Disclaimer: Not my characters, obviously. Just playing in their world for a while.
Next up: Lots of DE goodness. LOTS. (Tove Lo's "Talking Body" was on a constant loop in my head while I was writing a particular scene in this chapter, so I'll let you draw your own conclusions. AKA, smut warning. ;)) Also, Klaus takes his frustration out on Stefan, and Elijah makes a unfortunate realization.
Enjoy!
Chapter Eleven
"Want more? There's one bag left in the cooler." Elena offered up the last of their blood supply, but Damon shook his head.
"I'm good. Thanks."
"Alright. I'll pick up more tomorrow." She pushed the cooler aside and reached for the brown paper bag on the table. "Special delivery from Ric," she explained, pulling the bottle out and spinning it around so he could see the label. "He didn't want us to go without."
"Nice. I could get used to this."
Damon was lying on the bed, dressed in a black tank top and jeans, his bare feet crossed at the ankles. They'd settled into a routine over the past two days, and Elena had discovered that as long as there was enough blood and bourbon, he stayed satisfied. She kept herself busy planning Stefan's escape, checking with Caroline for updates on any rumors that might be circulating at HQ, and calling Elijah to tell him whatever she thought he wanted to hear.
"No luck yet, but a couple bodies turned up. He might be on his way back to Mystic Falls. I'll head there in a few days if the trail goes cold."
He seemed pleased with her fabricated efforts to recapture Damon, so she left it at that. If Caroline reported that he was starting to get itchy, she'd come up with a new tactic.
Elena cracked open the bottle and filled her glass. "This is probably a stupid question, but do you want some?" she asked, tilting it in Damon's direction.
"The stupidest," he confirmed. "Of course I do." She passed him a glass, and he took a sip, his eyes never leaving her. That was his favorite hobby: Elena watching. Whenever she looked up, he was staring at her. Sometimes, she found the sheer intensity of it unsettling. Other times, it made her heart pound and sent her blood racing through her veins. "I never pictured you as a bourbon drinker," he commented.
"Blame Alaric. It's all he drinks."
"Hmm. You spend a lot of time with him?" he asked.
She bristled at the suspicion in his voice. "Not that it's any of your business, but we're friends. I hang out with him when I need to unwind." He scowled, and she threw the bottle cap at him. He caught it, the surly look remaining on his face. "Get your mind out of the gutter. It's not like that."
"If you say so." He didn't sound convinced, but she wasn't going to argue with him. His gaze continued to track her every movement until she couldn't ignore it any longer.
"Do I have something on my face?"
"No. Why?"
"You're staring at me. Constantly. It's making me twitchy," she confessed.
He shrugged. "What am I supposed to do? Stare out the window all day? You're the only thing worth looking at."
Ooookay. Heat blossomed beneath her skin at his admission. How the hell did she respond to that? "Uh . . ."
He nursed his bourbon, finally breaking eye contact for a few blessed moments. "Since you know all about me and my family, why don't you tell me something about you? You're as much of a mystery to me now as you were when we first came here."
She had to hand it to him—he was good at diffusing awkward situations. "We haven't even been here a week, Damon. You make it sound like it's been years."
"You're avoiding the question."
Probing blue eyes bored into hers again, and she sighed in defeat. "There's not a whole lot to tell."
"Humor me. Any family?"
"My parents died when I was young. No siblings. I've been on my own for as long as I can remember," she revealed.
"How'd you fall in with Elijah and his merry band of hunters?"
"I met him five years ago. I was fighting a feral vampire when he found me. Said I had potential and offered me a job. I took him up on it because I thought it would be a way to do something worthwhile. Fight the good fight and all that. I didn't go into it knowing what his master plan was, if that's what you're trying to pry out of me," she countered.
"It's not," Damon muttered. "Since when is curiosity a crime?" he asked with a lift of his brow.
"Sorry. I'm just not big on discussing my life." Elena didn't realize she was pacing like a caged animal until Damon crooked a finger at her. "What?"
"You're gonna wear a hole in the carpet, which I'm sure Bonnie won't appreciate. Take a load off." She started toward the chair, but he patted the empty spot beside him on the bed. "Oh, c'mon. I won't bite. This time," he clarified with a grin.
"How reassuring," she deadpanned, reluctantly taking him up on his offer. She settled on the edge furthest from him, one leg dangling off the side.
"That looks comfortable. Half your ass is hanging in mid-air." He tugged on her belt loop until all of her was resting on the bed. "There. Better?"
"Yeah, I guess so," she murmured.
They laid there drinking in companionable silence until she felt her lids droop. She briefly considered hopping into the chair and leaving him the bed, but she was too sleepy to move. Setting her glass on the table, she nestled deeper into the pillows and closed her eyes. She didn't hear Damon turn out the light, nor did she feel him pull the blanket over her.
###
The cell door burst open with such force that the hinges almost tore away from the wall. Before Stefan could draw a breath, Klaus was in his face, his mouth pulled down in a vicious frown and the promise of violence in his wild eyes.
"Damon's been loose for more than forty-eight hours, and still Elijah refuses to let me hunt him," he roared. "Do you have any idea how that feels? To know that your brother trusts his pet more than his own flesh and blood?" When Stefan stayed mute, Klaus grabbed his chin in a brutal grip. "Well?"
"No," he whispered. "I don't."
"Of course not. Damon's such a good brother, isn't he?" he spat. Releasing Stefan, he stalked over to an old wooden chest tucked away in the corner and lifted the lid, intently perusing its contents. "It must be comforting knowing that he's frolicking about while you're being tortured to within an inch of your life." He selected an object from the chest and approached his prisoner once more, revealing his weapon of choice.
"He thinks I'm dead. You made sure of that," Stefan pointed out in a dull voice. He cringed at the sight of the whip's long tail where it was looped around Klaus's hand. It was no use trying to protest; his struggles and pleas only increased the bastard's excitement. He warily looked on as Klaus took a small vial from his jacket pocket and removed the stopper, carefully sprinkling its contents onto the leather.
Fresh vervain.
Stefan refused to react, focusing instead on bracing himself for the impending beating. The effort became more difficult when Klaus shook the excess vervain from the whip, droplets peppering Stefan's chest, face, and arms until he hissed in pain. "What if he knew you were still alive? Do you think he'd rescue you?" Klaus taunted. "Maybe he's happier without you."
"You must really enjoy the sound of your own voice. If you're gonna torture me, get on with it. Don't talk me to death," Stefan snarled.
"So you say, but let's see how long it takes before you're begging me to stop." Klaus stepped closer, his lips brushing Stefan's ear. "Every time the lash tears into your skin and the agonizing burn of the vervain drives you closer and closer to madness, I want you to think of your brother as he revels in a world in which Stefan Salvatore no longer exists."
Klaus let the words sink in for a moment before he drew back his arm and snapped the whip, landing a blow across Stefan's torso. His captive jerked, gritting his teeth as blood oozed from the gash, and Klaus amused himself by pondering how many strokes it would take before the younger vampire's wounds left him completely broken.
###
Elena woke to the mingled aromas of bacon, bourbon, and the woodsy-smelling soap Damon had been using in the shower. She took a deep breath, savoring the unusual combination. A soft exhale followed by the sensation of bare skin brushing against her arm roused her the rest of the way. She cracked open an eye to discover Damon's face a whisper away from hers, his head lying half on his pillow and half on hers, their lips nearly close enough to touch.
She pulled back slightly, just enough to avoid making herself cross-eyed while she studied the sleeping vampire. It was unusual to see him so vulnerable, the snarky comments and cynicism he wielded like weapons temporarily sheathed.
Long, dark lashes stood out against his pale skin, his cheeks roughened by a few days' worth of stubble. The urge to reach out and comb her fingers through his disheveled hair struck her in its unexpectedness.
I don't even really know him, but in some ways, I feel like I do . . .
"Ogling me while I'm sleeping?" Damon's raspy voice interrupted her mental debate.
"Hey, fair is fair. Your eyes are glued to me at least eighteen hours a day," she pointed out.
As if on cue, said eyes snapped open, his pupils shrinking in the morning light until they became tiny specs in a sea of blue. "Touché." He brushed a finger down her arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. "You stayed. I half expected to find you asleep in the bathtub or some shit."
She rubbed her arm in an attempt to soothe the not-unwelcome sensation his touch had created. "The bed was too comfortable."
"Mmhmm."
Eager to derail his wayward train of thought, she quickly changed the subject. "You asked questions yesterday, so now it's my turn."
"Really?" he said with a sigh. "You already dug up all the dirt on me, remember?"
"Not all of it." She hesitated before starting off with something that had been bothering her since Elijah had first filled her in on the situation. "After Stefan was taken, why didn't you just assume your family's power and deal with Elijah and Klaus that way instead of going on a killing spree?"
"Wow. Couldn't pick an easier one?" he griped. When she continued to stare at him in silence, he rolled his eyes. "Fine. I considered it, but that would've taken too long. I didn't have the patience for all that formal bullshit."
"So you chose murder instead."
"I wasn't joking that day you found me, Elena. Those weren't innocents. They were people who'd gotten away with things they shouldn't have gotten away with. Elijah never bothered checking into their backgrounds, or maybe he did but just ignored it because it didn't suit his agenda," he explained.
"You had an easy enough time attacking me," she muttered.
"I was trying to draw them out. I expected Elijah and Klaus to show up, not you. Truth be told, my mind was a little fucked up at that point. Everyone associated with the Mikaelsons and their self-righteous façade was considered fair game."
"Huh" was the only response she could muster. She was surprised and slightly thrown by his honesty.
"Happy now?" he asked, a single brow arched as if daring her to find fault with his story.
"I'm not happy about any of it, Damon—what happened to your parents, to you and Stefan, and finding out that it all leads back to the corrupt bastard I've been working for all along? Doesn't give me the warm fuzzies," she snapped. In a flurry of movement, she was out of bed and walking toward the door. "Thank you for telling me. I'm gonna grab some breakfast. Bonnie's cooking smells too good to ignore, and I haven't had real food in too long. I'll bring some back for you if you want." She stopped to glance at him over her shoulder.
"Sounds good," he murmured, the faraway look on his face indicating that he didn't really care one way or the other.
###
Notice anything weird lately?
No. Pretty quiet here. U and Damon have all the sex yet? :*
NO
Haha j/k! Will let u know if things change.
Thnx. Later.
Elena sent the last text to Caroline before reaching into the newly restocked cooler for a bag of blood. While Damon was showering, she wanted to take advantage of the brief respite to collect her thoughts. He'd been unusually quiet since their discussion yesterday morning. She could deal with his sass, but the silent treatment? Not like him.
She tore off the corner of the bag and was about to take her first sip when the door opened to reveal Mr. Moody himself. He was wearing his usual dark jeans, but he seemed to have misplaced his shirt. Also his towel, she noted as she watched a droplet of water slide down his back.
"At least he's wearing pants," she muttered.
"I heard that."
"Hungry?" she asked, gesturing to the cooler.
He padded over to inspect the contents. "This is full. When did you get more?"
"I made a run while you were in the shower."
"Huh. So you trust me now?" he asked with a sly grin.
To keep from answering, she gulped down a few mouthfuls of blood. The hole she'd made in the bag was bigger than she'd intended, and she felt a few drops leak from the corner of her mouth. Lifting a hand to wipe it away, she was unprepared when Damon caught her wrist and used his thumb to collect the excess blood before popping it in his mouth to lick clean.
The sight would've been comical if Damon weren't so . . . Damon. As it was, her heart was racing, and she knew if she looked into a mirror, she'd see that her pupils had exploded in anticipation of the feed. Still, she couldn't resist the chance to crack a joke. "You don't have to pout and suck your thumb. I brought enough for you, too," she said, a slight shakiness to her voice.
He chuckled, but his smile quickly faded. "I was thinking that I owe you an apology for the whole trying-to-kill-you thing. So, sorry about that." He dragged a hand through his hair before continuing. "And thanks for, uh, saving my life," he finished, staring at the floor instead of her for once. "I realized I never said anything about it."
Whoa. "Um, no problem. That must've been quite the shower you took if it led to all those epiphanies." She laughed a little to try and diffuse some of the awkwardness and tension, but it didn't help. "Want some now?" she asked, sliding the cooler toward him.
He nodded and grabbed one of the bags. Remembering what it had been like to watch him feed in the cell at HQ, she stood and was about to turn away so she could finish her own meal when the sound of his voice made her stop.
"Stay. Please." The words were thick, the s more sibilant than usual. She turned to find him regarding her with his lips slightly parted, the tips of his fangs visible. She ran her tongue over her teeth and was unsurprised to find that her own fangs had joined the party.
She slowly sank back into the chair and carefully raised the bag to her mouth. She swallowed more of the life-sustaining liquid, her eyes locked on Damon's as he did the same, tearing into his bag as if he hadn't fed in months. His pupils were fully dilated, and she found herself unable to look away from the sight of him.
Elena drained hers first, crumpling the empty bag in her fist. She rose to toss it in the trash, panting softly as the effects of the blood rushed through her system. An inarticulate sound—somewhere between a growl and a purr—ripped out of Damon, and before she could react, she found herself pressed against the wall, his body flush with hers, his damp skin beneath her suddenly trembling hands.
"Damon!" she gasped, arching into him as his mouth found her throat and latched on, sucking and nipping at the sensitive skin.
"Can't wait any longer," he rasped. "Want you."
Everywhere he touched her, sparks ignited, searing away everything until all that remained was him. "Yes," she hissed, her tongue darting out to catch a bead of water inching its way down his chest. If the blaze was going to consume them, they might as well burn together.
Her hands ghosted down his torso, muscles contracting beneath her touch. Fingers flirted with the waistband of his jeans before slipping inside and curling around the hard length of his cock. She gave him an experimental squeeze, and he snarled a curse, his head falling onto her shoulder.
"Christ, Elena," he gritted out. She deftly popped the button and dragged down the zipper, giving her better access to his straining arousal. She stroked him, alternating between teasing caresses and the occasional firm tug until his breath was coming in ragged pants. He let her play for a few more moments before brushing her hands away. "Not that I'm not enjoying this thoroughly, but . . ." he trailed off as he grabbed the hem of her cami and pulled it over her head, letting the discarded garment drop to the floor. Her jeans were next to go, Damon practically tearing them in half in his impatience to be rid of them.
When she was left with only a scrap of black lace to cover her, he paused to take in her near nudity, his eyes roving over every inch of skin he'd revealed. "Beautiful," he murmured, cupping her breasts and rubbing his thumbs over her already hard nipples. He dipped his head, taking one into his mouth and biting down just hard enough to make her squeal.
Her fingers tangled in his hair, her grip tightening with every pleasurable sensation that rocketed through her. "Damon," she moaned, "kiss me." The words had hardly left her lips before his mouth was on hers, his tongue thrusting in and then slowly retreating, mimicking the way he wanted to fuck her.
Elena's arms snaked around his waist, holding him close as she writhed against him, desperate for the friction she craved. She reluctantly broke the kiss, her fevered gaze meeting his. "Lose the jeans," she whispered.
"Only if these go, too." He hooked a finger in the flimsy fabric of her panties, arching a playful brow.
"Go for it." There was a sharp yank followed by the snap of elastic, and Damon was holding up the ruined garment like it was a prize he'd won. "Caveman," Elena chided. She was about to scold him for destroying her favorite pair of underwear when he sank to his knees in front of her, hooked her leg over his shoulder, and put his mouth to her sex.
"Jesus," she breathed as he grinned up at her, heated blue eyes studying her every reaction. She watched, mesmerized, as his tongue parted her slick folds and teased its way to her clit with slow, lazy strokes. When she started to lose her footing, he quickly gripped her hips to keep her steady.
Her eyes slid closed as he began to lap at her in earnest as if she were the sweetest treat he'd ever tasted. The tip of his tongue penetrated her while he worked his thumb over her clit in tight circles, driving her into a frenzy of need. She could feel her orgasm building with every flick and nip. So close. "Fuck, Damon," she groaned.
"Don't need to tell me twice," he murmured against her skin before scooping her up and depositing her on the bed. She barely had time to cry out at the loss of his talented mouth before it was replaced with the blunt head of his cock. He rubbed himself up and down her slit until she was on the verge of begging him to take her. Sweat beaded on his skin, and he exhaled a shaky breath as he glanced down at her where she lie sprawled out beneath him. "I can't do this slow, baby. I need to fuck you. Hard," he growled.
She met his gaze, unperturbed by the wild gleam in his eyes. "Then what are you waiting for?"
His answering smile was nothing short of wicked, and he thrust into her, burying himself deep. He paused briefly to let her body adjust before settling into a rhythm of long, rapid strokes that had her biting her lip until she tasted blood. She wrapped her legs around his waist, doing her best to keep up with the frantic tempo when every movement was pushing her closer to the edge.
A hand fisted in her hair, easing her head back and giving him better access to her throat. She shivered as the tips of his fangs traced her carotid, and she waited for him to sink his teeth into her vein, but the bite never came. Instead, he pulled away, watching her with hooded eyes. He tilted his hips, and she arched off the bed with a strangled cry as his cock brushed against the sensitive patch of nerves guaranteed to make her see stars. "As much as I'd love to hear you scream for me, I don't want Bonnie to come running thinking that I'm killing you," he ground out between clenched teeth.
"I might have a solution for that," she managed, her mind in danger of fuzzing out completely. Before she lost all control, she cupped the back of his neck and eased him closer so she could nuzzle his throat. His groan of pleasure spurred her on as she nipped at the skin just beneath his ear. The punishing pace he'd set was becoming more and more erratic, telling her that he was close, too.
"That's it, Elena. Bite me while I make you come." The erotic vision created by his words was all the encouragement she needed. She swirled her tongue over his vein and placed a kiss there, his blood pumping furiously beneath her lips. Knowing her release was fast approaching, she reared back and buried her fangs in his throat. The first taste of his blood caused her entire body to spasm, and she tightened around him in orgasmic bliss, her scream of ecstasy muffled against his neck.
He immediately followed her over the edge, biting her shoulder to mask his own shout. They drank from each other, both of them caught in the unending web of sensation they'd woven. When they finally collapsed in a sated heap, Elena closed Damon's wound with a swipe of her tongue while he laved the puncture marks he'd left behind.
Keeping them joined, he rolled over, tucking Elena against his chest. She drew invisible patterns on his skin, soaking up the peaceful aftermath of their coupling. Unable to stifle a yawn, she let her eyes slide shut as Damon pressed a kiss to her forehead. Taking advantage of a quiet moment in the midst of the insanity that had become their lives, she drifted off to sleep, safe and content in Damon's arms.
###
The pen in Elijah's hand tapped out a staccato rhythm on the legal pad wedged beneath his arm. He glanced up at his brother, who was seated across from him with a sour look on his face. Then again, that appeared to be Niklaus's default setting as of late.
"Having fun with all your bloody tapping?" he snarled. "I thought you asked me here because you had something important you wanted to discuss."
"Yes, there is that," Elijah conceded. "How shall I put this? I fear Elena has—what's the phrase—gone off the grid?"
"Why? What have you heard?"
"Nothing, and that's just the problem. It's not like her to be so . . . evasive, and I never expected the search to take this long. Elena is efficient beyond measure. Look how quickly she captured him last time," he pointed out.
"So you think they're in league with each other now. Fucking wonderful. You should've let me kill them when I had the chance," Klaus snapped.
"I didn't believe her capable of this level of betrayal," Elijah confessed. "Such a shame. Ah, well. There's nothing to be done for it now except to clean up the mess and move on." He paused as he studied his brother. "I have a task for you, one I think you'll quite enjoy."
"What's that?" came the wary response.
"We have no further use for Stefan. Dispose of him in whatever way you see fit, but don't delay," he instructed. "The sooner this debacle meets its end, the better."
"Your wish, my command," Klaus drawled, a cruel smile curling his lips.
Neither was aware of the blonde vampire hovering outside of Elijah's office, a look of horror encompassing her pretty features as she listened in on their conversation, nor were they there to observe her dashing down the hallway to place a warning call to her friend.