her against him. It felt like he was letting go of a part of him he never knew he 'd been missing. A part he now craved more than anything else in this world.

"Why do you always have to do this?" Elena sighed.

"Do what?"

"You know what," she snapped. "You always have to push this friendship to its limits."

"Maybe it needs new limits."

"No, it doesn't. It shouldn't."

"Why not?"

"Because limits are there for a reason."

He growled, remembering the reason for her standoff-ish behavior. She'd been hurt before. Badly. But how could she not known by now that he would never hurt her.

"You're trying to protect yourself."

"Not just me!"

"What?"

"Look, Damon," she snapped, ignoring his confusion. "It is as it is, okay. We're friends, nothing more. It will never be more. I won't let it."

"So, I was just a fool thinking that maybe, just maybe, after half a year, side by side, your feelings had somewhat grown?"

"Yes, you were a fool. You are a fool," she said, her eyes hard. "I will never love you, Damon Salvatore. I can't."

And with that, she left him in that kitchen, wishing he'd never left his bed.

Wishing he'd never left that dream.

Wishing he'd never left his heart with her.

Please, leave a review behind! I wanna know what you guys think of the story, where you think it's headed, which characters you'd like to 'show up'...! I just LOVE your comments and I even love it when you guys urge me to write (sometimes annoyed or angrily)! It makes me feel appreciated :p :p! Until soon, I PROMISE!

xxx LustAndLove