Greetings! Sorry for the weeks of absence... I really didn't want to leave you hanging, but I've been working 50hrs/wk and also um... Harry Potter. And A Dance With Dragons. And... yeah. Even disregarding external distractions, I took my time here because I did want to take care to make this chapter as good as possible. I'm really trying to focus on keeping our favorite pair in character, and sometimes that means rewriting a few times before I click "publish..." So thanks for your patience, and I very much hope you enjoy it! I've really enjoyed writing about it. And daydreaming about it. Um... Yeah. Thoughts and reactions are always appreciated! More soon, I promise. xoxoxox

As her lips met his Elena lost herself in the sensation, aware of nothing but the cool softness of his skin and the nearness of his body. Her heart was pounding and her mind, for once, was not racing but rather basking in the sweet simplicity of the moment.

Yes, she thought, yes.

It felt right, it felt good. This is what she'd been aching for to the point of pain for the past six weeks, and the taste of him both slaked her desire and stoked it.

Damon's lips responded to hers as though he couldn't help it, but she noticed that he kept his arms close by his sides with an almost military stiffness. She pulled back slightly to meet his eyes and was distraught to see pain the the clear blue depths. Knitting her brow, she looked at him quizzically.

"God, Elena," he whispered hoarsely, "you're killin' me here."

That was not the reaction she'd been hoping for. She told him as much, suddenly feeling foolish and self conscious, and wrapped her arms around herself defensively.

"Don't get me wrong," he said, "God knows I've dreamed about having you kiss me of your own free will when I'm not on the verge of death... but... right now I haven't eaten in a few days, and my control isn't really where it should be. I'm in no mood for your teasing."

"I wasn't teasing," she replied in a small voice, hurt. This was so not what she'd wanted.

Damon stared at her for a long time with his most closed off and inscrutable expression, then sighed and said, "Let's go home."

He opened her door for her again, and, not knowing what else to do or say, she got in.

They drove in silence for a while, the first truly awkward silence in the history of their tempestuous friendship. Elena couldn't help but feel like she'd done something horribly wrong. But... wasn't this what he'd wanted? Didn't he want her to want him? Hadn't they almost kissed less than ten minutes ago on the dance floor at the prom? Had he only let that happen because he was hungry and distracted? By the time they pulled up outside the boarding house she was confused and miserable.

As they walked inside Damon spoke a single word, in a voice carefully picked clean of any emotion. The hollow sound of it made Elena feel ill.

"Why?"

Because "It is much easier to live with the things we've done than the things we never did," she thought. Because if you walked out of my life as nothing but a "what-if" I would want to die.

Aloud she said, "Because I wanted to."

He laughed cruelly.

"Lovely," he said in a too-cheerful voice, "So I guess we can check that off your to-do list."

"That's not how it was," she spat out, "and if I thought for one second you were going to be such a dick about it I never would have done it."

"Come now, Elena. Haven't we established I'm the big, bad, big brother? You can always count on me to be a dick."

He smiled at her, and he wanted to cry because it was a cold, empty, cruel smile she hadn't seen in weeks. Why was he doing this? She looked away.

"You're upset with me," he observed as though the fact was mildly surprising.

"Forget it," she said dismissively and started to walk up the stairs to her room. He used his supernatural speed to run past her and block her way.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Princess. Next time you feel like using me as an emotional punching bag I'll just open my arms and be sure to welcome it."

"That isn't-"

"Next time you feel like being a naughty girl for a few minutes I'll be sure to be appropriately appreciative of whatever scraps you feel like throwing my way."

"Damon you don't-"

"Next time you feel like slaking your hormones just a little bit I'll be sure to-"

"SHUT UP!" she shouted, slamming both palms into his chest before stumbling back to put some distance between them. "I'm not fucking teasing you, Damon. I didn't kiss you to screw with your head, you idiot. I kissed you because I realized I'm in fucking love with you, though God knows I can't exactly remember why right now, you mean, petty fucking jerk."

The room felt deadly quiet in the wake of her outburst. Elena's heart and mind were racing. Why the hell had she just said that?

Because it's true.

It couldn't be true. She was in love with Stefan, not Damon.

"It's okay to love them both..."

No no no no no no no...

But her whole being resonated with the truth of her declaration, even through her anger and frustration. She absolutely did love this man, with all of her heart and soul.

Damon, for his part, appeared to be completely in shock. He'd dropped his arrogant bastard act and stood before her now with a bewildered look on his handsome face.

"What?" he asked meekly, sounding like a lost child despite all his many years.

She should have known his coldness was just a defense mechanism, that he was terrified to let her see what he was really thinking or feeling. Elena's anger evaporated instantly as she was overwhelmed with tenderness and the pressing need to take that lost and lonely boy in his arms and show him how much he truly meant to her.

"It's too late to backtrack now," she thought with a strange combination of relief and terror, "you might as well be honest... with yourself as much as to him."

"I said," she murmured, walking towards him again slowly, as one might approach a wounded animal, "I love you."

"Why?" he asked suspiciously in a near-whisper, wide-eyed, not moving a muscle, "Why now? What changed?"

She looked at him and met his eyes dead-on. This was a woman's decision; she would not blush like a little girl.

"I don't know what's going to happen tomorrow with Stefan. I don't even know if we'll both live through it. And you said you're leaving... If I never see you again..."

She stopped to swallow the painful lump in her throat.

"Even though I'm probably going to get in a world of trouble over it, if I let you walk out of my life without doing this I am absolutely certain I will regret it every day as long as I live."

His eyes started to fill with heat and desire as she spoke, but he still didn't move, so she went on.

"One night. Can't we just forget about the rest of the universe for one fucking night? It's not enough, I know it's not enough, but it's all we have. Please."

His stance relaxed almost imperceptibly.

"What about my brother?" he asked, still carefully guarded, obviously terrified to let her past his emotional defenses. "I thought it was always Stefan, that it would always be Stefan..."

Her stomach knotted as she thought of the younger Salvatore, lost and crazed and alone in the grip of a madman.

"I do love Stefan," she said honestly, "and I probably always will. Nothing has changed that. But I love you too. I've been trying not to, I think, but it's kind of hopeless. The thought of you leaving me makes me physically sick. I think about you almost constantly... I just... do. I love you. I love him. I can't help it. You must think I'm the most selfish bitch in the history of the world."

"Nah," he said with a teasing smile, "that title's been spoken for. But you look just like her."

She laughed aloud, overjoyed to hear the levity in his voice, and his eyes finally softened.

"So," he said, reaching out to run his fingertips over her jawline, "if I give you tonight, what happens tomorrow?"

She would not make promises she couldn't keep. She would not tell him pretty lies they were both too smart to believe. She met his eyes, basking in the growing heat of his gaze, and, with a coy smile, in her best southern drawl she quoted Scarlett O'Hara, saying, "I'll think about that tomorrow. After all, tomorrow is another day."

"It's not enough," he hissed, grabbing a fist-full of her hair and pulling her against his taught body.

"No," she agreed, holding his gaze even as she yielded to him, "but it's what we have."

One night, he thought , so little time...

But still, that was one night more than he'd ever expected. As he buried his hand in her hair he twisted it slowly, gripping hard enough to pull, and as she surrendered to him his desire, temporarily dampened by their difficult conversation, came surging back with a vengeance.

God, he loved this woman... this slip of a girl who wasn't scared of monsters, who constantly laid her life on the line for her friends and loved ones without question, who looked him in the eye and always told him the truth even when most people would lie... this strong, passionate, self-possessed woman, wise beyond her years, with the biggest heart he'd ever known and the ability to admit her mistakes.

This woman who loves you, he thought. One night...

Better make it count. If he had one night he fully intended to make it one neither of them would ever forget, and he wasn't going to do that dwelling on old emotional scars and pouting over things that could never be.

That's not the Damon she loves.

She loved him...

He growled low in his throat, a quiet, predatory sound. Her eyes opened wider at the sound and he heard her heartbeat speed up ever-so-slightly. He twisted his hand in her hair and she whimpered, trembling with anticipation, desire, and perhaps the slightest touch of fear. Her reaction made him forget every trace of his emotional insecurities as he was flooded with lust and he could feel his cock hardening with arousal, trapped between their bodies. She could feel it too, he knew, and smiled darkly at her. Moving in slow motion he leaned forward, inch by inch, until he could feel the heat of her breath on his face. He saw her eyes flutter closed and watched her delicious lips part in anticipation of his kiss... and then he turned his head to the side, bypassing her mouth entirely and leaning in to whisper against her ear, "Upstairs. My room. Now." Then he released her hair, stepping back and looking her over. She looked disoriented and blinked a few times, swaying to steady herself on her feet and support her own weight.

"What?" she asked, and her voice was low and husky.

"My room. Go. Now. And you're wearing far too many clothes."

With that he sped off, vampire fast, to the basement and proceeded to drink an entire bag of blood. She was so tempting, he thought, and he didn't trust himself not to harm her without taking the edge off of his hunger. The blood was cold and unsatisfying, but it filled his, slaking the ache in his teeth and jaw and allowing him to focus more fully on his other hungers.

He walked into his bedroom to find Elena, eyes dark with passion, leaning against the foot of his bed. She'd discarded her magnificent dress and her shoes, and now stood before him in a bra, half slip, and pantyhose with the collar of rubies still glittering temptingly against her hot throat. Her hair was mussed from his hands, and her cheeks were flushed. She looked both innocent and wanton, both an angel and a succubus wearing the face he'd loved for over a century.

Funny, that. He never saw Katherine when he looked at her anymore. She was herself, not a carbon copy. If you looked closely enough they were as different as night and day... Elena was her own person. And she loved him.

"Hi," she whispered, in a voice bordering on shyness. She looked at the carpet. Oh, this was going to be fun.

"I thought," he purred in a voice that had melted far harder women than Elena, "I told you that you were wearing too many clothes."

Her eyes grew wide and she glanced down at her undergarments. Her bare arms were covered in goosebumps as she stammered, "I mean, I thought..."

"You don't have to think," he interrupted, slowly walking towards her. "Tonight you belong to me. I will think. You will listen." He traced a finger up her front, lingering between her breasts for a moment and noticing her hardened nipples straining against the fabric. "Right now, what I think is that you are wearing too many clothes."

With that he took hold of her slip and her stockings in one hand, raked slashes in them with his fingernails and tore them effortlessly away from her body with a flick of his wrist.

She gasped. He reached behind her and unhooked the scrap of fabric she called a bra, which fell away to reveal her smooth, velvety breasts with their dark nipples tightened into achingly hard little points.

Unable to resist, he slid his hands down to rest on her hips and leaned forward, taking first one breast and then the other in his mouth, biting softly at the nipples , dragging his fingernails gently over her flesh as her hands flew up of their own volition to tangle in his hair.

Her skin was so soft. He wanted to kiss it, stroke it, caress it... brutalize it, mark it, make it bleed. The smell of her arousal made his cock even harder, engorged to the point of pain in the prison of his slacks. He had to taste her, had to touch her and know how wet she was, how swollen and tight she was... for him.

Still kneeling, he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of her panties and pulled down, leaving her naked in front of him. Her body tensed, he assumed with self-consciousness about her nudity. That wouldn't do. This woman, his woman, should never feel ashamed of her body. She should know how beautiful she was, should revel in it, should embrace her nakedness and sexuality. He clenched her hips firmly enough to make her gasp again, then leaned forward on his knees to lovingly kiss her vulva, flicking his tongue out to graze her clitoris as he did. She cried out and a fresh wave of dampness covered her thighs. She was so sensitive, he thought, this won't take long at all.

Then he got an idea.

He stood, raking his fingers over her ass and up her back as he did, leaning in to kiss her deeply with the salty, earthy taste of her arousal still on his lips. She moaned into his mouth and strained towards him, craving contact.

"Elena," he whispered, gripping her naked ass with one hand as the other came up to pinch a nipple and knead a breast, "how long has it been since you drank your vervain?"

She looked confused at the question, distracted by his touch.

"About a week," she confessed. "I know I should have... but... I wanted... I was hoping you would drink from me. I still wore my necklace...ah!"

She trailed off as he twisted her nipple hard.

"Your necklace?" he asked, "Where is it?" he fingered her throat, which was glittering with rubies, but had no trace of the silver chain that normally graced it.

Elena's eyes filled with fear for a moment and she tensed in his arms. He smiled wickedly, skimming his right hand down her flank to slip two fingers inside her hot, dripping core.

"I won't hurt you, Elena," he murmured close to her ear. "I'm going to make you feel good. So good. You want that, don't you?"

She whimpered.

"Don't you?" he repeated patiently.

"Yes..." she said and it came out as a breathy hiss as he rolled his thumb over her clitoris.

"I know. You're already about to come and I've barely touched you."

She looked into his eyes, her cheeks reddening at her own eagerness, her eyes black with desire. Damon had never seen anything so beautiful.

"You're going to come on my fingers at any moment now," he whispered, holding her gaze and twisting his hand. She cried out and her muscles fluttered around him. He looked deep into her eyes then, claiming her mind as he spoke.

"You may not," he compelled her.

"What?" she said, moaning with desire through her confusion.

"I said, he repeated, withdrawing his hand and pinching her outer lips with his fingers, "You may not come. You cannot have an orgasm tonight until I tell you to. No matter what."

Anger and arousal battled on her face as she realized what he was saying. Damon growled at the sight of her passion and he couldn't remember ever having wanted anything more in his life than he wanted this woman. His cock was weeping pre-come against the fly of his pants as she ground her pussy against his hand.

"You're evil," she groaned.

"And you love me," he said.

Then he grabbed her by the hips, threw her on her back on the bed, and the sight of her sprawling naked and flushed against the white feather comforter was the stuff of his dreams. He stared at her while he took off his own clothes, drinking in the hungry look on her face as he revealed every new inch of skin, and when he finally slid his pants over his hips and his rock-hard erection finally sprang free from its cage, God help him, she actually licked her lips. With a groan he dragged her to the edge of the bed, dropped to his knees, and buried his face in the hot wetness of her folds.

He licked, kissed, nipped, and moaned against her, holding her bucking hips still with one arm as he delved deep within her with two fingers from the other hand. It wasn't long before she was grinding against him with all her strength, whimpering and begging him to let her come. He ignored her pleas, though, stoking the fire within her to the point of pain, and it wasn't until her cries started to become tinged with desperation that he withdrew, looking at her wild, desire-filled eyes.

"Not yet," he said sweetly, kissing her thigh as he stood up and gazed down at her. "You haven't done anything to earn it, Princess. Why should I let you come now?"

Fast and graceful as a snake Elena was off the bed, kneeling before him. Staring him in the eye the entire time she took his chiseled hips in her delicate hands and leaned forward, dragging her hot tongue along the underside of his cock from root to tip.

He groaned against his will, and noticed a cheeky look of victory in her sex-drunk eyes as she took the base of his aching erection in her hand and took the tip of it into her mouth, rolling her tongue around the head. She proceeded to give him one of the most intense blow-jobs he'd ever had, and it wasn't long before he was having to control his own orgasm to prevent it from overtaking him.

He picked her up, stood her in front of him, and gathered her in his arms to kiss her with all the pent-up passion he was feeling.

"I love you," he said.

"I love you," she responded breathlessly, and his heart swelled.

"You're mine," he hissed, and her eyes flashed.

"Prove it," she challenged, and he growled at her.

He flung her on the bed again, this time crawling up after her, and, bracing himself on his forearms, plunged his leaking, aching, tortured member into her hot, slick, welcoming pussy. She cried out, burying his face against his shoulder as he entered her, her vaginal walls spasming around him.

"Oh god," she whispered. "Please, please..."

"Please what?" he asked, driving into her until he felt her cervical wall within her hot, wet, folds. His balls tightened at the heavenly feeling and he knew he wasn't going to last long.

"Please..." she was almost incoherent. "Please... I need... I need... it's too much..."

"You want to come, Princess?" he teased, "can't even wait for me?" He started stroking more quickly in and out of her and she made a desperate, strangled noise. She'd been poised on the edge of climax for ages now... he knew she was ready to explode from the pressure, tension, anticipation.

"I need... Please, Oh God, please... Damon..."

Her breath was coming in shallow gasps as he drove into her again... again... he wasn't being tender, he wasn't being gentle. They were both too far gone for that. He fucked her like his life depended on it, as though she were oxygen and he was a drowning man. She clenched and bucked against him, grinding helplessly and futilely towards an orgasm she couldn't achieve. He felt his own cheeks flush with exertion and felt her wrap her arms and legs around him, drawing him closer inside of her.

"God, Elena..." he moaned. He could feel the pressure of his own climax starting to roll through him. "Now... Come now. Come on my cock."

She screamed as she came, back arching, sweaty hair flying around her face. She dug her nails into his shoulders and he smelled his own blood... and as she started to relax back into the pillow he whispered, "Again," as he reached down and ran his fingers over her tortured clitoris. Her eyes opened wide as a second climax washed over her, slower, less violent, but certainly no less intense than the first. This time she moaned his name, and as her muscles clenched around him he thought he'd never heard anything so beautiful. This woman... she loved him. The thought was his undoing. With a groan he threw back his head and spilled himself inside of her, fangs bared, eyes closed, and muscles taut. For a moment the world went black, and as he came back to himself he saw her gazing up into his monstrous, vampiric face with satiated lust and adoration. Reaching up she drew his face down and kissed him, running her tongue along his deadly fangs and tangling her fingers in his hair again. He sighed in pleasure, brushed his lips against her mouth, then her jaw, and whispered, "again" one final time. She sobbed as she came a third time, shuddering against him as he kissed her face, her neck, her shoulders, her over-sensitized body exhausted from the exertion. As she laid back against the pillow he reluctantly withdrew from her, then took her in his arms and pulled her against him.

"Damon," she whispered... "that was..."

He silenced her with a kiss.

"I love you," she whispered, and curled up against him, allowing sleep to claim her.

Damon stayed awake for as long as he could, trying to commit this experience to memory in perfect detail.

One night... he thought, and clenched her tighter. How can I give this up after only one night?